The Side RoomOff topic chat about pretty much anything other than music. Try to be respectful. Strong debate is welcomed, insults and trolling are not. This area is for over 18's only and may occasionally contain NSFW material, although it's not encouraged.
I meet RFJ every day, it's not that big of a deal really.
RDJ on the other hand, now that would certainly be something.
He would lean across the bar, motion for the bartender to come over.
The bartender would ask him what he wants, and he would say "double scotch, need the dutch courage."
And the bartender would stop for a second, look at him, and ask "what do you need dutch courage for? You seen a girl you like?"
And he would say "no."
He would try to point at you, RRREEEAAAALLL subtle, and say "you know who that guy is?"
The bartender would look in your direction, squint a little, shake his head, and go "nah, man. Ain't seen that dude before."
And Aphex would take the bartender by his work shirt, pull him in close, and whisper "that's R - F - J."
The bartender wipes down a wet glass and says "you hot for this dude? 'Cuz that ain't my thing, but if that's your bag, I say you go for it. What's the worst that could happen?"
And Aphex would smile, that big grin he grins when that Sandwich place offers the 2 for 1, and he'd say "seriously, that dude, his tunes..."
And he'd brush his hair back, and whisper to himself all these little jokes he's had worked out for years, and he'd say:
"RFJ RDJ RFJ RDJ RFJ RDJ"
Then he'd lean across the bar, and whisper in the bartender's ear, "I'm going to go for the big one."
And he'd approach you.
You put down your glass of sparkling water.
You readjust your tie, and say "oh, hi."
And in his deep, hoarse voice, trying so hard not to stammer that he sweats visibly, he says:
"Rick, we should collaborate."
You pick up the sparkling water, take a sip, and say "yeah, that sounds fun, I might need to free up some time but...."
And as the sweat trickles down his Adam's apple he leans in, even his lips sweating, into your fucking earlobe, and with a whisper that sounds like a cricket dying in the night, nameless, never to be remembered, he says: