Caught with My Pants DOWN!

Having my home on the market during this horrible time has been anything but pleasant. I'm required by my own pride to keep it in prime shape at all times, as I never know when a buyer will call and be out in front wanting to view it. There are exceptions to that and today's event was the nightmare I'd seldom worried about.

Most all Realtors call well in advance and are as polite as can be. I've liked some better than others naturally, but today's invasion was definitely a trend changer. I won't say it's my worst nightmare, but the very first day I had my house on the market, I came walking out of my shower and thought, "Gee, I hope I don't run into a stranger in my bedroom, since there is a key to my house sitting out there, available to any Realtor with a lock box key and the desire." I laughed it off and relaxed and suddenly 3 months had passed and no one invaded my privacy. I was pretty comfortable knowing that Realtors had a code of ethics. (not)

After reading into the wee hours of the morning, I never awoke until about 9 AM and had my usual casual morning, playing on the computer, making comments on Facebook and drinking coffee. At about 9:45 I went up to take a shower and get ready for the day. Immediately after exiting the shower, still wet, the cell phone rang and it was MJ saying her usual good morning. I was intently discussing with her and trying to explain the content of our recent texting session, when out of the blue, still in my birthday suit, (but dry) I hear a man's voice, very assertive, screaming from somewhere inside my humble home, "Realtor, coming in to show your home". "Absolutely NOT", I replied and he exited saying he was leaving immediately.

MJ was still talking about the fishing trip we're planning, when I stopped her and explained what had just happened. We hung up and I finished getting dressed and called my Realtor to advise her of the situation.

Now, I thought certainly this asshole was in some sort of violation by barging in without the advantage of a phone call or even ringing the bell, but no. It seems that the industry has not yet refined it's people to stringent regulations, particularly when it involves the privacy of it's clients. My realtor said she could call the agent, but chances are no one's going to give it a thought. There won't even be a slap on the wrist involved.

I exercised my only recourse and demanded that the lock-box be removed from the door. My lazy Realtor stopped my when I was in the backyard doing a little tree maintenance. She came walking in the backyard through the gate yelling, "Realtor, coming in to show your home"! Not funny, I told her! I took my key back....

Not an Octoberfest FOOL!

My new main squeeze is a planner and I like that. So when she asked me if I wanted to go to the Geekfest, I was delighted. Let's face it, I've been a geek most of my life and was thrilled to be around people just like me. I later learned that it was a Greekfest and everything kind of changed.

Why is it that certain nationalities deserve a festival? The Germans boast of their Oktoberfest, but were you ever invited to go to a Jewishfest? Of course not. Hooray, tomorrow's the Russianfest, what will I wear? Of course not, again. So MJ dragged me to the Greekfest and it went something like this.

I arrived at MJ's all dressed and excited about seeing a bunch of Greeks in their natural habitat. The last names alone is enough to send you over the deep end, Papageargio, Alexapoulous, Constantinidis.... (sounds like a disease)

We headed to the Scottsdale Civic Center in her daughter-in-law's Prious with 3 generations of women. Baby Angela is almost 2 and as cute as a little girl can be. She won my heart. No sooner did we arrive and we were eating Giro sandwiches. Immediately there was an announcement that the dancing was to begin and if I didn't find a bathroom soon, I was going to be dancing with the renowned dancers, looking for a john!

Check this out: We were in upscale Scottsdale and I located the restrooms inside a rather large facility. I approached the urinal and took care of business. I then went to the sink to rinse off my hands when the water began without prompting. This is not unusual, but right in the middle of rinsing my hands, a machine to the right started squirting soap onto my hands. Now I was going to be good with just the rinse, but suddenly the powers that be got word of it and notified my mother and evidently SHE ordered the soap mix. I left quickly looking back over my shoulder several times, certain that the place was haunted. I'm not certain but I thought I heard my mother yelling, "next time use soap"! Back to the festivities.

The highlight of the afternoon was watching little Angela playing on the grass ever so close to her mother, when suddenly she approached a totally strange woman with blond hair, about 50 and motioned for the woman to pick her up and let her sit on her lap. The woman accommodated Angela as her mother, myself and her grandmother looked on. Angela sat in this woman's lap for about 10 minutes when suddenly she was done and wanted to come down. We roared with laughter.

