Things I've Left Behind....

Dating Summary...

2012-01-27T13:35:00.001-08:00

Back to the dating grind. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. I've already told you about "Gum on My Shoe" and I'm pleased to report that she's over and I haven't heard another peep after the initial 3 emails including PS's. Later the same week, I met up with Ronna, pronounced Ron-na, as she so politely explained in her first email. Ronna is allegedly 56 and just coming out of a 36 year marriage that she spoke about all effin' evening. Guess what, she's not fond of her ex-husband, particularly since he just married a friend of Ronna's. She seemed enthusiastic until the evening we met. We were to meet at Dillions, since she lived very close by and it was just a few blocks away, at most. When I arrived, right on time at 6:30 PM, the place was mobbed and there wasn't even standing room. I spotted her pretty quickly and she was texting someone and that someone happened to be ME! It said, "Are you here"? I tapped her on the shoulder and replied, "Yes"! I suggested we go somewhere else, as it was clearly too busy and noisy to talk. I offered for us to drive in one car, mine. She declined, not knowing if I had planned on raping her or not. I had already decided NO! Ronna seemed nice enough, but was too recently "hurt" and her pain was palpable. In addition, in my opinion she had clearly begun the melting process that some women and men go through. It's a process where all of their facial features begin to sag and she appears to be melting. Her gullet reminded me of a turkey She was 5' 4" and plump and for me that's just not going to work. She seemed like a pretty nice person and I did feel sorry for her with her story of abandonment, but I wasn't there to make friends, I'm out there to find a mate, a partner, if you will? When it was time to say goodnight at her car, I asked her if she were going to ask me out again and she said "sure", but you what? She never called!

Next was a phone call to the lovely Anna. I've been putting off calling Anna because she was born and raised in Poland and had an accent even in her writing. She eventually confessed that she was better in speaking on the phone, as opposed to writing, but as this story continues, you'll see that's NOT the case. I called Anna on a Monday evening and she did not answer, so I left her a message that was very polite, asking her to return my call and left her my phone number. I even repeated it slowly so she had time to write it down next to my name. The following evening I sent her a text saying, "I was hoping you'd call tonight". She ignored that but the following day, I received a text back asking "Who is this, please?" So I texted her back:

"It's Mel, how many men left you messages on this phone number on Monday?"

She replied, "I'll call you tonight"!

On Wednesday evening, I was talking to my son on the phone, when the beep indicated another call. I let it go to voicemail, seeing it was her. Immediately after hanging up, I called Anna back and apologized for not being able to take her call. That was the smoothest that conversation went. Somehow we began discussing her job which is the family owned retirement homes she is a part of and how she used to be in real estate. I mentioned that the economy was not currently conducive to the real estate business and she argued that the economy has never been better. She and her sister are looking for a house in Scottsdale and everything they see is sold before they can even make an offer. I take the phone away from ear and look at it. Is she living in 2007? All the restaurants are so busy, you cannot even get in and nothing is wrong with the economy. The entire conversation was one contradiction after another. Anything I said was wrong and she just needed someone to verbally abuse. After about 20 minutes of this abuse, she clearly said:

Mel, I don't tink we are a match. I wish you da best of luck and .........

That's, when I interrupted her and said:

I finally agree with you on something and hung up!

I felt like I had just lost a boxing match...

Next on the list was a tall blond, about 5' 9" and awfully pretty. We met online and chatted all evening. I started telling her about my Blackberry and how I really ought to get the iPhone that is due to me, as per my upgrade, but I fear learning my way around a new phone, since I really just mastered the Blackberry. I asked her what type of phone she had and what number was assigned to her? (I thought that was a pretty swift way to ask for a phone number, huh?) She replied that she got hers off the fruit stand, it's an Apple! That made me smile but couldn't help but notice there was no phone number along with her email. I casually mentioned and she replied that she must have forgotten, what's MY number? I just gave it to her. She lives in Carefree and has a Montana prefix, 406.

Patricia called me the following day and we were off to a great conversation when suddenly she received a phone call from her Montana guests that were driving down and they were 3 minutes away! She apologized and I told her to go and enjoy her company and call me when they leave. She emailed me that she enjoyed our conversation, what there was of it and she would definitely call me again. I kind of feel like the fat chick waiting for an invitation to the prom!

Last but not least is Lacy. I saw Lacy on Match and kind of liked her appearance. She's 59 and about 5' 4" with blond hair and a pretty face (in her picture). I watched a comedian on TV the other night who addressed the dating sites and he said that everyone has that ONE great picture that they use for attracting members of the opposite sex. Come on, you know which picture it is, don't you. Well for me, it's the picture I use for this blog and of course he's right and it really made me laugh. Well, supposedly this was Lacy's special picture too. The comic went on to say what he really wants to see is a picture of the girl's mother! Or a picture of her miserable and unhappy because that's how she's gonna look all of the time if she gets with him!

Getting back to Lacy. In her first email to me, she went on and on and I could see she was a talker. I was reading along about something, when suddenly out of nowhere, she writes, "My real age is 63". REAL AGE??? She evidently has a real age AND a make believe age, hmm..... A few days later, I called her. Lacy was BORING. I mean real BORING. She talked about her husband, her 7 year boyfriend, her children and their accomplishments and here's the killer. She gave a sniffle after every second sentence. I long, loud one. I controlled myself not to say, BLOW YOUR NOSE! Plus the TV was blaring in the background and I had a hard time hearing her but didn't feel it was my place to tell her to lower the sound. I didn't make a date with Lacy because I wasn't sure I wanted to meet her. When you're bored with the conversation on the phone, you can actually fall asleep in person!

Kind of Like Gum on My Shoe...

2012-01-24T21:57:00.001-08:00

Chemistry.com was a gift from Match.com in 2004, when it was first developed. They needed a customer base in order to sell their new creation and I was already a member of Match, so I inherited Chemistry.com. Up until now, I've only had one meeting with anyone in all those years. She was a recently divorced woman that I felt sorry for, more than anything else. I amuse myself with Chemistry, kind of like playing an online video game, because from experience I know nothing is going to result from it. For some reason, Chemistry.com attracts people that are sitting on the fence as far as meeting new people. Along came Ann, with her coffee cup up close to her mouth, making me think there was either half a face missing or at best, a serious tumor. She assured me it was neither. The first contact on that service is to let the other person know that you are interested by choosing them. I did that. Next, I was notified that Ann was interested too. Chemistry then suggests you send the person an email or a game to play with you. One is called Love it or Leave it. They show you pictures of various things and you are to say whether you love it or would leave it. Cocktails for example. I leave it. Smart cars, leave it. We matched on 5 out of 5, causing no more than a smile. We emailed for a couple of days and then Ann offered me her private email address, along with that came her full name. Let's call her Ann Jones, not her real name.

At some point in emailing, I asked for her phone number and she told me she wasn't quite ready to do that. We emailed some more and I ended up sending her my heart invasion story from my blog, Has This Ever Happened to You? She loved it and caused her to do a lot of thinking. After I confirmed that it was true, she offered me her telephone number. A couple of days later I called, not wanting to seem too anxious. She lived in Tempe, quite a distance from me. Frankly, at that time I had more on my plate than I was comfortable with as far as women to choose from. I had rejoined Match.com on an impulse and the old woman there saw fresh meat and bombarded me with emails.

When I spoke with Ann, she seemed intelligent, poised, dignified and reserved. Not loud in any way and someone I'd like to get to know better. After a couple of weeks of chatting, we finally decided to meet. I suggested Paradise Valley Mall, because I was craving one of the chicken sandwiches they offer there at Chili's. She wanted to meet at Fashion Square in Scottsdale, about a 50 minute ride for me. I left at 11:09 and arrived promptly at noon. We were to meet by the piano in Nordstrom's. When I got there, there was an elderly plump guy sitting in the chair, evidently awaiting someone and I feared she would think that it was me and walk off. I walked around the area looking at women's purses for about 10 minutes when my phone indicated I had a text. (Why not a call?) The text said she was at Mountain View and Scottsdale Rd. and must have daydreamed and didn't get off the 101 in time. She had overshot us by 20 minutes! I called her and she gave me some excuse why she wasn't paying attention, but I rather think she just didn't know where Fashion Square was. Twenty more minutes of looking at women's purses and I decided to text her that she should text me when she arrives in the parking lot and I'll start watching for her. She texted me back that she's in woman's shoes shopping and she's wearing a green scarf. NOW, I'M PISSED! All this time I'm wondering around without a direction, trying not to wander too far and she's shoe shopping. That's when I should have left for home.

I arrive in the shoe department and there is a rather plump lady wearing a green scarf shopping for shoes, not even looking up to see if I'm near. She looks similar to her picture, what there was of it, except she was quite a bit more stout. With a large, flat, ass. The kind that plump old ladies have, but she was really only 55. (I checked!) You may have asked yourself why she is doing all this texting when she has a brand new smart phone, although it is from Cricket. I was with Cricket for a time and everyone said I sounded like I was in a tunnel and honestly, I NEVER talk in tunnels! Ann sounded like she was in a tunnel too. In addition to the tunnel syndrome, Ann confessed that she lives with a former boyfriend and he has her phone tapped and knows details of all of our conversations, so texting and emailing is safer. I'm already thinking RUN, but stick around long enough to see what I'm going to be missing real soon. Ann was pleasant enough, if it weren't for her living arrangement, punctuality, overall size and big flat, fat ass!

We were both pretty hungry by this time and the only place we could find to eat, sold exclusively sea food and I hate fish. I finally found a chicken sandwich that I found less than exciting and only ate half. Ann scooped up the second half and carried it around all afternoon. We did some serious walking, about 4 hours of it, when she said she needed to stop and text her daughter. Her own car was out of gas in her garage and she has her daughter's car and she's running too late to pick her up. We sat there 30 minutes waiting for her daughter to text back, she never did. So we decided to just go to the parking lot and get our cars. I was parked on the lower level and Ann's car was a floor up, so being the gentleman, I offered to drive her to her car. She hopped into the Volvo and we drove up the ramp to her vehicle. I parked, walked her to her car door and gave her a quick peck on the lips goodbye. She said goodbye and I walked off to my car and got in. Just as I was about to pull away, she yelled MEL! I stopped and got back out and asked what was wrong? She said her car wouldn't start. I was just seconds away from a clean getaway too! I tried honking her horn and it was fine, I tried her lights and she said they were very dim. Not a good sign. She asked me if I had jumper cables and remember seeing them on the garage wall. no help at all, there. I asked her if she had AAA and she said it was expired. I told her they would let her renew it right over the phone with a credit card. I also know it takes an hour to go through it. I've done it. She settled into my passenger seat to go through the system with AAA, as I looked off into the distance. At some point she asked if I had to be somewhere or could I wait with her. Again, I couldn't think of a lie in time and sat there. It was now over six hours since noon. At 6:10 her phone vibrated and it was AAA looking for her in the parking lot. She told them where we were and a young kid in a van pulled up. Ann hopped out, leaving the passenger's door open and addressed the kid driving the van. He was about 20 years old, clean cut good looking boy and Ann was clearly enamoured with him. I kind of disappeared in the background and that was okay, because he was going to get her going, not me. He offered to check her battery first and she said she already tried it and it was dead. He put his gauge on it and it tested fine. That's when she offered that it was only a couple of months old. I wonder how she knew how old her daughter's battery was? She drove a Mercedes sports car, but it was out of gas at home. That's when the kid got into the car and turned the key on the ignition and to everyone's surprise, the engine started right up, no jump needed. With my mouth agape, I said goodbye and kissed Ann on the cheek and left. You know the first thought that crossed my minds, right? What the hell was that all about? I'd say I got about 5 miles in the thick 6 PM traffic when the first phone call came, accusing me of running off and leaving her. I laughed and remembered the 90 minutes I just spent waiting with her for unneeded roadside assistance. From that point on it took me about an hour to get home in constant stop and go traffic. When I got home Julie said, "Must have had a good time, you were gone a long time". I started telling her the story when I received call number 2 from Ann, wanting to know if I abandon all my dates, ha ha.... I chatted with her for about 10 minutes and said I was starving, I was, I said goodbye, knowing that she worked a 16 hour day the next day, she told me.

