She Should have Taken the Bus...

The image in my mind is as if it were yesterday. The year was 1999 and if anyone knew of the area in Phoenix, AZ referred to as Van Buren Street, you recognized it as the area for prostitution, where drugs were available 24 hours a day, in addition to the ''buy here pay here" automobile cortex. I was in the automobile business and in order for me to maintain my business license, I was required to maintain an address within certain C-3 properties in this specified area. Therefore, I introduce to you, AIRPORT ENTERPRISES. Yours truly was the president and CEO. My property included an office along with a 3 car garage that I referred to as the compound. To remain within the law, I had to maintain at least 3 cars at the location, which I did. Right down the street from me was Maaco, that was owned and operated by a friend of mine, where I also had a lot cars repainted, if they needed it? One day while waiting to pull out into traffic from Maaco, I was forced to respond to a street walker that approached me and plainly asked me if she she could perform oral sex on me? I mean I was waiting to make a left! Not knowing what to respond, I simply and briefly answered that, "No sorry, I just had some!" With a confused look on her face, I pulled away, glad to have a break in traffic.

So one day around 5 PM, I'm leaving my office, that by the way, was in a gated parking lot and I pull out past the gate into the driveway and wait to make a left turn. Now to my left is a public bus stop along with an overhang covering a bench and lots of people waiting to go home . In order to see past these people to see if traffic is coming, I'm inching forward to catch a glimpse. Just a little more and I'll be able to see. As soon as I can actually see, there is a break in traffic and I hit the gas to execute my left turn, but as soon as I hit the gas, I feel something as if I've hit something and  sure enough a lady walked in front of my car and I knocked her clear into the second lane of traffic! Fortunately, there was no one coming and she got up off of the ground, walked up to my red 1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee and started pounding her 2 fists onto my hood! After doing that, she looked at me and yelled, "You should be more careful, that was close!" Meanwhile, I thinking, "CLOSE", that was a direct hit! I was already picturing her in my 3500 Square foot home in North Scottsdale and floating in my pool, with my red Corvette in the garage that she only uses on weekends, "CLOSE?" As soon as I looked into her eyes, I realized what I was dealing with. Her eyes were glazed and she was threadbare, like a homeless person. She was so thin that her legs looked like sticks coming out of the leg holes of her shorts. She was stoned out of her gourd! She continued walking down the street and exited the scene. I gave her the obligatory 10 count, 2-4-6-8-10 and split! That was  CLOSE alright! I was still shaking when I got home...

As the World Turns...

Well it turns out that what I've believed most of my life is true. I am part American Indian. Here is how I've determined that. I've never grown a beard before. I've always wondered how I'd look with one, but for one reason or another it's just never been opportune to grow one until now. I cleared my schedule just for the growing period, a very delicate time. So I just went about 2 weeks without shaving and learned that I not only don't look good with a full beard, but cannot even grow a decent beard, similar to the American Indians. What did grow was tacky, patchy, and different colors running between silver, gray, and white in places with a dark brown memory of my more youthful days. Days left behind, I'm afraid. So my theory is to do what you know how to do, so I left a mustache and goatee that I knew I could handle well. After 2 weeks of being accused of being homeless, not to mention the constant itching, I finally abandoned my hairy face and accepted my destiny as an American Indian. Chief Harry Chin.

A strange thing happened a few nights ago. I was leisurely lying in bed reading a horrible book, when I received notice from a dating service that I had a message from a potential mate. Rather excitedly, I opened my mail to see it was from a woman that I had communicated with about a year ago and for one reason or another we just stopped chatting. Actually I remembered her well. She's attractive, the same religion as I, Jewish and resides in France. After exchanging a few emails, we spoke on the phone for 2 and 1/2 hours and she turned out to be quite nice and we're supposed to speak again. She has a package with her phone company that allows her to call the states for free, so I kind of feel like the fat chick waiting for the phone to ring, a week before prom. She's in charge of scheduling. Here's something even stranger, her mother's maiden name is the same as my last name, Fisher, so we may be cousins! Don't worry, we're not planning on having children, not yet anyway...