Let's get back to the Greeks. They announced next that the 3rd and 4th graders would be doing a national dance. Suddenly a group of boys and girls entered the stage and began dancing. Now get this. The little boys were dressed in leotards and short dresses with cute little caps. Can you imagine the amount of coaxing that it would take to get a 7 or 8 year old boy to go on stage dressed in a dress and and tights? That's the salesman I want working for me!

At some point an older woman went up on stage and started throwing 1 dollar bills at one little boy in drag, who must have been her grandson or nephew. The little guy was terrorized and dodged the overzealous woman. That's when the Jew in my kicked in and all I could think of was how I'd get the cash picked up without anyone noticing when suddenly MJ elbowed me.

We had a good time and got home kind of early and MJ sent me home. She said she was gonna wash her hair or organize her pantry or something important. That's okay, my sock drawer is a mess.

If I Don't Dance a Little Everyday, I just Don't Feel Good!

Last night, Halloween night, NMS who is really MJ and I went out on our first official first date, again. Feeling less than 100% after absorbing a McDonald's Big Mac for lunch, I searched through the contents of 3 heavily stuffed bathrooms medicine cabinets in search of Pepto, but all I found was Witch Hazel, only fitting since it was Halloween. God only knows who left that tidy morsel behind.

MJ texted me asking if we were still on for tonight and I figured what the hell, I can feel crappy anywhere, I don't have to stay home. So I threw on some clothes, splashed on about a half a gallon of Safari (always works) and looked for my dancing shoes. Last month at the wedding, I wore my good shoes that not only left me wounded, but have rubber soles and really hampered my "moves" to where you could never tell I'd been to Arthur Murry. I hopped into the Expedition, my very best party car and headed to MJ's, being ever so careful not to run over any munchkins out trick or treating.

As I pulled into Arcadia, an old and respected neighborhood, it was pretty scarce of romping children, as the residents there require trick or treating by appointment only. MJ warned me that her house would be dark as she is the Grinch who stole Christmas and is currently working on Halloween. Frankly, my house was left dark too and not only that, but I hid my extra cars in my side yard so as to not tempt vandals...

MJ looked delightful in a new dress she'd never worn and I must say, she knows how to dress. And there I was wearing although new jeans, but they were frayed at the bottoms. We waited around for a little while until MJ's 2 year old granddaughter arrived back after searching the streets for candy. Her Mom took about 2000 pictures of her dressed in her princess outfit and she was adorable.

We headed out to none other than the infamous Eli's on Halloween night. MJ warned me that most people would be in costume, but I was fearless and waaaay too old to be dressing up for Halloween.

The parking lot was mobbed with expectant partiers and even the Valet parking looked full, with the exception of one single handicapped parking place right by the front door. I swung the Expedition into it was great ease as MJ slid down in her seat, mumbling "who goes dancing and parks in handicapped parking?" I walked around and opened the door for her and she kind of slid out of the car trying to become invisible. We walked in the front door and were greeted by friendly faces and most of the patrons were dressed up in one sort of costume or another. We had fun pointing out a man that was sporting a Mullet, until I realized he was not dressing for Halloween, but rather just stuck in the 80's. We had great fun trying to point out the ones in costume as opposed to just plain shabbily dressed people. After first walking in, we had to move to a different location because the creep standing next to MJ kept looking at MJ's cleavage and drooling. We found 2 seats along the wall, but some fat guy kept touching MJ's hair and saying what she described as inappropriate things. I ordered us some drinks and was surprised to be welcomed by the owners Greg, who recognized me and called his brother Tony over to say hello. It was old home week for this former drunk.

At some point evidently the band played the right song and MJ grabbed my hand and said, "come on", pulling me onto the dance floor, where we were obliged to dance while standing in one 12" assigned spot. If someone had a heart attack and died, they'd have to wait for the band to go on break, to fall! It was that crowded.

When we got back to our seats that MJ had asked the fat guy that kept touching her hair to watch our seats, (but I think he was just watching hers), a new player had entered the arena. I suspect he was supposed to be Danial Boone, as he wore a coon skin outfit that was a jock strap made of raccoon skin and a raccoon tail over his bare ass and a fringe suede jacket and chaps that went up to his thighs. I saw more of that man's ass than I'd ever even seen of mine, while women stopped to gawk and take pictures. It wasn't until I saw the raccoon tail lift up, that I grabbed MJ and said, "Let's get out of here, I've had enough"!