Now remember, her boyfriend has her phone tapped and he supposedly has a background as a private detective. The texting started about noon, I'd say. She texted every few hours and on her breaks and lunch hour. It kind of reminded me of getting gum on your shoe and not being about to get free of it. When she got home, she started texting full time. Now during our date, she told me she was off on Thursday but had plans with a girlfriend, not that I was interested. The texting now said, she was off the following day after a morning meeting. Do I want to do something? I decided to not answer. I told her I was turning off my phone to read. She continued to have a full conversation without me through text messages. The last one said, "is it yes or no for the movies"? That's when I decided that a Dear Jane (ANN) letter was in order.

When I awakened on Thursday, there was a last text that said, "What time do you rise in the morning?" and there was a hang up, no message call to my phone. I had a cup of coffee and then composed the following email.

Dear Ann:

After staying up last night until almost 3 AM, I see that you went ahead and had an entire conversation without me through texts. I also see that you called at 10:24 and did not leave a message. I have something that I need to tell you. Because of our single meeting, I didn't find it necessary to tell you that I'm not feeling a chemistry between us. In other more plain words, I'm just not physically attracted to you. It's nothing that you've done, although your roommate situation doesn't enhance you to me, it just nature's way of saying no. I wish you the best of luck in finding happiness and hope you resolve the previously mentioned situation soon.

Mel
And she replied:
I am so ok with it. Thank you for being honest
I wish you would have told me sooner I would have not wasted your time or mine. And the previous situation is resolved!
Ann
But then the PS:
Just want you to know I do not leave voicemails, since there is texting, so if someone does not answer I just text. I am sorry you were part of the drama with an old boyfriend, which is now over, he just needs to move out.

It is a amazing we were 5/5 the one big difference is when you told the waiter that people don't care, I totally disagree with you, I care about people I think their journey in life is fasnating and that is what makes life so interesting.................................I am sorry you don't care about others. You are a very unique writer and your stories are so real, because they are real.......................you think people don't care. Then why do you write!

Side note* Whew....... I was joking with the waiter. He asked why we were so friendly and other customers just sit there real serious, I said because people just don't care about you. (At the time, it was funny)

Stalker ~ Part Two

2012-01-02T17:04:00.000-08:00

When we left off, Adrienne had recontacted me and it turned out that she couldn't take a hint. She emailed me a 5 page letter that talked about all that went on back in the days when she was my girlfriend and how sorry she was about sleeping with my best friend. I never let her know she was set up, but was shocked to learn that my buddy Dave sold me out. I didn't feel nearly as bad about sleeping with his girlfriend when he didn't know about it either. (The good old days).

Eventually Adrienne left her husband and found true love with a retired Chicago police officer. He was a little guy about 5' 7 or 8" and I had checked him out with family members that were retired Chicago cops. I had a good reason to check this guy out and I'll explain why. Adrienne continued to email me jokes and things of interest. One of the things she sent me was a hate email concerning Jane Fonda and how she sold out our country during the Viet Nam war. I wrote her a reply that it was time to forgive and forget and please don't get all upset about something that was over 40+ years ago. Well, her "gung ho" boyfriend heard about my reply to her and unloaded on me that he wanted to come to AZ. and kill me. Just to piss him off more, I wrote him a note in reply saying that he should love everyone and just because he has threatened my life doesn't mean that I don't love him and want to still be his friend and when can we get together. His reply was worthy of a retired underworld thug. He knows people that would mess me up and I'll be sorry about the day I was born and so on. I decided to spread that joy and had a few friends plus my son writing to him to tell him they loved him too. Eventually, he begged me to eliminate him from my mailing list. I continued to include him in every holiday card that I sent out. Every Christmas, Easter, Labor Day and Memorial Day, I let him know I was thinking of him. It went on for about 3 years until Adrienne and her boyfriend were just memories and that is where I wanted them!

Stalker!

2012-01-02T13:38:00.000-08:00

This picture was taken at a NYC hotel in 1965.
I'm on the left.

The year was 1965 and I was dating a girl named Beryl Paddor. Beryl was a senior at New Trier High School and her family owned Paddors Women's Wear that appeared in most of the Chicago area malls. Beryl played the guitar and fancied herself a good hippie guitarist and whipped out her guitar and sang wherever there was a crowd. I had quit school and was involved in the men's wear business with a business partner named Mike Luckman. We carried a men's slack line that was terribly unsuccessful. We didn't care that we didn't make very much money because we both lived with our parents and had no overhead. Mike had man-boobs, unknown to me and when he went to Skokie Valley hospital for a bilateral mastectomy, Beryl and I went to visit him. She was probably the only person in history to be asked to leave the lobby of a hospital for singing and playing her guitar!

I heard about a menswear line that was available in my area for a company that had a great following called Gaslight Slacks. So they flew me to New York for an interview. They were looking for someone in their mid twenties to carry their youth oriented line of slacks, so I lied and said I was 26. Although they considered me as not having any experience, they thought I was bright enough to be taught and decided to hire me, but I would have to stay in NYC for 6 weeks for training. I was great with that, as it was going to be an adventure!

Now remember, I was only 18 and on the way up to my reserved room at the Holiday Inn on 57th Street, I asked the bell hop to send a prostitute up to my room. I thought I was "big time". He told me it would cost me $50 and I was ready to hand over that amount. I waited in my room and paced the floor waiting for this movie star type 20 something to arrive. Suddenly there was knock at the door and there stood this broken down 50ish drug addict asking if I was the gentleman that ordered company. I slammed the door and screamed, "No, wrong room"! I learned my lesson early on, that reality is what it is and $50 won't buy a young 18 year old a movie star! Even in 1965!

I began my training period where I was sent out everyday with one of their local salesmen. On the weekends, I was told I could go home if wanted to, at the companies expense. I took that to mean I could buy a plane ticket to anywhere and the company allowed it. They did. I went to visit friends I'd met in Florida who lived in PA and another weekend I went to Florida, but paid for my hotel myself. I was allowed $20 per day for a food allowance but bought a loaf of bread and peanut butter and jelly and pocketed the money. By the time I got home, 6 weeks later, I had enough for a down payment on a 65 Catalina convertible, for $1500 brand new. I financed the balance of $1500.

Getting to my stalker. I was walking in the lobby of the hotel one day when I saw a cute girl with her girlfriend and her girlfriend's parents. They were in NYC for the World's Fair in 65. I moseyed over and said hello. Her name was Adrienne Cohen and she was from a place called Morton Grove, the neighboring town from Skokie. I took her phone number and promised to call when I got home and I did.

She was 17 and really cute back then and we dated for a few weeks. At some point she became less than desirable when I realized she was not as bright as I needed in a girlfriend. I told her how I felt, leaving out the intelligence part, so as not to hurt her feelings, but did tell her I couldn't continue to see her. There was a long pause and finally she said she was going to ignore the last conversation that we'd had and everything would stay the same. With my mouth agape, she left. Was she serious? Could I not get rid of this genius? The following day she called just like nothing had happened. She did drive by's and would scream something out the window of her car, professing her love..

Eventually I figured out a plan. I arranged for her to meet me at my buddy, Dave Levee's house, only I didn't show up on time. I waited until she would have had plenty of time to have slept with him and when I did walk in, I pretended to be shocked at what I had found. She was all, I'm sorry, it's not how it looks. I was the betrayed lover and she was the adulteress. It worked. I didn't find out until many years later that she did indeed sleep with Dave! That was the end of Adrienne.

Many years had passed and it was 1998 and I was married to my 3rd wife Debra, when I came home from work one day and found a message from an Adrienne Cohen. My mother's maiden name was Cohen and my father had just passed away, so I figured it was someone from my mother's family offering condolences. I called the number and to my surprise, it was my stalker, Adrienne. She had attended my father's funeral in hopes of seeing me, but when she didn't, she asked my brother for my info. He was happy to give it her or anyone else that wanted it. I couldn't believe she had tracked me all the way to Arizona! We talked awhile and we caught up and she was at the end of her only marriage, had 2 daughters, one of which lived right here in AZ. That scared me. The first thing I did was tell my wife about her. She smiled and didn't care. Not a good sign in a good marriage. Then Adrienne sent me a picture and I saw her ample size of 5' 1" and 300 plus LBS and worst of all, guess what? She didn't get any smarter!

To be continued....

AT&T Did a Number on Me, (not a phone number)

2011-12-28T20:49:00.000-08:00

I just found out that Dolly Parton is a real live human being and not a Barbie Doll that was lifted to extreme heights on a platform, during a lightning storm, by a fellow named Dr. Frankenstein! For some reason that seems likely to me for an explanation. Oh well, it's one of those nights.

I did accomplish something today worthy of writing about. I have been a customer of AT&T's for 22 months now. I have a Blackberry telephone that I'm more than pleased with. I pay $111.00 per month for my privilege of being an AT&T customer. Accidentally, I learned that everyone else that has more minutes than me is paying less, so I called AT&T and spoke with a representative and she reduced my 900 minutes per month to 450 and allowed me to keep my rollover minutes, which is why I chose AT&T to begin with. That reduced my bill by $20, plus she explained that I would be allowed to have all mobile to mobile minutes free of any charge in an unlimited fashion. I reiterated, "all carriers"? She said yes, not just AT&T as before. Great, so my 450 minutes will only be affected by landline calls, plus I've got over 7000 minutes accumulated in my rollover minutes. I was more than pleased.

Then I spoke with another friend that also has AT&T and he told me he just got his data reduced to the minimum of 200 from unlimited and that saved him $20. So today, I called the mother company (AT&T) again and this time got a young lady that actually spoke English without any accent. She lowered my bill by another $20 per month by reducing my unlimited package to 200 Megabits. My bill is now $40 per month lower. I asked Sara to reiterate my package again and she omitted mentioning my mobile to "any" mobile portion, so I asked her about it. She said no, that is not on my package. I began getting irate as the first rep insisted it was good forever. We went up and back and Sara began apologizing for the previous reps mistake. I stopped her and explained that when a representative of AT&T enters into a contract with me, she is representing the company and "I'm sorry" just doesn't cut it.

Now I've been on the phone for about 30 minutes by this time and she asked me to hold while she spoke with a supervisor. Another 15 minutes went by when she asked if she could call me back? I mention that the conversation I'd had with the previous rep was taped according to what the message told me before I entered into a conversation with her and that if she had any doubts, she could go back and listen to the tape. She said they really don't use those and she has no way of finding out which location the girl came from. That's when I stopped believing her.

An hour later she finally returned my call, evidently the supervisor was out having a cigarette and here was my offer. She cannot do what I want, but she can offer me unlimited "any" mobile to any mobile plus unlimited texting that I really don't care about, for an additional $10. Now that's a good deal, I suspect, but NOT when I was given. I caved, mostly because I was bored with it and agreed to pay the additional 10 bucks. My contract is up in 2 months and I'm going to have to rethink AT&T. I'm also eligible for an iPhone for $99 and that will require more gigs if I get it. Plus it has a better camera!

