daniel rutimann: 26, going on classy.

click on image to enlarge...the image.

daniel "danny cakes" rutimann, my roommate, friend, confidante, musicology professor, part-time barber, perpetual masseur, short-order cook, erstwhile trainer, current muse, lighting consultant, and brady guardian emeritus, turned 26 yesterday.

is this dude classy? could john bonham keep the beat? do the knicks suck? was the pope a youth nazi?

seriously, danny is very classy, and also fairly ripped. i could not possibly sum up my love for him within a reasonable amount of space here, so i asked some friends to help me out. i get by with a little help from my friends:

hubie brown: ok, so you're danny rutimann. you have a ton of upside, even if you couldn't pick out the good toilet paper if your life depended on that modest task. you got the guns, you're decently long, but more than anything, you have a strong work ethic. when you walk into rooms, door gyms jump onto doorframes of their own volition; children in prospect park gather behind you to run in a pack, like you're 'rocky' or some other stacked wop. you know the difference between work and play, and which one calls for drinking gatorade afterwards. the pt is, you can be relied upon to keep it real, even when you realize you've been sharing a toothbrush with some finook for god knows how long. that kind of perspective will be invaluable in crunch time, like when you need to have the dula super remove the bars on your sweatbox living room windows.

neil young: let's not kid around about danny rutimann. i wrote the song 'cinnamon girl' with him in mind. it was originally called 'peanut butter chotch' but that title was ahead of its time, so the squares at the label wanted me to change it to 'nutmeg caballero', and then we all compromised on 'cinammon girl.' anyway, the kid's a musical revelation. when he picks up an instrument, it instantly looks like one of his natural appendages, and im not just saying that because his grundle is so eerily shaped like a mandolin. though it certainly is.

bruce arena (coach of us world cup team): danny not having devoted his life to soccer is a tragedy commensurate to the hypothetical of daniel radcliffe not having devoted his life to the pursuit of a real life harry potter identity. it's no less upsetting.

chef flaco: today, in your honor, we will actually have the chicken mole. you still will not order it.

jim rome: here's what im burning on. danny rutimann. look, i know, if i lived in fort greene, i'd get a honey turkey sandwich every day too. but do you really need both kinds of peppers? are you the self-proclaimed dr. pepper? is that some sort of custom back in zurich, to keep the girls away? here's some advice, shammy. throw some mustard on there like you actually realize you're half a jew, fill a large opaque cup with cloudy tap water, drop 'fever pitch' in the dvd like i know you want to, and cuddle up with your drum pad. because that's how you roll.

arthur agee: you took my story into your heart, it wasn't just rubbernecking for you. thanks dawg!

jessicas alba and simpson: you melt us like raclette in a raclette oven. meh. i guess we're not that creative. but we're so hot, we're like friggin' pablo picasso and chuck close over here.

happy 26th, danny. you're gonna be an ace big bro to young pepsi, i mean, miguel, and a revelatory shrink for crazies like me. it has been an honor to wear your socks. you classy bastard.

-mrs. rutibrinn