We headed to the Camelback in where we had a civilized drink, sitting chatting and listening to some beautiful piano music, holding hands. Quite romantic. We left and I gave the valet guy $5 to get our car and in spite of the large tip he still brought us the same old car. I was hoping for at least a Mercedes... but no.

We returned to MJ's where we rolled around the sofa until 1:30 and I still got sent home like a schoolboy. I guess I'm gonna have to see MJ again, I planted my cell phone under the cushion!

Dinner Out...

Tuesday evening I had the pleasure of having dinner with an old friend. I don't really mean she's old, but we've been acquaintances for some time. For the sake of anonymity, let's call her NMS, a series of initials that have become familiar to me. Because NMS is currently a member of the "Fat Chick Club" our choice of restaurants was rather limited. NMS is a BIG fan of pizza, but due to her current profile, it was completely out of the question. She suggested a place at the Biltmore that specialized in all natural cuisine, but food sans the chemicals might upset my artificially seasoned stomach, so I opted out of that choice. Next she suggest the Pita Jungle, but something about eating at that place didn't seem right, plus eating in a jungle just confused me. We settled on a trendy place at 32nd and Camelback that serves a variety of dishes that allowed me to indulge in my normal diet of hamburgers and sweet potato fries, while it still offered a variety of salads for porky NMS. Let me clarify something before going on. NMS is a delightful 5' 7" and 128 LB, but feels that if she gets down to her normal fighting weight of 115, she'll feel better. That settled, let's move on. NMS told me the restaurant's name was "Blue", but it turned out that it was merely the color of their sign. I think the name was Finest's or something close.

It was the perfect night for outside dining, the heat was finally leaving our valley and the temp was about 75 degrees. NMS leading the way, asked for outside seating and since AZ is a non-smoking state, that was fine with me. We were seated on their patio that was adjacent to the parking lot, allowing us plenty of interesting topics to choose from including the waiting section that just so happened to be right smack dab against the left side of our table. I wasn't sure how to portray this particular part, but our table was really part of the parking lot, but cordoned off to be separate, with a railing around the seating portion. For a waiting section and apparently we got the very last table, they placed several chairs, really in the parking lot but placed up against our table with only the railing dividing us. We chatted as NMS read me the menu because as usual, I forgot my glasses. We chatted along sharing a conversation when out of nowhere came a young couple in their early 20's sitting down in the waiting section.

I couldn't help but notice that the young lady could not have been cuter and her companion looked to be gay. Most cute girls have a gay friend and we were almost kissing distance from this couple when our conversation went to where we went wrong in our relationship that was about 2 years earlier. NMS said we may have felt differently about one another had we slept together, but since we didn't there was no bond to hold us together, although there was that was a connection. I replied something to the effect of, that perhaps we should just go back to her house and sleep together right now!

I could help but notice that the young girl, who was alone now as her gay friend went wandering off somewhere, moved her head about 2 inches closer when NMS said we had not slept together and my remark was definitely playing to her, as an audience. When I dropped the bomb of, "Let's go back to your house right now and sleep together" our youthful audience turned around with her glass held high and toasted us with her Martini. All three of us fell into a fit of laughter, when suddenly our food arrived changing the mood to famished...

Another odd thing about the restaurant was their restroom. I found it by passing a double sink in a counter and to the left was a door reading MEN'S. Upon entering I saw a urinal and a toilet. When I finished, I turned around and looked for the sink. There was not one. I went out of the men's room and used the sink in the hall, next to a young lady already washing her hands. For some reason I felt very European and mentioned it to the young lady washing her hands next to me. She told me she'd never been abroad and left.. Humph....

The Martha Stewart Show...

A very odd thing just happened to me that I felt I should share with humanity. After showering and skipping happily down the stairs, (yeah, I still skip) I turned on the TV and proceeded to the coffee maker for a hot cup of Joe. I was hungry after skipping dinner last night and opting for a few cookies to staid off hunger. I decided on a full American breakfast that not only could close off all of my veins, but bring on cardiac arrest in a heartbeat. I had the special of the day, the Blue Plate Special, sausage friend in butter, 2 eggs fried in butter, hash brown potatoes (ready) friend in butter and toast, plied in butter, but don't worry, I take Lipitor to lower my Cholesterol.

