Previously on Miller High Life Presents The Heavyweight Diaries. Alex wants to see you in the studio. Regretful choice is making my dogs sweat? Make my dogs sweating, My bare, sweaty dogs was enough to get my dogs sending a gentle arc of dog sweat across the studio. At the exact moment that Alex Bloomberg walks through the door, from the tip of his nose, Alex Bloomberg wipes away a bead of what he must imagine is chanelle number five.
But it is not Chanelle number five. It is instead a bead of foot sweat from toe number five, the great toe. I can tell from his hecto millionaire scowl that Alex Bloomberg is not feeling overly chuffed. What's up, man, Bloomberg says, suctuating his request for information about what is quote up? Our loud, intimidating slurps from his Hambucha energy drink, panicking, I toss my shoes and socks into a waste paper
basket in the corner of the room. Then I hide my nude, glistening dogs under the table, just chilling out, I assure my voice stuttering, cracking and screeching. Would that I could be in front of my editing equipment, I'd smooth out my words with EQ knobs and splicing levers. But alas I'm operating in real time, my least favorite of times. Things are happening at the speed of life and it's making me nauseous. So I just wanted to check in about how the new season of Heavyweight is
coming along. Bloomberg says, we've sold all the advertising space, and the sales team is getting nervous. I'm told you're not responding to any of their snapchat inquiries. It's coming along riduculously amazing. I say ridunculously amaze balls, I mean cool mode, Bloomberg says, When can I get a little
taste the normally ruthless Bloomberg is acting coy. He's been asking me for months to play him what I've been working on, but because I have nothing, each time I put him off, always with some kind of diversion, stepping into a garbage can, feigning a heart attack, having a real heart attack, feigning a heart attack so hard it becomes a real heart attack. But this time I decide to man up, nay, to person up. Oh, just putting the finishing touches to the pilot episode. I lie, let's
have a listening party in a week, Bloomberg says. We can listen while eating healthy treats, and I add drinking Miller High Life. Extending a pinky, Bloomberg says, pinky swear tentatively, I extend the tip of my pinky. Bloomberg touches its nub with the tip of his pinky nub. Bloomberg's plump pinky nub feels like a wedge of peeled tangerine. Pinky swears are sacred, Bloomberg says, with what sounds like a
touch of menace totally. I say, swallowing hard. As we rise from our seats and exit the studio, I pray that Bloomberg does not cast as gaze downward and spy my feet barefoot in along. Each of us sets forth in the direction of the bathroom. For Bloomberg this means the executive bathroom, the kind of comfort station one might refer to as the facilities, And for me, this means the public bathroom, where everyone from Timothy Nelson to the
FedEx delivery man voids their bowels with exuberance. Once there I make myself comfy on the countertop, soaking my barefoot dogs in a sink full of tap water. I pray to God Timothy Nelson doesn't burst in and start making small talk about decibels and frequencies and why in the world I'm washing my feet there are crumbs between my toes. I might say, that's cool. Timothy Nelson might respond, is it? I might fire back, is it really? My tone will be testy, of course, because like most I don't like
interruptions when soaping down my dogs in public. And as for Bloomberg, I imagine he's in his bathroom, eating a charcoal broiled, garlic rubbed steak and drinking a goblet filled with two bottles of Miller High Life, while seated atop a dynamically warm toilet seat and staring thoughtfully out a floor to ceiling window as the pale sun sets over the Brooklyn skyline, while vigorously paper toweling my dogs and imagining just how beautiful smelling the executive lavatory must be,
how luxuriant and free of charge its beard unctions, and how juicy the bowlful of expertly melonbald honeydew. Cold hard reality sets in Blomberg is expecting to hear some of the new season, and I have absolutely nothing whatsoever to present him with. This has been chapter two of the Heavyweight Diaries. With any luck, the new season of Heavyweight will begin on September twenty sixth. Until then, you can chart our progress each week with a new Diary update.
And remember the best place to listen to Heavyweight is on Spotify. The second best place to listen to Heavyweight is on the sound system in Alex's tricked out Camaro. Heavyweight is me Jonathan Goldstein along with Jorgeos, Stevie Lane, Khalila Holt, and b A. Parker. This episode was mixed by Emma Munger, music by Bobby Lord. Our ad music is Vivaldi's Spring performed by the Wichita State University Chamber Players. We'll have a new chapter of the Heavyweight Diaries next week.