Monday, November 30, 2009

Butt Stank, the story...

California, the land of enchantment. Wait, that's New Mexico... California, the land of high prices is more like it. I guess they package the sun and ocean and lack of free land to their prices, because they sure know how to make things expensive there. A simple lunch was $50 and their gas must be special and frankly I'm glad to be home to Arizona where it doesn't rain and the sun is out all of the time..

Leaving our great state on Wednesday evening broke every rule I have about driving. Mostly, NEVER drive when everyone and their Aunt Ethyl are on the road, such as the evening before a national holiday...

Wednesday night found MJ and I knee deep in the worst traffic I'd seen in our humble town since we developed our freeway system. Two hours into our drive we were still on the I-10 trying to leave the Phoenix area when suddenly traffic broke from 10 MPH to an amazing 65 then 75, then infinity.... It seems that MJ is a fan of Love's, a roadside convenience market that sold Subway sandwiches and gasoline.. We/I decided on splitting a large diet coke and getting back on our way. I turned to pay and got into a line that took 15 minutes to achieve finality, just to pay for our Coke. Hopping back into her car, we headed West again. At least it wasn't a Cracker Barrel.

We slid into San Diego about 1 AM and MJ showed me to her condo. It was spacious, pleasant and beautifully decorated. I was mostly interested in the bed! It was cold there and her bed is a blow up type from Costco and it didn't have a mattress pad, which has never been an issue for me, until I was asked to sleep on an ice cube. The air inside that mattress was about 55 degrees and would not warm up. There was NO getting warm the first night, even with MJ's body heat that I was desperately stealing!!! Now don't get the wrong idea, it was just for survival. The second night, we took the time to use the condo heater and put a mattress pad on her blow up mattress and that pretty much eliminated the frost bite issues. At one point the first night, I awakened thinking I was aroused, but it turned out the poor thing was just frozen.

Thanksgiving Day found us trying to get the TV to work without cable, as it was not hooked up. That pretty much eliminated any football for the day, so we improvised and I watched MJ's talents in the kitchen, which were pretty impressive. MJ can heat up food like nobodies business. We had turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce, not forgetting pumpkin pie. We were totally stuffed after beginning out treat with a blessing right out of the bible... Turns out MJ's a good "Thanks Giver".

After our feast, we went for a long walk on the beach, wearing thongs (shoes) and walking hand in hand. It was beautiful weather and we watched the surfers and the fisherman and generally walked my poor feet off. We headed home for our nap and slept like a couple of kindergartners after a long recess.

Keep in mind, we were to be there for 4 days without the advantage of TV or even music, so creativity was paramount.. I suggested a board game, but there was not one. We were permitted to steal Internet occasionally when the Gods allowed for it, but otherwise we were pretty much on our own. We read, played on MJ's computer and attempted a few card games, sans the cards, playing with avatars on the computer. One of our nemeses, was a woman named Elayne who possessed a New York accent and was as obnoxious as could be. I'm currently still planning her demise.

All and all our trip was great. It was a good getaway, took me out of my comfort zone and even when we rented a bicycle built for two and MJ tried to run me into the ocean, I had fun. I got to use some muscles that I'd thought were put away for good, but to my surprise, still had the audacity to pain me when used.

The upstairs neighbor became a focal point. Not because she was special in any way, but because of her neurotic habit of pacing the floors from morning, about 5 AM until the late night. There is no way in the world that a person can appear normal after listening to her pacing incessantly for hours on end. Here is her story. She is from Colorado, divorced, about 54 years old and ugly as dirt. MJ said she has a good figure, but she must have been only looking at her lower calf. The rest of her was less then shapely possessing a linebackers neck...........and face! (Sorry, I call'em like I see'em.)

