Millis

Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of people talk on their cell phones at the gym. I don’t do it. It's not because I think it violates any unwritten code of gym etiquette, I just don’t want to break my phone or put people hold on during sets.

A week ago today, while driving home from the gym, I noticed a missed call from an unidentified number with a 612 area code. After going through the usual emotions that come with seeing a new number, I checked my voicemail. It was Millis (friend from law school and shit enthusiast.) He said that he’s got a new cell phone number and that he really enjoyed the shit-rating post. He said to give him a call back and we’d catch up. I haven’t spoken to Millis since the summer, so it was nice to hear his voice. (He’s in my fantasy football league, we all post back and forth all the time, so its not like I haven’t heard anything from him, I just haven’t actually spoken to him.)

The news of Millis’ new phone number upset me because it might mean that he'd also have to change his voicemail greeting. No one’s voicemail greeting makes me laugh harder than Millis’, here's what he says:

“Hi this Matt Millis, obviously I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

I can’t even type it without laughing.

I was about to call Millis back when I realized that I was only a minute away from my house, so this meant as soon as I walked in the door, my parents were going to be there, and they’d interrupt the call in some way. I didn’t want to call Millis and then be the one to say, “I gotta go” after one minute of conversation (or be the self-righteous prick that says, “I’ll let you go.”) So I told myself I’d call him later that night.

I ended up hanging out with some friends that night, and forgot to call Millis.

Tuesday night I watched Employee of the Month in my neighbor’s basement/movie theater, and ate the best popcorn in northern Illinois. (prepared by me, in their commercial size popcorn maker, I’ll put it up against any batch of popcorn made in Will, DuPage, Lake, or Cook county.) (and I don’t recommend Employee of the Month to anyone, under any circumstance. We only watched it for the popcorn.) I once asked Moon (my neighbor) if he’d rather eat the popcorn or have sex. He replied, “Have sex with who?”* Needless to say, I forgot to call Millis.

It had been two days since Millis had called and I didn't think I'd remember to call him back. So I looked at my phone and realized the good news and bad news. The good news was that my cell phone has the capability to store reminders. The bad news was that I wasn’t going to remember to check the reminders. I wrote one anyway.

Wednesday night, I remembered to call Millis. The problem was that I was hanging out with my brother and some high school friends. I haven’t talked to Millis since the summer, so I wasn't going to call him while sitting in a loud room full of drunken guys.

Thursday, I forgot to call.

Friday, I remembered to call Millis, but it was ~3 in the afternoon, and I didn’t want to call him during the day. Millis is an attorney, so theoretically, every second he spends on the phone with me during office hours, is a second that he’s going to have to stay late. (Take that with a grain of salt, because Millis is the same guy who used to bill his time on the shitter every the morning, and only stopped because the work was taking away from his shitting experience.) (Not because squeezing chunks of shit from his asshole as he worked took anything away from the quality of his work product.) I respect him for that.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to call him Friday night. Like I said earlier, Millis is a working attorney, which means that come Friday night, he’s probably a working alcoholic. He’s been married and working in Minneapolis for close to six months now, so I’m sure he’s a regular at a bar near his office. A place with a bartender who knows his name, his poison, and knows not to look him in the eye until he’s at least three quarters of the way through his second screwdriver. And also knows not to say a word to him until Millis has decided whether his third drink will be another screwdriver, a Grey Goose on the rocks, or a Grey Goose neat.

Yesterday, I remembered to call Millis while running a couple of errands, but then realized that I’d been building up this phone call with Millis for so long that I couldn’t think of anything to say that would live up to this hype.

I’d been thinking about making this damn phone call for five days, but what was I supposed to say? Talking to someone on the phone after such a long time is tricky. It brings to light a difference that I’ve noticed between men and women. Cindy is always amazed when she hears me talk to my friends on the phone because there are no pleasantries. We don’t ask eachother how we’re doing, we don’t ask eachother about our girlfriends, or our families, or our jobs, and there’s no long drawn out goodbye. Men get right to the point. And when we’re done, we’re done. I could be in mid-sentence, but if the man on the other end says, “Alright man”, I know, that for some reason or another, he has to get off the phone. When Cindy is talking to one of her girlfriends on the phone, I can tell five minutes beforehand when they’re starting to warm up for their goodbye.

Since I hadn't spoken to Millis in so long, it’d feel strange just talking about whatever bullshit was on our minds at the time. I realized that if I had called him at that moment yesterday afternoon, half of our first conversation in six months would have been about how I was walking through the mall eating a Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwich, and some people were staring at me like I was some kind of wild animal for not eating it in the food court. For example: I was browsing in a video game store when a mother standing in front of me turned around. She looked at me, looked at the spicy chicken, and then we made eye contact. She gave me a dirty look, put her arm around her little son (who hadn’t seen me yet), and pulled him away. I didn't understand why. I really wanted to say to her, “It’s a spicy chicken sandwich! What can I possibly do with this thing that’s going to harm your son?” “Answer me.” Its not like I was getting crumbs on the floor, and I kept it wrapped in foil so my hands would stay clean. (and I kept napkins in my hand) What was she worried about?