Here's another thing. AT&T knew for the past 22 months that I had been oversold when I first got my phone and for 22 months they let me pay $40 too much. That doesn't create that warm and fuzzy feeling about AT&T, does it?

WARNING!!!

2011-12-20T22:42:00.000-08:00

I haven't been writing very much of late, the thought of sitting down in front of a computer screen just doesn't appeal to me lately. I was casually sitting on my reclining chair, pivoting between Letterman and Leno when I realized that a bowl of cereal sounded good. I had just watched a commercial about the holidays and how you have to watch your weight, so after arriving in the kitchen, I studied the inventory of cereals. I came across one that didn't look familiar, nor had I ever even heard of it before, perfect. I tried a finger tip of it and it reminded me of a whole grain type and it wasn't sweet at all. It was called "Ezekiel 4:9" and beneath that it said, "As described in the holy scriptures". Hmm.... How bad could it be, it's from Biblical times?

So I poured a generous portion of this shit and on my way to my reclining chair, I knew in the back of my mind it was going to end up in the garbage can. Being the open minded man that I am, I figured I'd give it a chance. If nothing else, it was high in fiber (I think). I settled in and began crunching on this stuff, when I realized the first spoonful was still in my mouth and about 2 minutes had gone by. A commercial came on the TV and I suddenly thought of the desert and wondered what it would be like to take a spoonful of desert sands, complete with milk and sugar and put it into your mouth. That's when I spit the shit out! It was like eating your way out of your grave!

Here it is the first night of Hanukkah and here I am a Jew, eating from the Holy Scriptures. I'm lucky there was no lightning involved!

Macy Takes a Dive...

2011-12-04T20:30:00.001-08:00

The night was exceedingly dark with no moon and the only thing that presented themselves were shadows. The time was about 8:30 and after a summer (her first) of above average temperatures, Macy has been enjoying the rather cold evenings we've been having, by barking and chasing off the would be imaginary trespassers in the neighborhood or she's planning a special rendezvous with the neighboring dog next door. Either way, she's been content to spend her time outside during this time of the year.

One thing I must note, Macy is NOT a water dog. She's either petrified of it from some time before she entered our household or she is just plain afraid of the water. If you want to get rid of Macy, show her a hose or pretend you're going to push her into the pool. She immediately tucks her tail between her legs and cowers away. Because she tends to be annoying when she's on one of her rants out there, it's just as obvious when it's too quiet. So during the commercial break of some TV show I was watching, I got up to check her and there was no Macy to be found. I called out her name repeatedly but no reaction. I poked my head into LJ's room through her sliding glass doors and asked if Macy were in there and she replied, No, LJ had taken a bath. I went back outside and searched the yard and just by chance I looked towards the pool and kind of noticed one spot that was darker than the rest and sure enough, there was Macy, nose up, holding onto the side of the pool for dear life. The only thing I could see as I got closer was her two front paws on the side and her nose sticking up and God only knows how long she's been in there. The water was almost freezing, as I pulled her up by her two front paws. Macy weighs about 80 LBS and soaking wet she was even heavier, but my adrenalin played it's part and I was able to pull her out with one try.

She bee-lined it towards the sliding door that I had left open and didn't shake off until she was safely inside, Macy would only walk next to the wall with her back kind of hunched and acted just strange. We dried her off and Julie took her into her room for some much needed pampering. About 3 minutes later Julie came out of her room and announced that Macy was receiving visitors now and I slowly entered and there was Macy, the princess, in the middle of Julie's king sized bed with pillows piled all around her just taking it all in.

I was kind of worried that she had gone into shock, so I looked it up on the Internet and it said to check for her gums appearing too light in color, but Macy's were a rosy pink, so I didn't worry too much. The following morning she came running out of Julie's room and jumped up on me, then the pool table and I knew she was back to normal. She had me a bit worried though. This summer, the first thing she learns is either how to swim or at least how to find the steps in the pool. These pups are worse than kids!

They Wait in the Shadows...

2011-11-28T21:39:00.001-08:00

When Macy came along, the first thing on my list to get was a crate to train her in. Evidently it wasn't even in the rankings on her list, because there was never a time when she was happy in the crate and would agree to stay. When forced to, she took it into her own hands and literally broke out within an amazing 10 seconds, pulling the entire front of the collapsible crate crate down, where she could easily just walk out ~~laughing.~~

The crate sat around collecting dust for about 6 months when I decided to finally try putting an ad on Craig's List. That turned out to be a similar fiasco. I really couldn't find a category for dog crates. There were dogs, but no pet supplies. There were pet services, so I tried both and never could find where my ad was placed. I paid $30 for the crate, "used" when I first bought it, but probably spent at least 5 or 10 dollars on gas picking it up. I put my ad in for $45, knowing I had bought it rather cheaply, but I never got a call for at least 24 hours. Finally on Saturday afternoon about 1 PM, a lady called and said she'd be right over. She was prompt and handed me $45 saying it was going to be perfect. The entire transaction took about 3 minutes. The fact is, Macy had not even had time to stop wagging her tail when the woman with her crate in tow, exited. Macy looked at me as if to say, WTF? Not much of a visit!

That's when the strange things started happening. I started getting text messages that asked if I'd take $25, I replied, Nah! When I checked my spam, it was unusually full for just one day and I checked to see where it was all coming from. It was the Craig's List Creeps! The individuals that sit around monitoring Craig's List for potential victims, suckers if you will? "Please supply your email address, along with your password, to verify that you are really you". Then in the browser, it says it's from Alibaba69. The best one was, YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF CRAIG'S LIST RULES BY PLACING MORE THAN ONE ADD IN A DAY AND WILL LOSE YOUR WELCOME ON CRAIG'S LIST UNLESS YOU SUPPLY YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS AND PASSWORD!!!" You really needed to have an attorney on hand to undertake such a task as placing an ad on Craig's List The average simpleton COULD lose the family, home along with his savings.

And the madness continued into today with more spam arriving with other insults to my intelligence, but I just delete. I felt pretty good enjoying my profit on something that should never have created one and splurged and ordered a pizza. I know, but I just went crazy!

Let There Be Light!

2011-11-15T20:41:00.001-08:00

Today's wound was from a falling ballast when I dismantled the light fixture in the laundry room. It is the fluorescent type that hold 2 four foot long tubes. When one bulb won't light, it's usually just a bulb, but when both won't light simultaneously, it's either the starter or the ballast, depending upon how old the fixture is. I learned this from a well informed employee of the world famous Home Depot. So today, instead of buying what I thought I might need, I first dismantled the light fixture and found a ballast, indicating the fixture was one of the newer variety. Opening the fixture, after removing the 2 tubes was similar to opening a Swiss watch. Things came flying out, mostly wires reminding me of a jack in the box popping up.

The next step took some nerve. It required me to cut the wires connecting the ballast in an, all or nothing, effort. Then just one small screw held up the hefty item and when it came crashing down to the floor, it cut my arm, ever so slightly. Casualty number one.

I took the old ballast to Home Depot and in no time at all, found an unsuspecting clerk to assist me. Lets call him Clem. Clem looked like every other Home Depot employee that you've ever seen. He wore his orange apron and was very polite. He asked me to wait while he finished up with a customer and I did. Finally Clem smiled and asked how he could assist me. Holding up my old ballast, I pointed out that I thought I needed a new one. He took it from me and inspected it. "Just as I thought Clem explained, it's a PX173945, these are going to be outlawed starting next month. I could sell you one today, but I wouldn't be doing you any favors. That's your government working for you"! Feeling like I owed Clem my life for keeping me within the law, I thanked him endlessly, repeatedly wiping my sweating brow. Talk about dodging a bullet!

Clem walked us over to a selection of the new streamlined ballasts that are approved for extended use. He squatted down to search the bottom shelf creating a sound that I wasn't expecting, kind of a sickly groan. Then he told me that he wasn't used to being old and reached for his reading glasses. I smiled and pointed to mine, part of the "old guys" necessities. That's when Clem started to share. He told me that his daddy told him that after 40, things would start getting tough. He laughed and told me that he was never better between 40 and 45, then all hell broke loose, now that he's turned 50. Trying not to blurt out, "you ain't seen nothing yet", I casually mentioned that I'm 65 and one day, and they don't let you know ahead of time, every square inch of skin on your body changes and begins to look like your scrotum......................... and it happens overnight!!!

That's when Clem looked at me and nothing came out. He was silent, just staring at me. I think this is when we went from customer and clerk to just two guys telling it like it is. Things seemed to move in slow motion as Clem's face curled into a smile and he let out the biggest, loudest belly laugh he ever let out in his 50 years. After composing himself, he asked me, yours got 2 blue wires, 2 red wires, 2 yellow wires, a black wire and a white wire? I said, yes and he sent me to the cashier's. I went home and tried my very best to not electrocute myself. I installed the new ballast, my LEGAL one and got the biggest thrill when I turned the light switch and it actually worked. Let there be light!

Direct TV and Dish Network and Still No Help...

2011-11-14T21:30:00.001-08:00

This is one of the few households that subscribe to both Dish Network and Direct TV. I'll get to the reason that I'm telling you that in a moment. Last week I had the miserable job of replacing a kitchen faucet. If you think about it, the working condition leave a lot to be desired. You're squeezed in under the sink with the pee trap and the garbage disposal to keep you company and no matter what you do, you cannot reach whatever it is that you're trying to reach. Once you devise a route to get to said location, you then have to perform a task on that part that requires movement, which is certainly not going to happen. They have devised something called a faucet wrench that we purchased for the job, but I never found the occasion to use it. There's another $12 item that will sit on the table next to it's receipt forever. Now picture yourself reaching up to attache a bolt to the hot and cold water knobs of your sink. Are you picturing where it is? Are you picturing the pee trap and the garbage disposal in their proper place? Now, with only the one hand that can access the thread of the knob, try wrapping silicone tape around the threads. I completed said task, got the bleeding to stop on my head, where I whacked it on the cabinet corner (actually saw stars on that one) and it only took me one afternoon and 3 trips to Home Depot. I told my son at lunch the other day that I installed a faucet in the kitchen sink. All he asked was,"How many trips to Home Depot did it take"? I said 3. He said, "Nice job"! We both laughed because we know that whatever you purchase at Home Depot, for whatever reason, is not going to happen in one trip. My catastrophe was when I was all finished, my hoses that came out of the new faucet would not even come close to the water supply. That required 2 additional trips alone!

By this time you are probably wondering why I started this post with the discussion of satellite TV. Well, in an effort to maybe learn a little bit about installing a kitchen faucet, I watched DIY TV for several days, hoping that they would install a faucet for an example for me. However, it being what you may call boring TV, all they did was mention installing a faucet and suddenly it would appear. Somehow I got addicted to Do-It-Yourself TV. I found it relaxing to watch some poor slob destroy a kitchen that looked perfectly wonderful to me, because it was outdated. I watched them install brass back-splashes, sinks that looked like the urinals at the local YMCA and beautiful granite counters. So after about a week or 10 days of watching DIY channel when nothing more interesting was on, last Saturday I went to my friendly TV and low and behold DIY station now costs money to watch. It was SNATCHED out of my regular programming, which by the way costs an arm and a leg! Not believing my eyes, I went to the room that houses our Direct TV, perfectly lovely 42' flatscreen TV and there it was, my DIY station, still for free.

So here's what I think happened. The powers that be at Dish Network tracked my TV watching and discovered that I had a new interest, DIY. Well, they weren't going to miss a chance at getting a little more money out of us, so in order to feed my new habit, they figured I happily toss in a few more chips to watch some fool demolish his back deck with his overweight daughter hindering his every move! Well, they didn't plan on Direct TV coming to my rescue at $29.99 a month.