After cancelling our dinner with her, MJ told her a white lie about our attending her Thanksgiving meal, that Mel is a gourmet cook and insists on cooking just the two of us a private intimate dinner. The truth is, if I'm not ordering a pizza, we're not eating! Finally on Friday evening, we couldn't avoid her anymore and I was forced to meet Terry. Jesus H. Christ, what a mess??? Her condo was pleasant except for her. She was introduced to me and never stopped talking long enough to ask a single question. She must have a private air supply, so she doesn't even have to take a breath. She talked and rambled and changed topics without warning, leaving me trying to figure out how the two stories came together, but soon realized I was wasting my time even listening to her. It was then I shut her out and decided to listen to rap music, but it was just in my head. See, I even found the beauty in rap music.

Terry received a phone call that she needed to take, as it was from her brother in Japan. She left the room to talk in privacy and that's when I looked over to MJ and recited these words. "GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, NOW!" MJ smiled and said I could stand to learn a little patience and it was a holiday and Terry's not that bad, but I just continued to stare her down until she agreed to end our visit early. As we exited, I actually heard MJ make plans for the 3 of us to go out for pizza the following night and that's when I fantasized the first time, picturing myself choking her to death as a piece of pepperoni laden pizza was spewed from her mouth. We left.

The title of this post is the name I've affectionately given to Terry and she will forever more be known only to myself and MJ as Butt Stank.

Other than that, the trip was great. We walked, we rode a bike, we ate sea food, shopped Coronado Island and slept great..

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

We're Headed to San Diego for Thanksgiving....

It all started with a "honey, will you do me a favor"? MJ's North Carolina accent really kicks in when she wants something. Then I hear, "better get a pencil and paper and write all this down", that's when I know there's gonna be trouble. Well it turns out that MJ's dining table at the condo in San Diego is severely in need of a new base for the heavy table-top and it appears that after searching the lands, high and low, she's located one, right here in the valley in the Northeast section. Anytime I hear East Valley, I think of Mesa and it's a place that holds only terror for me. It's streets have different names and it's a completely different city than Phoenix or Scottsdale and having been born sans a sense of direction, it means getting lost and mass confusion. I admit freely that I do not possess a GPS system and if I did, it would probably be as confusing to me as a city such as Mesa!
I called the number that MJ gave me and got a voicemail of a Real Estate Broker, how quaint? Although I called before 8 PM, she never returned my call. When I awoke this morning, there was a message from the lady's husband saying he was handling the transaction and he'd be gone until about noon. At about 10 AM, MJ texted me that she was sure that I'd already picked up and purchased the table base and probably had already gotten the pumpkin pie and cool whip by now, right? Oh boy, I had her pumpkin pie right here!!!
At about 11:45 AM, I gave old Stuart Gippers a call and he answered. I reiterated who I was and what my mission was and he acted like he was aware of my existence and was expecting me. I told him I thought I could be there about 1 and verified his address. He began giving me detailed directions and how to get there. You wanna take the 101 to.... I stopped him and explained that I had already printed directions to his house from mine from Google Maps, to which he replied, huh??? Then proceeded to give me the detailed instructions including things like, look for the waterfall and the billboard of the Coppertone girl, that means you've gone too far. While I rolled my eyes I let him finish. Finally hanging up, I went out to my Expedition and removed the extra seat and aired up a couple of low tires and began my trip to a place called Mesa (What a place-a).
I really didn't have a difficult time finding the place, Google Maps knew of everything sans the waterfall and the Coppertone girl. I called old Stuart from in front of his house and he didn't answer. That's because he was already walking outside, probably because he had been watching out the window. He was about 72 years old, gave me a brief look into my own future and otherwise a pretty entertaining old guy. We wheeled out the table base and put it into my car, that's when I thought of screeching off with it, but decided to stay and pay him anyway. Old Stuart kept me standing in his driveway and found it necessary to tell me everything he knew about his old town of Mesa and asked if I'd had a chance to drive through his neighborhood. I explained, no and that I'd come right here as he was expecting me. He told me to be sure to drive by the new Methodist church, that it was now and the pride of the neighborhood and to check out some of the 5 million dollar homes nearby.
Stuart was a Cadillac man and he had an Esplanade in the driveway and a Sedan in the garage. Eventually he shared with me that they're both leased and they're trying to get out of the leases and he and his wife that turned out to be as wide as she was tall, had both gotten jobs. I wanted to ask what type of jobs they'd gotten, but I realized that was an invitation to another 20 minutes of conversation. So, I offered my hand and split.
My first thought was to call MJ and tell I'd secured the table base and her first question was, how much did I get it for? I tried to explain that when she emailed the fat lady, that her friend Mel was coming to pick it up, pretty much took away my negotiating powers. She agreed, although reluctantly.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Cookie Smuggler... A Story of LOVE....

