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I remember staring at Brian long and hard the first time I saw him, and thinking boy, what a dumb looking guy. Then I felt guilty, for thinking such a thought, but then got caught back up in the thought of how stupid he looked, and well, I was back at thinking about his idiot looks.

We were both waiting, along with about ten other people, to meet with a site supervisor at a two-week temp assignment. I was wearing slacks and button down shirt, with a sports jacket to boot. Brian was wearing dirty jeans and a t-shirt, his sweatshirt half wrapped around his waist. His hair was disheveled, and he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. He looked like hell.

But the thing that made him look stupid were the way his eyes drooped, combined with the fact that he let his mouth hang open as if he were in the midst of a severe drunken stupor that's the result of a beer binge at double-header in the hot August sun.

We were meeting with the site supervisor because we were just 12 employees out of about 2,000 in this particular building, and though we would have a job supervisor, it was necessary for the site supervisor to explain the rules of the facility and let us know what we were expected to do.

Right away, the site supervisor, who was named Anne or Caroline or something that blond white women in middle management get named, picked up on the fact that Brian was not all there.

In the middle of explaining that we needed to arrive at work by 8:30 a.m. and not leave before 5:30, she stopped and asked, looking right at Brian, "Do you need a cup of coffee or something?"

And true to form, Brian didn't even respond. He was staring right at Judy, or Anne, whatever, and he didn't say a fucking word. But when the silence lingered and the stares from around the table caved in on him, he realized that whatever had been said was directed at him.

"Uhhh... What did you say?"

Then Kate, or Caroline, whatever, said, "I'm serious. You have to be more focused and on top of it. Do you need a cup of coffee?"

Brian just laughed, and said no, but he didn't change his demeanor a bit. He didn't straighten up or anything. Just sat there and remained entirely unfazed by the scorn of Annette, or Judy, whatever. It was at this point that I realized that Brian wasn't what he appeared to be. He just might be the smartest guy in this building, I thought to myself.

And it turned out that Brian was a lot smarter than his appearance let on. Not only that, but he was damn funny. I certainly wasn't enjoying the temp assignment, but I found myself looking forward to working with Brian, mainly because the stories he told always made me laugh out loud. And Brian told lots of stories.

One story that I'll never forget involved the time he took more than one hit of acid, and flipped out, screaming about how he couldn't get the metal from his parents' car off of his socks, until he passed out. When he woke up in the morning, he was convinced that he had crashed his parents' car. He spent the entire day calling tow truck services, and even the police, inquiring about a wrecked car. The problem is, he couldn't remember where, or even if, he had actually crashed the car. It turn out that he had told his friends they could take it to a Phish concert, two states away. He found this out when his friends called to say that the car was in a service station 400 miles away, and they weren't sure what was wrong with the engine.

But perhaps the funniest thing about Brian was his effort to land a full-time, decent paying job. He had just moved out to California from Virginia, where he had just graduated from college. He was always using the phone on his desk to call about jobs, saying things like, "I'll work hard," "I'm ready to work," and "I'm your man."

Finally, he had landed a job interview. We all knew this because he came to work in slacks and a jacket, a marked change from the usual jeans and dirty t-shirt. But even this was hysterical, because all of us started to call him "The Brianator." Brian struck a pose and grinned. "I'm stylin' now," he bragged. The problem was that his slacks were a muted green, and worst of all, gave off a sheen only possible with "wrinkle free pants" - a hybrid of fashion and scientific innovation that failed miserably, and for good reason. In addition, the jacket's colored texture was highlighted by the way it clashed with the pants. When he asked what we thought of the look, I told him he had nailed a very specific look - "Radio Shack Chic."

When the temp assignment ended, Brian was still looking for a job, still making his calls, still refusing to splurge on a better looking suit. And of course, still making us laugh. Did I mention his dress shoes? He had forgotten his hiking boots on a weekend camping trip, and was forced to wear his brown dress shoes. They looked like they had been dunked in mud and laid out in the desert sun to crack, but he said they fit just right. Bending over to give the shoes a half-ass polish using paper towels from the bathroom, he said, "Why would I go out and buy new shoes when I'm wearing a perfectly good pair now."

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