The fact is, I don't have Direct TV by choice, but when I had it put in, I didn't know I was signing a 2 year contract, so when I moved, Direct TV moved with me like some unwanted distant cousin that you can't seem to shake.

In closing, I've got 4 more months of Direct TV then they're out of here, if you're attempting to install a kitchen faucet DO NOT watch the DIY channel, but you may feel perfectly welcome to contact me and I can give you advice on how to wrap a bandage and stop excessive bleeding. Good night...

First Date in Months...

2011-11-06T20:31:00.000-08:00

I haven't gone on a date for quite some time and this is the reason why. I've pretty much dropped off of the dating services after years of poor results. Oh sure I've met a few people that were of substance, but the vast majority of them were of substance abuse! Most of the people on the sites have been there for many years, expecting the next date to be different, but they never are. I present to you, one more night in the life of the "The Dating Guy".

Without ever joining the site, I have been a member of Chemistry.com for many years. It was a spin off of match.com when I was a member in 2004. I send their solicitation to my spam folder, but occasionally it slips past the guards into my inbox. This particular day, there was notice of a woman named Sheila was interested in meeting me. Sheila had a postage stamp sized photo that did not tell much about her, but she seemed nice enough from her email and offered me her phone number right from the start. She told me her name and I Googled her to discover that she was only divorced last month, although she told me it was 6 months prior. We spoke on the phone for about an hour and she told me that if we were to meet, it has to be before Thursday, because she's having a small minor surgery then and was expecting to be under the weather for a time. She was reluctant to tell me what sort of surgery, but it turned out that she was putting her boobs in the shop for a tune up, plus a tummy tuck. I wished her well and told her I'd be in touch with her after her makeover.

Time passed and eventually I tried calling her, but she didn't take the call. I left her a message asking if she were still alive. She called back the following day and explained that she really was not doing well and that I probably wouldn't understand what it's like to have a doctor cut you open. I told her I had a pretty good idea but everyone deals with surgery differently. As two more weeks passed, all I heard about was how horrible it was to be cut open. Finally I told her I did understand, as in open heart surgery they do precisely that, plus saw your sternum in halve and remove your heart a little. She was still pretty sure that a breast lift was worse, particularly when accompanying a tummy tuck. I said nothing.

I had pretty much written off Sheila as not my type and deleted her from my Blackberry Messenger system. I no sooner do that and I get an email from her inviting me back and a phone call saying she downloaded a new version of Blackberry and accidentally deleted me. I again said nothing. Finally she called me and invited me out on a date. She offered me the option of just remaining friends on the phone which didn't seem to interest me in the least. I caved and said to meet me at Costco for an early evening of free samples but she only laughed. Damn! Okay, how about meeting me at Earl's, my location for meeting woman from the Scottsdale area. She agreed and I drove what turned to be a 25 miles ride from my Glendale location. As I pulled up to the parking lot at Earl's, I noticed their sigh wasn't lit and I attributed that to a bulb problem. As I entered the parking lot it was more than apparent that it was more than a bulb problem, as the parking lot was empty and the windows were boarded up. Another business bit the dust in this economic disaster.

Immediately I called Sheila and she answered I'm the fat lady right behind you. I actually looked through my rear view mirror. She said she was running late and would be about 3 minutes. Fifteen minutes later she pulled up next to me, the only car in the parking lot and rolled down her window. "Where do we go from here", she said? I said, if you want to get into my car, we can look for another place. She asked if I were a serial rapist? I said I was, but had a headache tonight and can I owe her one. She laughed and got in. She suggested Bamboo Club in North Scottsdale and I had been there prior with a date of mine, the one that wouldn't tell me her last name after 3 dates. We arrived and were seated where Sheila insisted on a booth at a certain location. She obviously had been here before and had certain likes and dislikes. After waiting for a bus person to clear off that booth. The first thing she said was that she was awfully warm and did I think it was warm in here? I said I was comfortable. Hey, I was! She called the waiter over and verbally abused him for a while, while he tried to explain when he opens the door, other people complain that it's too cold. She takes a menu and tears a page out of it and begins to fan herself. You know it's difficult to try to pretend you're not with someone when they're the only other person in your booth. I tried to change the subject to other things, but I think she eventually actually brought down the temperature of the entire restaurant by fanning herself so enthusiastically. She mentioned that her stomach was hurting her and pointed out the swelling that made her look about 7 months pregnant. Then she showed me the tube that the doctor installed yesterday to eliminate the swelling and the bag holding the blood. So much for my appetite, huh? I ordered egg rolls, just because the waiter was so insistent about getting something. Sheila agreed to eat a little so we shared an order. When they came, Sheila tasted one and remarked about how awful they were and the next thing I know she's summoning the poor waiter to let him know they were awful. I tried one and she was right, but I said nothing, just didn't eat anymore. We talked for about 2 hours and it's funny how when you're enjoying yourself, time just flies. Well that wasn't the case last night, but every time I started making going home noises, she thought of a new topic to keep us there. Her wealthy father, the $50,000 her ex-husband left her owing on her credit cards, her rotten daughter-in-law. The topics flowed, as did her open wound as she barely made it to a standing position when we were leaving. I helped her to my car and drove her back to hers, where I felt like pushing her out the door, but came to a full stop before getting out to deliver her to her opened door of her SUV. She kissed me on my cheek as I said my goodbye and I didn't wipe it off until I was safely inside my car headed home, on a 25 miles ride. So much, for "The Dating Guy"!

It's Nice to be Back...

2011-10-24T22:03:00.000-07:00

I really haven't written anything in a very long time. I guess the "urge to tell" just didn't happen to me recently, however today it is different. A couple of things happened to bring back the urge.

First, I was planning a trip to Costco today, for 2 reasons. I was out of a lot of things and second, pushing a cart with 105 bottles of water in it (3 cases of 35) is damned good exercise, particularly when it takes me about an hour to do my route around the store. Thank goodness for the ladies that give you free refreshments at the end of each isle. Here lies my problem.

Men are notorious for not following directions properly and refusing to accept help when lost. Women are not given the gift of directions period. Here is an example. I wanted to go to the Costco around Arrowhead Mall. So the first woman that I asked told me it was at 75th Avenue and Union Hills. I didn't want to sound argumentative so even though I KNEW it wasn't on either 75th Avenue OR Union Hills, I just said thanks and figured I'd somehow find it. So when I arrived at said intersection and there was not a Costco to be seen, I really wasn't surprised, but I knew I was in the right neighborhood. After driving around for about 5 miles, I called another woman that lives close by and she told me it was on the street just West of 75th. Avenue. I said then that would be 77th, correct? She affirmed my statement and finished with, "You can see Dillards from there, when you get there." Well, perfect. So when I see Dillard's, I'll be at Costco. Got it. We hung up. I followed her directions to the T, but there was no Costco to be seen.

I'd been to the Costco at 27th Avenue on several occasions and I was really only looking for the Arrowhead Costco because it was closer, but I've already made it much farther by getting pretty lost. So I headed to the Costco at 27th Ave by default. I refer to this Costco as the BAD Costco, because they don't offer some of the items I use on a monthly basis, such as rye bread and Swiss cheese, plus it's not set up like the other Costcos, so I'm kind of lost in there. I did load my 105 bottles of water into my cart first thing, to insure a good work out. Later, I will visit a friendlier Costco to pick up those badly needed items.

The very worst dating service known to mankind is Chemistry.com! No, I never joined this service, it appeared on my computer some time in 2004 when I was a member of Match.com and was a free perk, as it was just being launched in this lucrative dating market. It, to my knowledge, is owned and a spin off of Match.com. At some point over the years since becoming a member, I checked to see when my membership would expire and it said the year 2050. Unfortunately, I will expire much before that! Here's the deal. Since the year 2004, this misdirected website has been sending matches. People, mostly women that they feel I may be attracted to. What I asked for has really nothing to do with my matches. I asked for women between the ages of 50 and 63, within 50 miles of me, that have posted pictures. Not a lot to ask for. Quite reasonable, I thought. What I get are women who have no picture posted that live in Tucson, Flagstaff, Prescott, Cottonwood and Sedona, along with a few from Phoenix. Today was the last straw. Today they sent me Robert. A firefighter who is 6' 1" tall and of average weight looking for a mate that is from 5' 5" to 5' 8" and an average to curvy figure. Do you suppose they actually sent me a man??? Around 3 years ago, I started sending Chemistry.com to my spam folder and occasionally look at it there. After receiving Robert, I think that's where it will remain!

A few days ago, I spoke on the phone with a woman named Tanami. From her picture, she looked to be European. She had made me a favorite on the website and wrote to me to let me know that she found me interesting. I can't imagine what would be interesting about me, but she didn't know better, poor thing. She offered me her phone number and so what the hell, I called. We spoke for an hour and 47 minutes. She spoke for an hour and 46 minutes, me about one! Here is what I learned. Let's face it, you have to learn something being quiet for that long. I learned that she was born Bonnie Lee Manheim, a Jewish girl, but married a Middle Eastern man and moved to Jordan where she took up the Muslim religion and was beaten and abused for 21 years when she abandoned her husband and 4 children to come back to America and become a teacher. On her profile she listed that she was a teacher, but at this point she was a full time student. She then married another Middle Eastern man who similarly beat and abused her, but not for nearly as long. She divorced him and is currently hiding in Phoenix, Arizona from him. Being the shy non-aggressive type, I decided not to take a turn and deleted her number.

Another Home Depot Disaster

2011-09-28T21:54:00.000-07:00

Since I've lived at my current residence, the bathroom fan has been inoperable. Unless you call a humming noise emitted from it until it smells like it's burning, operating. With more ambition than ability, I headed to the "Depot" (that's what we regulars refer to it as). I had two items in mind. A red flapper for the bottom of the toilet and a replacement fan.

First, I asked an employee that was carrying a record breaking pot belly around, as he was pricing some mundane item. His orange shirt alerted me to his presence. Without looking up he blurted out isle 23 in plumbing. I headed over and found that the one that I brought in with me, the broken one, was out of date and was not going to be easy to replace. A little guy about 30 made the mistake of greeting me as he walked by, so I asked him about my fan replacement. Now is it just me, or does every Home Depot employee know everything in the world about repairing anything you need repaired. They just act so matter-of-factly about it, like they just completed the same job this morning. And I ALWAYS fall for it. This little guy, about 5' 6" said, "We don't carry that particular model anymore, but between you and me, just buy the cheapest one and remove the motor, they're all the same. Then he actually takes out the fan and shows me. I fall for the Home Depot trick and buy it, along with a toilet flapper, that he also knew exactly where it was, since he had just replaced his this morning too.

I proudly walk into the house, "Mission Accomplished" and in a record breaking amount of time. I change into my work clothes, which means I took off my shirt and began the job of removing the motor from one fan to install it on the old frame. After removing anything that looked like it could be removed, I suddenly realized it was not going to be possible to remove it completely from the housing bracket, because the fan portion was on the other side of the bracket and it was not removable!

Suddenly my mind went whirling back to the time that I needed a toilet top tank and a Home Depot employee told me that I can buy a universal top tank that fits all commodes. That was just NOT TRUE! This little short guy must have been his cousin! It's a Home Depot conspiracy!

When I realized my $15 new fan was never going to work, I went into the laundry room and cannibalized the fan in there, that fit the bathroom perfectly. Whoever uses a laundry room fan anyway!

The thing that bothers me the most is, I told the short kid how helpful he was.