My Saturday night date with MJ included a visit to the movies. MJ is an avid movie fan, while my past history hasn't been nearly as active at the cinema. I'd say off hand that I've been to 3 movies in the past 6 months and the last time before that I saw "Dead man Walking" with Sean Penn, so as you can see, I didn't used to be a fan of the movies. That's all different now that I don't smoke or drink.
MJ arrived at my house and brought me a present of a CD that plays fire on your TV screen. I literally didn't know what to say. Would you? When the movie of fire is over, the fire goes out. Pretty anticlimactic. We talked for awhile, as she tried to pry me out of the funky mood I was in, when suddenly she screamed, "We have to go"! The movie that was 5 minutes away, was starting in 15 minutes. I'd call that right on time. MJ is a little on the hyper side and a pretty controlling person. I mentioned it to her and she replied that she thought she could control that. Great!
MJ drove in her Cadillac with the new tires and made it a point to tell me to let my 3 readers know that she did in fact pay me for the tires, IF her bogus check ever clears. Fingers crossed, I'll have to wait until Monday.
Keep the category of "HYPER" in mind for the rest of the story.
Being the avid movie fan that she is, she keeps in her purse a couple of t-shirts that say Harkins Theaters and 2 empty plastic cups. These enable us to have free popcorn and $1 drinks. Frankly, more than I could understand. MJ pulls up in front of the theater and orders me out of the car to get into the line to purchase tickets, only there is no line. I begin to tell her I'll just go along to park the car and she screams "MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" You'd think they had just dropped the bomb on Hiroshima! I purchased the tickets and then experienced a strange phenomenon. Men were standing and waiting for their respective women to park their cars, pick them up and go into the movie theater.
MJ complained the entire time that you don't wait until we did, to go to a movie on date night. I'd never been to a movie on date night and wasn't even sure we were dating until last week when MJ informed me. Getting back to the fiasco.....
I offered to sit close to the screen, but little miss high maintenance refused to, sighting an old war injury to her neck. I was cool with that. We walked all of the way up the stairs on the West side of the theater and there were not 2 seats together. Descending, we headed to the East side of the theater and only about 2 steps up sat 3 people, then an empty seat, then a 400 LB woman about 25 years old, an empty seat, then another grossly obese woman that looked just like the first one, but much older. I believed them to be a mother cow and her calf. At this point I feel it's necessary in the interest of the story, to disclose that MJ is a little hard of hearing. Well, she very hard of hearing and I usually have to raise my voice the slightest bit to be heard. She's really a lovely, controlling girl, but just a little deaf. We all have flaws.
Realizing that MJ is now focusing in on these two, I begin to panic and think perhaps she doesn't realize WHY the two women have left a seat between them. These are the type that cannot fit in one airplane seat, why would they be able to sit next to one another in a movie? Suddenly, without warning MJ begins to give this duet the international sign to "move the hell over". The calf is trying to respond, while I'm speaking directly into MJ's best ear, "They're fat, that's why they can't sit together. MJ continues her assault. She begins to mouth, MOVE OVER... Now louder, I'm speaking into her ear, "they're too fat". MJ is now yelling, move over, when suddenly, without the aid of a hoist or anything, the calf gets up and moves over to the seat next to Mama cow. Now I whisper, pretty loudly so MJ might hear. "I don't want to sit next to them, we'll be crunched in. MJ volunteers to sit next to baby calf who informs MJ that she suffers from panic attacks in close situations, but she didn't want to scream it across the isle. Great, if this 25 year old heifer freaks out, MJ will be crushed and I'll have no ride home!
I keep sniffing the air to see if I can smell the fat chicks, but it's cool. With MJ to my left and a 15 year old kid to my right, the trailers were finally over and this kid is text messaging someone about every 90 seconds. His phone lights up and chimes it announcement and he gets busy texting back. Pretty soon it happens again, the kid giggles and replies, but doesn't forget to poke me about 1000 times with his awkward, recently grown arms. GREAT!
Picture this... Unknown to anyone, the two cows each have their own assortment of Tupperware full of goodies. Everything from cooked meat to slice cucumbers could be both smelled and heard. At some point, MJ had asked me where I keep my baggies at the house, and I told her, never asking why. About 20 minutes into the movie, I look over and there are now 3 fat chicks eating out of their respective plastic bags, with MJ munching away on a bagful of chocolate chip cookies! Whoa is me...
Sandra Bullock was great in the football movie and I teared up more than once. We went home and watched that fire on TV. You know, the second viewing was much better...