As I prepared my feast, the TV was turned to ABC and the Martha Stewart Show was on in the background. I didn't really pay too much attention to what was going on, on the TV, as I was busy preparing my breakfast and being careful to dodge splattering butter. When the meal was ready, I carefully carried it to my table to enjoy and that I did. Now listening to the Martha Stewart Show for the first time, I was too interested in eating to actually leave my meal to look for the remote. I ate and listened. The topic was preparing Halloween muffins for parties celebrating the holiday. I was truly bored but listened on. That's when it happened!

Out of nowhere, my male genitalia started shriveling and began forming somewhat of a pocket. I was horrified! Then I started feeling misty-eyed and just wanted to be held. Then the cramps and the desire to nest and be like Sara Palin!!!

Falling to the floor, I dragged myself to the remote and hit the "off" position. As I laid there with my breakfast congealing into a firm stick of burned butter, my body parts resumed their normal characteristics and I ran to the sink to splash some cold water in my face, trying to catch my breath.

I'm better now and feeling pretty much like normal, but later I'm going shopping for shoes and maybe a matching purse...

The Chicago Trip...

Linda and I made it to Chicago to pick up the Toyota, but only one of us made it back. I'll get to that later.

The flight to Chicago was my first time flying since the events of 9/11 and I wasn't quite sure of what to expect, but it was pretty uneventful as we just cruised through all of the hoopla. I had brought cash to pay for the Toyota as we had agreed upon and was reluctant to let anyone know I had that much cash on me, but no one asked and no one cared. I was a little annoyed that the people in front of us had both a new born and a baby about a year old, but both slept through the entire flight after a screaming take off. The highlight of the flight was when Linda tapped me on the knee and asked if this flight flies "as the crow flies" or does it make turns? All I could do was look at her in disbelief at her question asking, "do you think we go to Denver and turn right?" Just then the flight attendant was passing by, a tall African-American gay man. I offered up Linda's question to him and he stopped and answered, all the while massaging my heterosexual shoulder, as he spoke. Just so you know, "we" don't like other men to massage our shoulders one little bit upon meeting them. This may have been my first homosexual experience! (and my last). Franco explained that it was the best question of the flight and the "asker" was to receive a free beer, as Linda boasted of her accomplishment.

After 3 hours and 25 minutes of feeling kind of light in my loafers, we landed. Feet safely on the ground, I learned why my Cricket phone is so cheap. It doesn't offer any service out of the Phoenix metropolitan area. I called my nephew Scott using Linda's phone, who was waiting outside the sliding doors. All we had to do was cross 6 lanes of moving traffic to get to him, when suddenly I remembered that people driving in Chicago would rather run you down than let you cross. I longed for a little "pedestrian has the right of way" action...

Scott, a rather large man, tossed our heavy suitcases into the backseat of Uncle Hanks car like they were feathers and we took off for a place called Northbrook and my dream car. Scott showed us the performance of the 2008 Chrysler 300 and it's Hemi engine while all we could do was hang on. It kind of reminded me of myself about 40 years ago.

It was cold and rainy in Chicago in preparation for our visit. Scott dropped us off at my friend's brother's house and gave us detailed instructions on how to find Aunt Pat's house, where we were to spend the night.

I almost forgot to include that my tooth had taken this very moment to abscess and was just killing me. As luck would have it, my car seller was a dentist and took me to his office for a quick evaluation. He took an x-ray and discovered it was fractured and needed to have a root canal or an extraction, neither of which he could perform on the spot. He prescribed an antibiotic and didn't even tease me as I looked for loose nuts to fill my other cheek. I looked like a squirrel preparing for a long winter. Whoa is me!