Puppy News

2011-09-25T20:03:00.000-07:00

I was awakened this morning from an unfamiliar crash. The crash was this 15 LB box of dog cookies from Costco going crashing to the ground, off the table that it was previously resting upon. The table just next to the mess. There in the middle of 500 cookies was Macy, laying on her back with as many cookies in her mouth as would feasibly fit. One look at me and she cam running over, proud of her accomplishment, even though I was giving her the old "Bad Dog" shame we all know. I was literally laughing my ass off, as Macy leaped up on the pool table to discuss this with me face to face. Did you know that 500 dog cookies will not fit in the same exact box they originally came in, once casually removed?

LJ bought Macy one of those fancy apparatuses instead of a collar. It wraps around her front legs and snaps around behind her. It's a harness for walking your dog, but I've always been of the belief that it allows the dog much more power in pulling, as if she has here entire body to pull with instead of just her neck. Every time LJ takes out the harness, Macy gets all excited. Even more excited than when she would go for a walk with just the collar. I just found out that LJ told Macy that it was really a training bra!

Homophobia

2011-08-25T20:13:00.000-07:00

In my younger years, I was what you'd probably refer to as a little on the wild side. I did what I wanted to and didn't necessarily abide by laws and rules. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't dishonest but did have a full selection of fake ID's from the age of 17 forward. At late 17, already done with school, I found myself running around with a bunch that frequented the Rush Street area of Chicago, along with an area known as Old Town.

I'd drive my 65 Pontiac convertible down to the area and park wherever I could. Often times, I'd be alone and would walk as far as a mile to get to the mentioned areas. One particular evening, it was slow and not much was going on. I'd tried my haunts, Whiskey- A-Go-Go, and some other joints whose names have escaped me and it was early yet time to leave and head north to home. As I walked through a questionable neighborhood, I noticed that a man was walking right behind me and pretty much keeping pace with me. I picked up my pace, only for the follower to do the same. I wasn't really scared yet, but a sixth sense told me something was amiss. Keep in mind, I'm at almost a run now and not gaining on the stranger.

Stranger: Hi!

Me: Silence.

Stranger: Slow down a minute.

Me: Silence.

Stranger: What's your rush, I just want to talk a while.

Me: Silence at full speed!

Eventually the stranger stopped, yelled something insulting and went away. My heart was beating at a rate that was clearly off the charts and that's when I realized I was homophobic. Not with all gay folks, but certainly with the ones that have ME on their menu! That was 48 years ago and I remember it like it was recently.

Later, my younger brother confided to me that he was indeed gay. I laughed at him and asked why he thinks he's gay, after all he'd had several girlfriends (beards) in the past. He told me he thought he was gay, because he sleeps and has sex with men. I'm not sure how long the lapse of conversation was after that announcement, but it was lengthy. I did what any close, concerned brother would do. I ignored him for 15 years. Yep, it scared me.

At my mother's funeral we reunited and I learned that he was a nice person with a wonderful sense of humor and a rather high IQ. He taught the deaf sign language in his spare time and decided to turn his pudgy body into a body builder's physique. When we reunited, it was 1987 and he was a strapping 6' 3" and had muscles that made me envious, a shaved head, mustache and goatee and a powerful presence. I realized that his sexual orientation did not make the person and was merely a phase about him. I liked him, but it was short lived, as he had contracted HIV and it had developed into full blown AIDS. He passed away in 1989. I went to Chicago to visit him 2 weeks before he passed away and he was truly suffering. At that point, I believed my homophobia was behind me. I knew of some gay people and didn't shun them because of it. I believe in Gay marriage.

Last night, I was browsing through the local dating service, because I find as I get older, it's harder to find a mate. I was writing to a very pleasant woman that I have no interest whatsoever in meeting, when I get notice that TX Mustang has made me a "Favorite". How sweet, I thought. I continued that email I was composing when suddenly there was notice that TX Mustang wants to "CHAT" with me. Well, I'm really not a fan of the instant message or "CHAT" feature, but it also gave me the option to view the picture and profile of little TX Mustang. I clicked on it and below is what I saw!

Meet TXMustang, a burly 52 year old MAN that brought back my homophobia! I slammed the computer and ran for my room to hide under the bed. That really the only place you can hide from those guys, you know!

SpEeD FrEaK!

2011-08-17T22:04:00.000-07:00

Today was a day not too unusual from many other days, except I received an Iron infusion yesterday and slept from midnight until 11 AM without interruption. That kind of scared me because I was due for another infusion today. I've never had Iron infusion, two days in a row and knowing the damage that one day does to my system created a little apprehension. I had to drive to the other side of town, because that's where Becky was working today and in order to get my Iron infused at the proper intervals, a little drive was required. It was a beautiful day here in the Valley of the Sun and the Mercury was hanging around 113 when I got to the car. Don't worry, as I reached my destination the car was almost cooled down.

I arrived about 2 minutes early and had to wait the customary 3/4 hour, before I was called in. The infusion took about 10 minutes and just to add insult to injury, there is a new alleged FDA law that requires them to keep you sitting there for 30 minutes AFTER your appointment to have your blood pressure taken to make sure it hasn't spiked. It took me back to my high school days where I had to sit for an undisclosed period of time in detention hall, with all the other rowdies. She came out, took my B.P. and it was noticeably low at 134/47. I was good to go and did. My car read 119 as I hit the starter and I took off. I pulled into the left hand turning lane and was about 5 cars back. A few seconds later the pickup in front of me crept up and it turned out there was no one in front of "her". That's just how she handles left turn lanes. When the arrow lit up and it was our turn to go, but she just sat there, no doubt not noticing the arrow. I tried to honk once and nothing happened. On the second attempt, the horn worked, but the driver in from of me just looked in her rear view mirror to see who was honking. By now the left turn arrow was gone and we'd missed our turn. I accepted that and waited patiently, what other choice did I have since I'd left my automatic weapons at home? Finally when the light turned yellow, she crept out into the intersection and completed her turn. NOTE TO SELF: Never leave home without a gun or heat seeking missile!

I got on the 101 West and started my ride home. I was going along fine when I reached the I-17 connection and a dark gray pickup truck moved over to the left lane and was going about 10 MPH slower than me. There was no reason for the truck to move over in front of me, as the third lane was completely clear. Frustrated, I casually pulled over to the third lane, using my turn signal and attempted to pass the dark gray truck. To accomplish this, I used my passing gear. Hey, I was PASSING! Just as I did this, I passed a DPS officer hiding behind a 55 gallon drum on the side of the road. He sure looked excited as he started his motorcycle and took chase after me. He commenced upon me in no time flat and I'll bet anything he was whistling the sound track to COPS, as he did this. He got right on my tail and stayed there. By the way, when I passed DPS guy, I looked down at my speedometer and it read 70, so it's not like I was insanely tearing up the road. Next, not knowing what to do, I pulled over a lane, using my signal just like I learned in class. He stayed right on my tail and I think that's when I realized it was a bad sign.

As we approached the 51st Ave. exit his siren and lights went on and he signaled me to exit. I complied, after all, he had a gun! He now signaled me to make the right turn and pull over. Again I complied. He pulled up behind me and that's when I lost him. He had sneaked over to the passenger side of the car and made the International sign to roll down the window, you know it. He then introduced himself and also identified himself, as well. Yep, I was right, cop! He asked me for my license and registration and proof of insurance. I had a license and proof of insurance, but I explained that my registration was on the back of my plate. He said, take it off! These are connected with 4 octagonal metric size 10 caps. I asked if he had a pliers and the answer was no. I also know that the registration on the back of that plate was from around 2001 and when I renewed my plates this year, I did it online and it said my registration was ready to print, but my printer wouldn't work and I didn't think any part of that story was going to endear me to the DPS dude.

By the way, this guy was no taller than 5' 4", with a shaved head and a bullet proof vest. In reality he was 5' 6" but I was mad, so I made him shorter. "Literary License", that means the author can lie!

Okay, did you know that cops don't "write" tickets anymore? They have a computer and they type in the info and then it prints out the ticket. Now, I've already told you how freakin hot it was and we're standing in the sun, me unscrewing my license plate with my bare hands and him waiting impatiently. Here's the part where God stepped in. I actually was successful at removing my plate and on the back of the plate, there was my registration from about 10 years ago, which should have gotten me an additional ticket, but the sun had bleached off ALL of the type, except for the form lettering itself. He then gave me a stern warning to get it replaced as soon as possible. I asked him if he knew how to do that, since our DMV is out of money and had closed just about all the locations and certainly the Dealer Section is obsolete. He did not. He handed me back my plate and I spent the rest of the time screwing it back onto the car, while perspiration dripped in my eyes. I mention to the DPS dude that it was about 113 when I last checked. He looked up to the sky, where the guy who erased my registration for me lives and said, "Hmm..... seems about right". I mentioned that I've been in AZ. for 37 years and it seems to get hotter every year. That's when we bonded and he said he'd been here since 95, but worked out in Yuma. (Must have been a guard at the prison).

Well, it was parting time for this pair. I had signed receipt of my ticket and asked if he knew how much it was going to cost me and he said, no. I wanted to be polite with my new friend and I knew that thanking him for his time might not seem sincere, so instead I said, "Well, see ya next time"! Shit, wrong thing to say. That prompted mini-cop to say you'd better not see me again. Unless you see me on the side of the road and wave me a safe day. I smiled and said, "Yeah, that's what I meant" and got into my race car.

I always worry about leaving after getting a ticket. I worry that cop will follow me and give another one for no turn signal or illegal U-turn. But that doesn't happen, does it??? You know, he might have been 5' 2"!

My First Carefree Mini Pad...

2011-08-09T09:18:00.000-07:00

If you've been following the antics of this adorable puppy Macy, the innocent puppy from HELL. You'll probably be interested in Chapters 3 and 4 written within.

Chapter 3 was a week ago or so and it found me standing at the kitchen counter making a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich . When one is doing so, you are pretty wrapped up in your creation and probably wouldn't be noticing a 65 LB puppy sneaking up behind you at about 9 PM in the evening. Well, Macy was that puppy and just to be close to her friend and owner, took up a position curled up in a ball behind me. (here it comes) When I took my first step backwards, my foot came right down on her and she yelped as if she were being butchered. So in defense, I start hopping with the Swiss cheese still in my hand and the next time my right foot comes down, it is upon Macy's little foot. In reflex, I continue hopping on my left foot and when I finally come down, it's on my poor ass from a distance about 10 or 12 feet away from where all of this started, with the Swiss cheese still in my hand! Now Macy, thinking I'm playing, is on top of me and her goal is the cheese. I give her the cheese, only to divert her attention, so I can see if I broke a hip and if standing is an option.

That's been about a week now since that happened and for the past week, I've been limping quietly around the house with an ass that's twice as large on one side, as the other. It still hurts like hell, but someone told me, if you can walk, it's not broken. As much as I hate doctors, I'll accept that diagnoses.

Chapter 4: Getting back to my mini pad. Fast forward about a week now and picture me just sitting on my reclining chair, something that I'm pretty much mastered. Here comes Macy to keep me company and steal a few pets. I stroke and pet her for about 3 or 4 minutes and then when I feel I've done that enough for one sitting, I stop and put my hand at my side. It's Macy's way to let me know she's not quite content with the 3 or 4 minutes of petting and that she wants more, by taking her paw, with now razor sharp claws and strike it an my resting arm, Slicing off a strip of skin in two places.

Because I take Aspirin everyday as a blood thinner, my blood will not coagulate like a normal person's and several hours later, at 10 PM I wanted to go to bed to read. Knowing I'm down to my last set of sheets and knowing that I've already gotten blood onto my white bed spread from an earlier assault of Macy's, I looked for some kind of a bandage or band aid.