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Someone Call 911...

Another day of goodwill. MJ needed tires on her Cadillac and asked me if I knew of anyone that could help her with her purchase. Naturally with my professionalism in the tire area I offered my services. My first attempt was at Costco, where the young man stuffing something into envelopes was to be my salesman. Not looking up from his work, he asked what size and asked if I could wait a minute, as there was a tough one that just wouldn't go into that envelope. I agreed to wait as I rolled my eyes. He informed me that 4 Michelin tires in the correct size would run about $750. I explained that I was a dealer and was that as good as he could do? With a serious look, he informed me that they did not charge extra to dealers. Suddenly, I felt I just may be in the wrong place. Leaving there, I went home and tried a few old places on the Internet, that I probable had spent thousands of dollars over the years, but no one seemed to remember me at Discount Tire. I called a kid named Jason at the local Discount Tire and he informed me that mounting and balancing was $15 per tire. I told him that the most I'd paid was $8.50 and he laughed. He said it's NEVER been that cheap and he should know, after all he'd been there a year and a half! I told him I was hanging up and he said to be sure to ask for him when I came in. You betcha, Jason! By the way, Discount Tires' best price was $550 for 4 tires that were BF Goodrich.
I remembered a place that I used to buy used tires for some of my cars that were a little older. They carried what we used to call "take-offs". Let's say you buy a new car and it has Bridgestones and you don't like Bridgestones and want Michelins. They take off the Bridgestones, give you a fair price for your almost new tires and sell you Michelins. I want to buy those almost new Bridgestones at a greatly reduced price. I buy them from a place called Tire Dawgs.
I called Tire Dawgs and tell them what I want, but specify "NEW" tires and I know they can get them from any wholesaler. I get transferred to a guy named Albert who listens intently, and agrees to call me back. Only that call never comes. In the meanwhile, MJ brings over her Cadillac and she goes ahead and transfers about 3000 items from her trunk and backseat into my little Toyota that is her new loan car. With two toots, she kisses me, thanks me and drives off.
I awaken bright and early today about 10 and go immediately to work, starting with a call back to Albert, who vaguely remembers me and says he put that order on the bosses desk, didn't he call me? I fed all of the information to Albert again, just like we never spoke and that's when I realized I MAY have been talking to the wrong guy. Albert DID call me back this time, about 30 minutes later with a price of $380 mounted and balanced and out the proverbial door. I countered with $350 and go an emphatic, resounding, NO! I told him to get them and I'd be there 30 minutes after he called me back, telling me to come. It was an off brand but who really cares? I think we have a deal.
MJ is a hospess nurse and we laughed about all of the items she carries in her trunk. Bed pans, tons of adult diapers, catheters and other things the terminal might need. The most noticeable things are the diapers and they're packaged in clear plastic bags. Lots of them. Also in the trunk was a renegade tire that began all of the fuss, having the nerve to lose air. At about 2 PM, I get the call from Tire Dawgs. It's Albert telling me the tires are in. I hop into the car and out of habit check the gauges to make sure there's enough gas. I sit there and wait for the limp dead needle to go, but it doesn't and just sits there hanging around 1/8 of a tank, probably enough to just get there, but not make it home. Shit! MJ said there was enough gas, about 1/4 of a tank, but no....
Now the right front tire is a donut. Do I drive on the freeway with a donut or take surface streets and go 35 MPH? Long ride, better gas mileage on the freeway, all of these factors entered into the equation. I hopped onto the Squaw Peak Expressway and went 55 MPH creating not one single friend, except an old lady driving a Mercedes, right on my tail.
Exiting at Washington Street, I fought crossing the Light Rail's path and avoided a serious accident pulling into Tire Dawgs after having to make a u-turn and coming back. Try this some time and find out why so many cars are getting hit by our new train.
Entering Tire Dawgs, I'm guided into a stall by a man that clearly spoke no English and I was forced to open the trunk for them to access the flat tire. Not realizing what the contents of the trunk offered, I watched Miguel call over about 5 co-workers and pointed to the adult diapers and then to me. A roar of laughter occurred and suddenly I felt a little uncomfortable, wishing I'd learned to speak Spanish years ago. I tried to simulate the International sign for "I can't control my water" and must have been successful, as a second roar occurred.
I paid, left and was driving home when I remembered the low gas situation. I pulled into a gas station at 32nd and Van Buren and would you believe there were antique gas pumps that did not accept credit cards? If you thought I was going inside in that neighborhood, you're badly mistaken. I didn't even have a gun! Driving further North, I found a place that would accept my card, but could not for the life of me figure out how to open the gas door. I spent 35 years in the car business and thought I knew of every place to hide the little button, but no. I was forced to call MJ again. She was laughing hysterically and saying just push it, it opens. Hmm... Never thought of that!
Mission accomplished, feeling pretty good, I sit back and watch a little TV while MJ is out with her co-workers celebrating her new job. About 8 PM, she shows up driving my little Toyota, drunker than 15 Apaches planning an attack on the Fort. Plops down on top of me and kisses me and thanks me for my efforts. We sit around for 30 minutes, she tells me she forgot to bring her checkbook and goes home because she has an early day tomorrow with her ex-lover, Ralph. I stood there in my driveway feeling like a penny waiting for change, as she peeled off. She yelled goodbye, I yelled what about my money? She yelled, I'll call ya!
My question is, should I call 911 or wait 24 hours???