Ok, now I’m not sure exactly where I was going with this post. All I know is that I wanted to call Millis, but in addition to not being able to find a good time to call him, I wasn’t sure how to squeeze six months of conversation into a few short minutes. And I didn't think I'd be at the top of Millis' list of people he'd like to have hour long phone conversations with. I was at Millis’ wedding, but I certainly wasn’t in Millis’ wedding. (I was sitting in the back reading the program, and when I was finished with the program, I picked up a Bible.)

Ok, so what I’ve decided to do is honor Millis. The following is a visual ode to Matt Millis.

Who said you can’t mix business and pleasure?

This is Millis playing guitar. I was going to put, “Millis doing what Millis does best.” But his plumber might argue otherwise.

Two stories come to mind when I look at this picture. 1) That man on the left (Connor’s uncle) later went on to marry the woman in the middle. You might be thinking, “he's gotta be 20 years older than her, he’s probably got a lot of money.” He doesn’t. Learn how to play guitar...

2) Our law school does a “gong show” fundraiser every year. (Students perform on a stage, and if a judge doesn’t like it, they hit a gong and the performer has to stop and leave the stage.) Millis entered the competition and was doing his rendition of Dave Matthews’ version of “Redemption Song”. (I know.) Millis is a great guitar player, and a great singer, but within one minute, he was gonged by our criminal law professor (Brown). (Millis is a great performer, but that particular version of Redemption Song is intense, and it's not for everyone.) As Millis was leaving the stage, Professor Brown extended his hand for a shake, but a pissed-off Millis just looked him in the eye and said,, “Fuck off!”

We were playing a drinking game on St. Patrick’s day, Millis made a rule that had me drinking a little. So I retaliated by making a rule that had him drinking a lot. (It was something to the effect of, “anytime anyone drinks, Millis has to drink, until the next _ is pulled from the deck") All we had to say was “Millis Rule”, and he knew what to do. This picture was taken right after Millis drew the card that would allow him to make his own rule and end the tyranny of the “Millis Rule.” (great picture)

The funniest sunburn I’ve ever seen. Millis put sunscreen on his back, and then laid on his back. When he turned to lay on his stomach, some of the sunscreen had come off. Can you guess where?

This was by far the coldest day of our trip to Destin, and for some reason I had the idea to go into the water. Millis and Walrus were the only two brave enough to join me. This is us making the long walk into the gulf.

This is us sprinting back to the warmth of the pool, which felt like a hot tub after going into the gulf.

It honestly felt like getting into a hot tub.

Millis’ facebook picture.

Millis running the Indianapolis mini-marathon. When I asked him about the cut off sleeves, he said, “I had to, there’s a statute that prohibits carrying concealed weapons in the state of Indiana.”**

I don’t know what this is, but that’s Millis on the far left. The date on the picture is March 2005. I don’t know…

Open bar at Mills’ wedding, this picture was taken very early. As you can probably tell, the two guys flanking me had rough nights. The big fella to my left (Dirk) drove home that night. The next day he said to me, “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” (He’s older than he looks, and done a lot more dumb things than you'd think) The shirt I’m wearing in that picture is still in the possession of my good friend to my right.

I told you that Dirk's done some dumb things. (this was taken at Bloomington hospital at 6am, and he was so hammered that he was almost arrested in the hospital waiting room) Right before I snapped the picture he groaned, "Hang on, let me get in a pose so I can look more like Christ."***

Close-up. He didn’t get into a fight. He was trying to break into his own house through the back window. Why? Because he doesn’t carry keys because he leaves his keys in his car, which is one of the last remaining cars on earth with a keypad that you can use to unlock the doors. But he'd left his car at the bar. (The more you read his blog, the more you’ll appreciate it. Its really funny, but you have to be patient)

This is me, preparing for Millis’ marriage proposal. You can see Millis on the left. He sent his fiancé on a scavenger hunt around campus. Each clue was given by two friends with a rose. The last clue led her back to his apartment, where she’d find Millis (sporting a shirt so red that my rose was jealous), awaiting her arrival with a home cooked gourmet meal and a diamond ring. (if you look closely, you can see Spencer between Millis and I. And if you look at the bottom right, you can see Millis’ table setting. He’s no slouch.) It was really well orchestrated. I seriously wonder if I'll live to see a better proposal.

The happiest night of his life.

The End

* I made that up, but that’s what he would say
** I made that up
*** I made that up

**** If you made it through this entire post, and are reading this (I’m not talking about Millis, I’m talking about you) The next time we have a drink together, its on me. It takes a good and trusting friend to get this far. Thank you. I really mean that. I'm going to make this blog better just for you.