Not knowing where such a thing might be in Julie's house, I inquired. She directed me to a first aid kit that only had a few of those little tiny band aids that you put on shaving nicks. Useless, because I'm kind of flowing here. Maybe it was the word "flowing" that gave me the idea, but next I asked if she had any of those Kotex pads or pantie liners. It was yes to the pantie liners and there you have my solution. I had her put Scotch tape around my arm and I was good to go until this morning when I ripped it off and it started bleeding much worse than last night. What do people with Hemophilia do? I just hope this doesn't happen again in 28 days!

August Snow...

2011-08-06T11:46:00.000-07:00

Snow Dog

Having been acquainted with Great Danes for about 35 years, I thought I'd experienced every physical insult available to mankind. Once in the middle of the night, I was fast asleep and was awakened to the feeling of something wet running down my arm. It turned out to be my own blood running freely. My little female wanted my attention because she was having a hard time getting to sleep, so she walked over to my side of the bed and clawed innocently at my arm that was hanging down in the dark, tearing it open for about 3 inches. That's to be expected if you have dogs the size of farm beasts. Bogie, my boy was about 300 LBS in his prime and Zoie a lithe 120.

Enter Macy, a $93 pound dog. Was supposed to be a mix between a Doberman and a Shepard, but she's too small for a Doberman and too small a head for a Shepard. In fact her head is a little too small for her body, which has caused me some concern. She kind of has the head of a Dachshund, really! We laugh about it, but it's really of no concern, she won't be embarrassing us anytime soon with puppies, she's spayed.

Each dog had a talent of their own. Bogie was the best catcher I'd ever seen. He could grab anything out of the air without a moments notice. Once he grabbed a baby bird that flew too close to Bogie and swallowed it right out of the air. Zoie was grace personified. She ran like a gazelle and could jump like a deer, with perfect conformation. Macy has the ability to change the season. Yes, you read that right. She changes the season. As you probably know, we're having a heat wave here in the valley of the sun and it's been unseasonably hot around these here parts, similar to other parts of the country. Macy realizing that, has changed the season to winter in the Alps. Above is a photo taken just after one of her miracles. Notice how small her head is? Below is a likeness taken after her miraculous transformations of season. She gives you August Snow!

Mean Girl at the Dog Park...

2011-07-24T10:24:00.000-07:00

It was about 8 PM and the sun had finally gone down and I thought it might be a little cooler outside, but no. It was still a blistering 101 at that hour, typical of our monsoon evenings without a storm. Add to that the humidity that you Easterners think we don't have and it was pretty unpleasant, but try explaining that to a 1 year old pup. Macy was leaping around like a maniac at the mere thought of running with her friends. It's what she lives for!

She leaped into the convertible from about 5 feet away and immediately hopped into the back seat, where she is assigned, looked at me and waiting impatiently for me to start the car. Yeah, she knew where we were going. It's only a short drive to the park, about 2 miles and we were there in no time. Macy doesn't even wait for me to get out of the car, but rather leaps over me. It's all I have to do, to hold on to her once we're there. When I release her, she flies off into the horizon like a dove flying off to freedom. She hits zero to forty in a 8.2 seconds and runs to the first dog she sees and slams on the breaks to exchange kisses. It's really quite cute.

Probably because of the heat, there were not a lot of dogs there, plus it was a Saturday night and some normal people have better things to do. Macy was content to play with whoever was present and doesn't mind going off by herself to sniff the various odors left behind. I was sitting by myself, on a bench on the West side of the park and there weren't many dogs around my area. Thinking that if I relocated across the park, Macy would follow and have a greater number of playmates. I sat down on a bench about 15 feet away from a teenage girl that was texting. She had two very large Chihuahuas, large and extremely overweight. They were friendly though and Macy befriended them and when they came over to say hello to me, I pet them. The three played rather nicely together in spite of the little fat dog's ages, which was quite advanced. That's when the mean girl became the mean girl!

She put down water for her dogs and kept shooing Macy away, so poor Macy couldn't drink. That's when she lifted the bowl of water over Macy's head and explained to her that if there's any left after her dogs drank, then poor little Macy could have it. It turned out that her dogs didn't want any water and she put it down for Macy, who took one sip and walked away. It was then that the mean girl pour out the water, as if it was contaminated!

Okay, in my mind.............. I walked over to the girl, took my right hand and put it to my left shoulder and "Bitch-Slapped" the mean girl! Then reality set back in and I went over and got Macy and announced going home time. I "seethed" all the way to the car!

Ah Sirina...

2011-07-19T20:30:00.000-07:00

A strange thing happened at the old dating service this week. For one thing, I suddenly became very popular and everyone I drop a line to responds. In addition, I'm being contacted by a myriad of women, something that seldom happens.

The lady that is pictured above, I saw and was instantly taken by her. I wrote her a brief email that said, "You may be too adorable for this website, so I'll check with the management and get back to you". This prompted an immediate reply of length, that said she wanted to get to know me better, but to do that we should chat at Yahoo, who has an instant messaging system. I replied that I already have so many email addresses, that if I were to open a new one, Gmail might think I was two-timing it! I offered her an invitation to open an account at Gmail, as they offer the same features. To my surprise, she agreed and opened an account.

At this time let me interject something. I wasn't born yesterday and also own a mirror. I'm aware that a woman of this age and beauty really has no business flirting with a 65 year old man. She looked way younger, but claimed to be 50, but still I had my doubts. Last night the following dialogue took place between Sirina and myself. Be sure to observe the time frame between replies from Sirina and her spelling and choice of words. Her last name is Issah, which is Middle Eastern

7:26 PM sirina.issah: hello there

33 minutes

7:59 PM me: Didn't you get the email that said I'd meet you here tonight at 8 PM?

8:00 PM Look, it's 8!

sirina.issah: Sorry no i did not

8:01 PM me: t Yahoo

I sent it a couple of days ago at Yahoo/

sirina.issah: well did not check my email yet

me: Anyway, hello there!

8:02 PM Are you there?

sirina.issah: Hello how are you doing

8:03 PM me: GREAT!

And you?

Are you busy?

8:04 PM sirina.issah: Am fine thank you we keep missing each other on here have been here through of the night last time waiting to talk to you but you where not here

8:05 PM me: Sorry, I was waiting for our date at * tonight.

I thought you had gotten my email.

Thanks for opening a Gmail account. Isn't this great?

8:06 PM We seem to have 2 conversations going.

8:07 PM We seem to have 2 separate conversations going.

sirina.issah: Ohh yes and think that will be really nice.. am really happy meeting you on here now i think with this we can chat and get to know each other more better

me: Are you from Chicago?

8:09 PM If you are busy we can talk later?

8:11 PM sirina.issah: Is a friend who put me on the site am very new to the site and dont really know anything about it she even did some mistakes which i need to correct them my self but i try all i can but still did not work out for me,, that makes ma very sad and worried My age is 35 and not 50 nand also i live in West africa and not Az i have nothing to hide from you or anyone so think i will let you know this from the beging if you will like as to be friends fine if not we can say Good Bye to each other....

8:12 PM me: Good luck!

Her replies were a full 2 minutes after my questions. I immediately pictures a guy named Achmed sitting there typing with a cigar in his mouth and trying to translate what I am saying from his native language of Arabic. As you could see, my only reply was "Good luck" and I quickly cancelled the chat and deleted her email address. I went to the website where I found her and the management had already cancelled her account. It was as if Sirina never existed, heh, she probably never did!

Christmas in July...

2011-07-13T20:13:00.000-07:00

For all intents and purposes, the adorable puppy that we brought home from the Humane Society last month, will from this point forward be referred to as "That Rogue Dog"! Here's what happened...

On more than one occasion, Rogue Dog has terrorized, abominated and otherwise destroyed every stuffed animal that the Lovely Jules had purchased for her or currently owned. She first rips off their faces and then whips them around the room in a mighty fight that she always wins. After, the room resembles the North Pole right before Santa takes off on his run. All white and fresh and clean with crystal clear snow. Our snow is really the efforts of migrant workers picking cotton. Tons of cotton is splayed around the room for Rogue Dog's personal pleasure.

Rogue Dog also has Houdini capabilities as outlined earlier, therefore she is capable of entering locked rooms that would otherwise be off limits to her, such as my bedroom pictured above. It's not a wonderful bedroom, it's rather small and I had the nerve to stuff a king sized bedroom set in there to add to the confusion. Therefore, the room consists mostly of bedroom set and a clothes horse for tossing used clothing, that's not quite ready for the laundry yet. Got all that?

In 1996 I married a woman that it seems that all she wanted from me was a Ralph Lauren King sized flowered bed set of sheets, complete with dust ruffle and shams. For the mere cost of $500 we could be the proud owners of these beauties. Well, the first time I realized she was serious, I kind of blew it off with, "Look, isn't that your sister walking in the mall?" She ran off to see and we exited the department store that had the nerve to ask that much money for frinkin sheets! I let go of a big WHEW and we continued our shopping.

One day at the outlet mall between Phoenix and Tucson, we stopped and wouldn't you know it, the department store had an outlet store there too. How lucky, right? There were the same sheets that she fell in love with for only $350 or something. Naturally, we couldn't pass up such a bargain. Old whats-her-name, was really happy now! To say that I always HATED those sheets was an understatement. They were poorly fit to the bed, loud, obnoxious, and had these hideous ruffles at the end of each edge and you got them caught in your mouth when you snored.

Well, the wife is long gone and all that remains are those stinking sheets. I should have used them to wrap fish in, years ago, but didn't and every time I look in the linen closet, those are the only ones available to use. Well, no more. Getting back to the Rogue Dog....

Rogue Dog has discovered the easy way, that the inside of my pillows has the same cotton that her toys have and she has single handedly attacked and defeated three of the four pillows, pillow cases going first. God bless her, she did what I've wanted to do since day one!

The bed is one of the Sleep Comfort Numbers beds and I have no complaints there, but the picture showcases the poorly fitting sheets and one lonely pillow slip. Next step for the sheets, GARBAGE CAN!

Androgynous Hermaphrodite..

2011-07-10T04:10:00.000-07:00

A trip to the dog park this evening produces a great deal of pleasure and some obvious confusion. I'd never been there before and LJ introduced me to it. It's at 57th Avenue, south of Utopia, just past the library, got that? It separated into 3 different fenced in parks for little dogs, big dogs and not so friendly dogs. We fit into the big dog section, where frankly I feel more comfortable. Macy had been there with Jules several times before and had already acquired quite a following. She sort of runs with the pack now. She knows Lacy, one of her girlfriends from the Humane Society, a cell mate there, if you will? A new friend is a little Cocker Spaniel named freckles, and an Irish Setter that never did mention his name.

About 15 minutes into our visit, a stranger came into the park with his male yellow Lab. It was the dog's owner that caught my inquisitive eye. Many years ago, on Saturday Night Live, there was a skit about Chris, an androgynous individual that appeared to be sexless, or should I say genderless? At first from her walk, I thought she was a woman. He/she was tall but lacked the bumps on his/her chest that would set her/him apart from a man. The hair style was no indicator, it was short as a man or a woman might wear it? "IT" wore his/her shorts a little too high for any man to wear them comfortably, yet some geeks might try it that way? The fanny pack that I pointed out to LJ, could have gone either way? He/she let his/her dog loose and he/she immediately picked up the public pooper scooper and cleaned up every one's mess. Still watching out of the corner of my eye, I was weighing the possibilities to LJ who swiftly told me to forget about her/him. But I couldn't!