Wednesday, November 18, 2009


Today's Realtor informed me that my lovely home has been on the market 68 days, but she doesn't know about renegade Realtor that had it for 30 more days.
Last night found me driving my red Corvette to MJ's house to take her to dinner. As I was leaving my house, I looked in the mirror and saw "Boring Mel" dressed boring, feeling boring, about to get into a boring Toyota. One look at that sparkling red Corvette and I knew what I needed to spice me up! Chinese food! SO I hopped into the Vette and frankly at 63 my hopper has slowed a little and fired her up and screamed off leaving a patch of rubber on my street and my neighbors saying the same thing they say whenever I leave. There goes that crazy old coot again. I arrived at MJ's a little quicker than usual and left the car in the street hidden behind her bushes, as a surprise. Big deal, right? I rang the bell, entered and found MJ alone, her DIL was bathing her granddaughter. MJ assured me she'd had her fill of food for the day, after a celebration with coworkers, of her new job starting today and her old one ending. We shot to the Chinese restaurant and I watched MJ not order a single thing. That's right, she ordered EVERYTHING! Noodles and Kung Pow this and Moo Goo that. That woman can put it away and never even slows down! As I picked at my number 14, MJ smiled and consumed...
I took her back to her house and her DIL was watching a movie, but quickly vacated the family room in favor of our privacy, so we could neck. Ah, nice to be 16 again....
Ten PM struck and I didn't know what hit me as I found myself standing in her driveway alone. I climbed into my little red friend and drove home always conscious of Johnny Law, when suddenly I realized the real partiers don't even start until 11 PM.
I awakened this morning around 8:30 AM by an annoying phone call. I read the caller ID to see if it was someone I wanted to speak with and Presidential Campaign was NOT on my list. Was it election time again? Does Obama know about this? Upon further inspection, I saw it was Prudential Arizona another Realtor.... no message. On my cell phone there was a message from a Diane McDonald with an attitude. I called her back and she made an appointment that she decided NOT to keep, but not even call until 2 hours later and she called to say she'd be right over. I told her to go away, her appointment was 2 hours earlier and to try again sometime. She was pissed!
At 11:30 I got a call from a woman named Victoria Something-or-other and she said she'd be here in 30 minutes. That worked out fine. I was out in front washing my boring Toyota when she pulled up in her Lexus SUV, 93% of all Realtors drive these, I've checked and 79% of those are tan with the remaining 21% being white.
Victoria got out and I yelled, "Hello lady" and she approached handing me a card. I looked at her card and immediately knew I'd seen her before and requested the computer in my head to give me the answer. While still looking at her picture and by the way, the picture was a good 15 years old, I said out loud, "I know where I know you from,"! Stammering, the lady started back-stepping and saying she's not on there anymore, are you? I said, no I'm seeing someone.. Victoria then volunteered that she was indeed "On There" again, but doesn't like it. We laughed.. Victoria is one of the woman that wrote to me, that I didn't respond to, for whatever reason. It was long ago, but we probably both remembered that. How awkward!
Life goes on.... MJ just called to tell me that her tire is very low. I may just have to make a "service call"!!!