We arrived at Patty's house about 10 PM and sat up late and chatted. I'm glad I got a chance to see them. Patty is the lady that flew out to take care of me when I had my heart episode and I'll always be indebted to her for that, however I learned almost the hard way that a democrat should probably remain quiet when his host is a republican. We retired to bed where I was in so much tooth pain that I watched the sun come up while Linda gently snored. We were in a double bed, placed up against the wall and I took the inside position because Linda was complaining about a sore hip. I got stuck up against the wall, as Linda fell asleep right smack dab in the middle of that bed. I was literally stuck between a rock and a hard spot!

The following day we went out for breakfast after sitting in traffic for about 40 minutes to go 1/4 mile, while I inserted toothpick in my eyes to keep them open. We never did find out why the traffic was backed up. Then we went to a Walgreens to get my prescription filled, only to find out my health insurance is only good in AZ. Why should it be good in Chicago? You really don't need it when you're on vacation, right? So I had to pay full price for my Z-pack, whatever that was? I think that's when Linda reminded me that I promised that we could see downtown Chicago! But that's 50 miles in the opposite direction, right? She was pretty adamant about it so we headed to downtown Chicago on a Friday afternoon, when the direction we were supposed to be going was the opposite direction. Then she asked me if I could stop down there and she could jump out and buy some T-shirts for her kids that say "CHICAGO"?

She doesn't understand big cities and how you cannot park in downtown Chicago to run in and buy ANY-FUCKING-THING. You just keep on moving or get run over by buses or taxis or trucks. One thing you NEVER do is stop and run in. Naturally she got mad at me because I'm not understanding and all I wanted to to was get the hell out of Dodge (Chicago)..

I think that's when she rolled down the window and reached outside with her camera to photograph what used to be the Sears Tower and I pushed her out the window! She landed pretty square on her butt and I think she'll be okay. She's a resourceful girl and should be able to find her way home... The car got over 30 miles to the gallon on the peaceful ride home. It was nice...

A Death in the Family!

With all of the confusion of the Chicago trip, trying to arrange with a third party to get the title notarized, when he claims Illinois doesn't require it, while Arizona does, I completely forgot to celebrate today's anniversary. Today, 17 years ago, I closed on this house. I think it was a young man that handed over the down payment to some disinterested lady that was my closing coach. Sign here, here, and here, press hard, 5 copies. Do you have the check, "what, oh here!" I walked out of there a marked man. I was now to be the "HOMEOWNER"! The gentleman of the house as the telephone solicitors referred to it. When kids rang the bell asking for money for a Girl Scout Cookies, I was the man they were looking for. On Halloween, I was the guy with the candy. I was the "Gentleman of the House". I was a young man about 46. That's young when you're 63, trust me.

One of the things that happened almost immediately after moving in here, was my avocado washing machine took a crap and died. My son Brad and I went to Barry's Home Appliances and picked out a brand new one. I truly believe that the old one committed suicide because of it's color and it felt kind of out of place in the new digs. For that I will always be grateful. The new sparkling white one took it's place proudly.

Tonight is a banner night. That new white washing machine served us well for all of these years. She went through one wife and several girlfriends and never once complained and frankly, all of those women were not necessarily nice to "Whitey"...

Several months ago, Whitey started complaining. Her spin cycle got kind of loud. She screamed for attention, but I just yelled, "suck it up" we've all got problems. I ignored her warnings. Recently she got so loud you couldn't hear the TV playing and I still chose to ignore her. I just yelled "It's your bearings, you'll be fine"... She continued. Two weeks ago was the last time I bothered her with a load of laundry. She was slow starting and just screamed during her spin cycle. I turned the TV louder to ignore her. She finished and went right to sleep.

Tonight, needing clean underwear and jeans, I loaded her up, turned up her water level to "high"and pressed the ON button. Her agitator moved s-l-o-w-l-y and I asked her, what's wrong? She said nothing and her agitator stopped dead and the only thing I noticed was a constant hum coming from her motor and a steady stream of water coming out from under her overweight body...... Whitey was DEAD! Where do you bury a 150 LB washing machine?

I quickly ran for a bucket and some towels. I grabbed a big plastic cup and started baling out water as fast as I could. I had to stop that water before it hit the carpeting. Come on, we've all been there. I ran out to the garage and got my syphon, but only a kid stealing gasoline could ever make one work! Jeez...

As I sit here, I have about a hundred pounds of slushy dirty clothes in my drying just rolling along. I guess tomorrow I'll go washer shopping.