His/her dog, a yellow Lab as mentioned, was quite a friendly fellow and came over and just about jumped up on my lap. I pet him with a big smile on my face. Just then, Macy came over to see who was somewhat mauling her semi-owner and the fellow took particular notice of cute little Macy, gave her a quick sniff and attempted to mount her without the advantage of flowers or even a dinner! How rude! LJ quick to protect her little angel, pulled the rather stout fellow off of her and we sent this would be lover on his way.

Now I told you all of that, so I could tell you this. Just about that time, the owner of the yellow Lab, came over, flashed his/her leash at his dog and said the following statement to his dog, "COME ON, GIRL" and they both exited the park! Jules and I both looked at each other and shook our heads simultaneously. We'll never know now...

Vandals Strike in Beautiful Glendale, Thousands Lost!

2011-07-05T18:45:00.000-07:00

When Dr. Harvey told me to do a 24 hour urine collection, I had no idea it was to all come from me! Some of the neighbors got outright unpleasant when I rang their bells to ask for a donation. It's not like their kids don't ring this bell all the time for collections for their schools. Oh well. I finally completed the 24 hour collection and turned in the results today. The nurse at Lab-Corp. said to wait there while she puts my collection in the refrigerator and I told her that was the second time I'd gotten rid of the stuff, do whatever she wants with it. I waited about 30 minutes for them to call my name and withdraw 14 viles of needed blood from my arm. As I counted them, I was expecting the next vile to only produce dust, but I didn't disappoint them. I checked more than once to see of the girl drawing my blood had extended K-9's but she didn't. I felt it would add to the story line.

Earlier in the day, LJ came home from running errands and told me that my car had a flat tire. I asked which one, as I was outside last night with the dog and didn't notice anything looking out of place. She said it was a rear tire. I made every effort to put the air back into the deflated tire in hopes of getting it filled to drive it to Discount Tire for the repair, but no luck. It wouldn't take any air. I decided it was a bad valve stem of at least the seal had been broken from sitting too long in the sun. I jacked up the car and removed the tire and borrow LJ's truck to haul it to get it repaired. I dropped it off and left my phone number to call when it was ready and I continued to the lab.

While getting my 14 viles of blood removed from my arm, my phone rang, but I didn't recognize the number so didn't answer at such an inopportune time. I called my voicemail to see what the message was and it said to call Discount Tire, there is a problem and they want to know what to do to proceed. Hmmm.......

When I called, I got someone named John to tell me that my tire had been stabbed and it needed to be replaced, not repaired. Shit, I HATE when that happens! These are expensive tires too and I have to replace it with the same type, obviously. I told him to go ahead and do the best he can at matching the others and hung up. When I got there, the tired was ready for me and the bill was not as much as I'd expected. I took the tire home and installed it onto the car and went into the house for a cold drink.

Still not believing that someone would do something like that in this neighborhood, which is a clean suburban atmosphere, on the golf course no less. As I sat back, LJ came in to ask if I was all finished and I told her yes, and that if I had a knife and wanted to do some vandalism, I would slash the top on a convertible, not stab the tire. As I said that, a light bulb actually lit over my head and I thought, "I wonder" and headed back out.

The top is black and difficult to see any variance in shape indicating a cut, but sure as hell, there were 4 stabs, about 2 inches long each along the driver's side from front to back. That took my loss from a little over a hundred to well over a thousand. Woe is me! Ain't the Fourth of July grand?

Houdini, Alive and Well...

2011-06-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

Last night was a long one. It started out as any other night, but soon became a long drawn out nightmare. Macy, the innocent beloved puppy, has taken to sleeping in Julie's room. It's more spacious and Julie seems to sleep on a schedule similar to Macy, going to bed kind of early and rising around 6 AM. Me, I read until all hours and sleep in most days, so sleeping with Macy is really an inconvenience because she climbs on top of me when she awakens for affection and to let me know she has to go out. I stumble to the door, stubbing toes on the way and let her out, hopefully before she starts her early morning barking routine and waking the neighbors.

Last night, after Macy beginning her night in LJ's room, got cast out. I heard barking, then 3 loud high pitched yelps, then nothing. About 30 seconds later, I found Macy scratching at my bedroom door. I opened it and she thought it was time to play, although the clock said something about 1:30 AM. I had just turned off the light and dozed off. She came inside and was pleased as punch to see me and began jumping all over me. I finally got her settled down and she wanted out, but she had nowhere to go. She had already burned her last bridge. She finally got quiet after some severe yelling of, "Go lay down" and some aggressive NO's! About 5 AM she got me up to let her out. When doing so, I passed her new crate laying on the living room floor and noticed that the entire front of the crate was missing! It was laying down inside the crate itself.

Evidently LJ, in desperation, put little Macy into the crate and evidently Macy had taken some classes in engineering and it was mere child's play for her to figure out how to escape. In the picture that you view at the top of this post shows some pieces of wire hanger that I rigged, in order to keep Macy from collapsing the cage and escaping in 3 seconds flat! Who ever dreamed that I'd spend time trying to outsmart a puppy and lose?

The Old Menagerie...

2011-06-22T11:43:00.000-07:00

When something works it's way into your memory, for some unknown reason, only the good parts exist. We tend to forget the bad. We call it human nature. So when Paul called me last week and told me it was time to put his investment back to work for him and that my inactive business being there is costing him money, I offered to close it down entirely and toss out the old Airport Enterprises sign for good.

No he replied, that's not what I have in mind. Why not go back to work and try to make a go of business again? Well, Oprah did retired leaving a big gap in my afternoon... Hmm.... I wonder if I could pull it off again? So began the idea of going back to work. Last Thursday I attended an auto auction and gained knowledge of the current market trends and values. I made some phone calls and actually bought a truck to resell. By the way, if you run into a guy named #25 running around, tell him I've got his truck!

Yesterday, now that LJ is home from travelling around the countryside, I felt confident that it would be okay to drive my truck down to Paul, my mechanic to get a few things done to it. This is where my story begins.

Paul is sort of a character on his own. He portrays himself to be the silent strong type, due to his size. He's about 6' 4" and rather muscular. About 45 years old, without a hair on his shaved head. The only picture I have of him, shows him covered in grease from working on cars. Paul is the victim of every con artist that ever climbed out of his car. He doesn't seem to have that built-in feature in his brain that says, "Hey, wait a minute"! So Paul continues to be the victim of everyone that comes along that wants a piece of him and he already owns 2 time shares!

Enter Steve. Steve was hanging around about 10 years ago, and made Paul promises that he could make Paul a lot of money if he just gave him a try. Steve claimed to be a mechanic and was also going to be Paul's manager. Steve lasted about 4 months and one day just disappeared. I was pleased, since I spotted Steve as a bullshitter from the start. Well, guess what? Steve is back and is going to head up Paul's new body and paint division. It seems that Steve is tired of working for other people and is going to make him and Paul both rich. When I first spotted Steve, he looked familiar, but he had gained about 30 LBS and turned completely gray and went from 38 to an unkind 48. It was almost as if he'd never left. I was invited into what used to be my office and I said, "oh, there's my old desk and computer". Steve replied that they're his now and the computer is going into the trash, it's junk. Well, I don't have to tell you how I felt. It was almost like he's never left.

I decided not to stay for lunch. I had intended to have lunch with Paul and find out what he was expecting from my going back to work and to leave the truck with him to sell. The lunch turned out to be a figment of my imagination, even though I had called ahead and planned this. Ready to go to lunch were Paul, me, Steve, his 17 year old son that was only a head of hair, from what I could see, Paul's brother Steve was coming down. Steve, Paul's brother is a convicted felon that did his 20 plus years in prison for murder one. Now he is a worthless drug addict that lives off the fat of the land which means Paul and his mother. Paul's mother was also to be in attendance, but she was asleep in the second trailer. Paul's mother acts like she's my date every time I see her, which was once about 15 years ago. She's NOT!

I told Paul, there's no reason to awaken sleeping beauty and we can just have lunch another time. I left. I wanted to call Paul back and tell him to throw Steve the con man out on his ass, but I minded my own business. Paul will find out soon enough. Similar to Superman, I try not to change history!

Houdini Dog...

2011-06-21T10:49:00.000-07:00

I never really watched a lot of kids movies when I was a kid. I was more of an outdoorsy type, more interested in sports and friends and staying active, so sitting in front of a TV watching Lassie was not a priority. So begins the saga of the Houdini Dog.

If you read the last post, you realized that Julie and I searched the lands high and low for the perfect dog and came home with Macy, the Doberman/Shepard mix. She's 10 months old and pretty much house trained with the exception of an occasional yellow stain that appears on the carpeting. When it came time for her to be alone, Julie and I discussed it and she was for giving her the run of the house and letting her get used to it. In my eternal wisdom, my theory was that by locking her in Julies/Macy's room where Macy sleeps cuts down the area of destruction from 8 rooms to simply one. Good reasoning, right?

So in preparation, I brought all of Macy's toys into the single bedroom, gave her plenty of water and even brought in her uneaten breakfast, in case she got a little hungry. Now the room has double doors. One is secured in place and the second one swings freely. The two doors, when asked to, open into the room. In other words, when you're standing inside the room, you have to pull the doors towards you to open them. Knowing that Macy was not afforded an opposing thumb, I felt that she would have a hard time exiting that room without the intervention of at least an ape. Then, I went to the junk drawer and looked for something to secure the two handles to each other, just in case the circus was in town and an ape escaped. I found one of those big, thick rubber bands, the kind you pull off of Broccoli clumps, from the grocery. I gave her a couple of cookies as a peace offering and went about my business, which was to pick up a truck that I had bought. I anticipated being gone about 90 minutes and was.

Fast forward 90 minutes and with my new truck parked in the driveway, I entered through the front door and to my surprise and dismay, there was Macy as proud of herself as could be. She jumped up on me and wagged her tail like there was a parade in front of our house. Time for an investigation.

While walking back to LJ's room, I thought could someone have broken into the house and let little Macy out? OR, was this a Houdini Dog? There on the floor was the thick rubber band snapped in two. Hmm.... and there under her door was a throw rug that Macy had literally ripped to shreds. Upon further investigation, I found that this throw rug was connected to the carpeting that was in LJ's room. In fact this WAS the carpeting that used to be in LJ's Room! Macy had single-handedly unraveled the Berber carpeting. There, long 8 foot strips of it fanned out across the room and I'm not a re-weaver. Holy crap! This is the puppy from HELL!!!!!!!!

A friend suggested I go to Costco and buy one of those big pictures and place it over the holey carpeting and she'd never know, but I felt that might be the wrong approach. Now, here was my dilemma. Do I tell LJ and chance ruining her vacation or just let it play out? I let it play out. LJ called and texted and wanted to know how her little puppy was and didn't even hint at a problem until day 5 when LJ was coming home. Now was the time! In a brief conversation, the topic of Macy came up and I threw it into the end of a sentence. Like, everything went pretty well with the pup with the exception of a little carpet trouble. I was hoping that might go right over LJ's head, but no, she caught it immediately. Carpet trouble, what kind, she retorted? I said, "Oh, when I had to leave on Friday to go pick up my truck, she ripped a little carpet". Oh, that's nothing, that carpeting needs to ripped out anyway, answered LJ. I said, good because Macy gave it a head start! That was the end of the conversation. WHEW!!!!!

Macy is MY Puppy...

2011-06-05T21:08:00.000-07:00

As you can see from the above picture, I'm on love. Introducing Spacy Macy, the goofiest 10 month old puppy in captivity. Wait till you meet her. It was love at first sight. Here's how it happened.