Saturday, November 14, 2009

A Day at the Fair...

I just checked and sure enough, I'm about 1/2 inch shorter as a result of walking off genuine height at the Fountain Hills Arts and Crafts Show. Again with the same 3 generations of females, I trudged faithfully along behind MJ, her granddaughter Angela and her DIL Latisha.
Naturally my first stop was the restroom, but it was a long ride up to Fountain Hills and I'd mistakenly taken a Lasiks........big error. Immediately after that it was time for junk food or as MJ put it, Kettle Cake loaded with powdered sugar and cinnamon. When the lady looked at me, I said the famous line from Harry Met Sally, "I'll have whatever she's having"... We sat and ate while Angela devoured Chicken-kabob of barbecued chicken and Latisha had a plateful of Chinese favorites, rice, noodles and egg rolls. Latisha is a little girl, but can put away food like an army! If you get too close to her, you can hear her metabolism working away. Oh, to be 25 again.
Next was a visit to the fudge packer, a gentleman that was an expert at slicing off fudge at precisely a quarter pound and packing it into wax paper and a plain white paper bag, so no one has to know of your indiscretion. He nailed us for about a 1/2 LB sampling. MJ choosing pumpkin and Latisha going for the chocolate peanut butter. Fortunately they were willing to share of lose their teeth to sugar erosion on the spot!
If you asked my feet, they would simply describe the walk as about 200 miles, but I'm certain it wasn't over 100 frankly. We were cruising along with Angela in her stroller when we came upon a woman that was on the ground with a couple of people around her, clearly very concerned. It appeared that the woman had suffered a seizure and I pointed her out to MJ who was otherwise occupied. Without a moment's hesitation, she handed me her fudge, lemonade, Italian ice and went immediately to work as a nurse, pretty much saving this poor woman's life. She took charge, rolling the seizure victim onto her size opening her airways and loosening any restrictive clothing. She was assisted by a firefighter and an EMT, but was definitely in charge until an emergency vehicle arrived to cart off the poor woman, whose mother was present telling everyone her daughter was 17 weeks pregnant.. I was pretty impressed with MJ, who was cool as a cucumber through everything. After this unexpected event took place, MJ came right back complaining that her Italian Ice was melting... She smiled exposing an orange tongue, indicating she'd already had enough.. In fact she may have been on a sugar high!
After that, we walked another 50 or 60 miles and headed back to civilization. Everyone was pretty quiet on the ride home and I was able to mark Kettle Cake with powdered sugar and cinnamon off my "Bucket List"...

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

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....

Saturday, November 7, 2009

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.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

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!