I was in my trusty recliner watching some silly afternoon movie, when LJ came out of her quarters toting her computer. "Look at that face, how can you resist it"? I took a look at the 8 week old puppy that was up for adoption at the Arizona Animal Welfare League, then read below it, where it said "Pit Bull" and that's all it took for me. Done. Not getting a Pit Bull that I'm sure we could easily fall in love with, then have it outside sunning itself when the neighbors 6 year old child walks up and gets attacked. Not for me, no Pit Bulls. However I realized that LJ had the puppy blues and needed a quick dose of puppy breath. I told her I could be showered and ready in 20 minutes, to get ready to take a ride.

Many years before I adopted a pup from AAWL and although the pup didn't work out, the people and the organization were wonderful. The dog was a psycho and attacked children without provocation, but that's another story. We wasted no time in going south on the freeway to AAWL. The strangest thing happened though. We could not find a dog that seemed to fit. Most were Pit Bulls or Pit mixes and after about 30 minutes, we realized this was our second attempt and nothing that seemed to fit. Julie even got bitten by a wolf in Chihuahua clothing! She had the most shocked look I'd ever seen on her, when she pulled her finger out of little Paco's cage.

The folks at AAWL referred us to other adoption places and we found ourselves heading south to the main location of the AZ. Humane Society at 19th Ave and Dobbins. Now that's a long ride. We finally found the place and it was large and well kept with a polite staff of volunteers. We headed out and naturally the first dog that LJ fell for was a Chow-Chow. Again, horrible reputations for aggression. We agreed it would not be a good idea and moved on. I think we were on our second row of incarcerated pups when I heard a scream! It was the Lovely Jules, as she laid eyes on this goofy looking over sized puppy that was just all over the place. Macy, a 10 month old Doberman mix is about 22" at the shoulder and weighs about 65 LBS. It appeared that she had just grown and was tall and lanky and didn't know what to do with her size yet. She jumped up on her cage and couldn't get enough affection from us. I really didn't know what I was looking for until I saw her. Yep, she was a keeper!

Whoa, wait a second. Macy was a 3 time loser. She was turned in at the shelter as a new born and adopted out. Then she was returned again for poor behavior. What "poor behavior" could a puppy do? Chew? Poop? Cry? Well, when you adopt an 8 week old puppy, you expect that. Next she was adopted out by an elderly couple and they returned her for jumping up. Yep, that's normal too! She been locked up in the "joint" now for about 2 weeks and things were not looking too good for her. I can cure jumping up. It just takes some time.

Okay, we decide jointly to take home this dog. That's when LJ announces that it's my dog and she will sleep in my room and LJ doesn't want the responsibility of a puppy. Spacy came to $93, including tax and license. I charged it on my card while LJ stood there pretending to shop for a cat, they were on sale! We packed up MY new puppy and I drove while Spacy Macy sat on Julie's lap all the way home in the car. Then Macy ran around the house like a maniac while Jules laughed like a hyena enjoying herself. Then LJ fed MY dog, after which she went outside to do her business, (Macy, not Julie) and took her into her room where MY dog is fast asleep in Julie's bed alongside LJ and I really can't tell who is snoring louder.

Yep, Macy is MY puppy!

Going to the Puppy Prison...

2011-06-04T17:54:00.000-07:00

It had been about a week since the loss of Pawpaw. LJ has been moping around the house staying pretty much to herself, so when I asked if she were ready to go to the Arizona Humane Society, I saw a definite sparkle in her eye. I knew she wanted to get another dog, but wasn't sure if she were quite ready. She gave me a definite maybe. The next day rolled around and she came back from an early morning shopping trip and asked if I still wanted to go? Sure, I was already showered and all I needed to do was put on some long pants.

When we arrived at the location, you would have thought they were giving away cash with each dog, from the looks of the parking lot. There was a 3 car line waiting to go into the lot! Not a parking space to be found, so after 2 trips through the lot, I decided to look for a spot on the adjacent street. After pulling into one that looked legal, we exited the car and before we got 5 feet away, a lady walked up to us and told us we couldn't park there, that was where the ambulances like to park when they bring in an injured animal. I briefly pointed out that it look like a legal spot. She agreed with me that it was legal but not convenient for them. LJ and I looked at each other and moved the car.

We wound up parking about 2 blocks away. Now why is it that when you go ahead and park that far from a location, when you walk past their convenient parking lot there are always 5 new parking spots, right by the front door? Oh well.

We walked past the parking lot that was formerly so packed and realized it was the free neuter or spay clinic. There we tons of people just waiting to get their chance to see the vet, along with their pets that were not destined to ever be parents. Finally we found the front door and entered, passing 2 perfectly good parking spots, but I digress.

There wasn't anyone to greet us, so we just walked back to where the incarcerated dogs were kept. For some reason we got the feeling we had just entered a puppy prison. We walked along a narrow pathway and several dogs came out to greet us. Each pup had a story. LJ became pretty animated with lots of ohhs and awws. Oh look at this little guy, he's soooo sweet. She reached into several cages and tried to pet some of them. Tails were wagging and LJ's hands were soaked with puppy licks. About 5 dogs into our search, we ran into Lucky. Lucky must have been trained in playing the emotions of the potential adoptive parents. He wagged his tail so hard I thought he was going to fall down. Then he raised his front paw and stroke LJ's hand and Julie looked at me melting and said, "This is the one"! While Julie was planning on what we needed in order to bring him home, I was reading Lucky's biography. Hmm.... let's see here. Lucky is a barker and gets along with other dogs, cats, men, women, and children, most of the time but sometimes gets a little moody. He was returned to the shelter by his previous adoptive home after about 3 months because he had attitude problems...........Whoa! He's a jumper and escaped over a 7 foot fence and has been known to dig under fences, as well.

As I pointed out this information to LJ, I reached in to pet Lucky, when he curled his lips and growled and snapped at me, exiting to his outside run. All we did was look at each other, LJ and me, when LJ said, that would have been a mistake.

Next was a felon named Sparkie. Sparkie was a Terrier/Pit Bull mix, uh oh! Next, we came across a rather sedate dog who seemed to just be content laying on his blanket, so we read about him. His name was Homer, a mixed hunting dog. Homer was found and brought into the rescue by ambulance. He had been hit by a car and the damage to his leg was so severe it had to amputated. Ohhh, poor baby...

On the way out Julie said goodbye to Lucky, briefly explaining it was his attitude and I swear he flipped her a puppie finger that she completely missed.

On the way home I gave her about 10 more minutes of the great value of owning a Great Dane, but LJ held firm about, "No Great Danes"! Damn...

Exotic Coconut...

2011-06-01T21:37:00.000-07:00

So I'm cruising along one night watching TV and reading a little, when I get an important notice from the dating service that Exotic Coconut wants to meet me. Well, to say that I was honored was an understatement. I'd never met any coconut let alone an Exotic one. So I hopped online and went to my fate. My first reaction was one that was shock. This looked better than the usual old hag that flatters me with attention. That's when I noticed that it said she was 5' 4" and 102. That's pretty thin, right? Wait, 102 wasn't her weight, it was her age! Seems like there's always a catch to the online beauties. She can't be 102 and look like this, so I assume she's joking and really doesn't want to disclose her age. In addition, she had some other pictures that were quite flattering. I wrote to her and we began a dialogue.

It turned out that in spite of her somewhat youthful look, she was really 61, but that's fine, I'm 65. She offered me her phone number and told me that after 4 PM, she would no longer be on call for work and to call. I did. Turned out that she just moved here from Wisc. and was recently divorced from a man that was 41 and she went ahead and explained what a total asshole he was for about an hour. Hmm...... A bit jaded, I'd say. She lives in a foreclosed home for free while a friend of her ex-husband is renovating it, has no furniture including no bed, but does have 3 rescue dogs and had to put down four others this past year due to old age. She was a retired Maricopa County Deputy and had a career in law enforcement, but was doing "other" work currently. When I asked her what sort of work, she got rather testy and would not tell me. So naturally I assumed she worked for the CIA. On a scale from 1 to 10 on conversation, I gave her a 3 or 4. We didn't speak again, but I emailed her that I'd like to meet her, thinking I'd give her the benefit of the doubt considering she had just moved, gotten divorced, lost 4 pets recently and had no real job. Those are a lot of tough things, after all. She told me that she had to work Saturday until after 9 PM, but was free on Sunday. I replied that Sunday would be fine and no pressure and perhaps then she will tell me about her secret job? Immediately she shot off another email full of capital letters. That's SCREAMING in online chat. She told me that her secret job is none of my business and why do I insist on continually asking? I replied only 2 words. "Nevermind Sunday!"

The Patient is Always the Last to Know...

2011-06-01T17:05:00.000-07:00

If you read this blog, you probably know that my "procedure" from last week was aborted due to my level of Potassium being a little too high to safely be put under anesthesia. When the doctor left me there sprawled out in my chorus line outfit, he said "We'll be in touch with you to reschedule" and he waived goodbye. The very following day, I got a message from his less than adequate "head of surgery scheduling", a little girl named Monica. Her message was to be sure to get new lab work done within 1 week of surgery. That was it. I then waited for her call to schedule me. Two days later, a woman named Annie called and said she was scheduling me and to return her call. I did but it went directly to voicemail. I've since left her 2 other messages, but she seems to ignore them.

Yesterday I got a message from a recording to be sure to show up on time for my "post op" appointment for Friday, the 3rd of June. How can I have a post op appointment if I've not had the procedure done yet? Today, I called to cancel that appointment that I never made and the phone operator asked if I wanted to also cancel my appointment for the 7th of June for surgery? What, I have no appointment then either. So do you want to cancel it too, she asked? What time is it for and where, what hospital? She explained that she cannot give me that information, I need to talk to Monica for that vital info. I was transferred to Monica and it went directly to voicemail once again. She still has not returned my call.

It appears that everything is scheduled and ready to go except no one has bothered to tell me, the patient. Here is another thing that is bothering me. As I laid on the gurney last week, wearing nylon tights and a hospital gown, with my arm out waiting for the IV that was going to put me to sleep, is that when my Potassium level spiked to 5.9? No, everyone knew that ahead of time from my lab reports and no one bothered to make the decision to cancel it until everyone including me, was terribly inconvenienced. Would you go forward with a doctor who's office is this disheveled? It really doesn't say much for him. Rant over.

Do I Attract CRAZY?

2011-05-26T21:40:00.000-07:00

Today has been a day that would be better to end than to continue living through. I already detailed out the trauma of euthanasia and then just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water, I get an unsolicited email from a woman on Plenty of Fish that literally caused serious head scratching. I'll post that email here and keep in mind this woman wrote to me, but just the usual, "I liked your profile" stuff. I didn't respond because she lives far away and I have other things going on.

The sitcom that is my life continues. Now I am hosting three crazy Czecs who flew in

Monday. They arrived with home made brew of some sort. They do not speak english,
they just do not stop. They are up 3 hours before me and stay up after I give up and go
to bed. Last night we were scorpion hunting and we were a block from the house before
I noticed that 2 of them were not wearing pants. they want to take them home with
them (dead of course). I have no idea when they are leaving, but will let you know the
minute I come out of my alcohol and exhaustion induced coma. They think I am looking
up coordinates for more adventures now. gotta run before they get the alcohol out
again. keep in touch so POF does not delete you. I would still like to meet

Cathy

What would you make of it? Yeah, me too. Again, I didn't reply.

At about 7:30, LJ had had enough of today and retired for the evening. She closed her door, turned off the light and went to sleep. About 15 minutes later, I was outside lighting the grill when I thought I heard someone ring the bell, but it might have been on the TV. I came back in the house and headed for the kitchen where we keep the burgers and it rang again. It was completely dark outside and our front lights were off. Not too many people even know I live here, so more likely than not, I figured it was someone to see the Lovely Jules. However she'd had a horrible day and was fast asleep. I didn't want to explain to some old boyfriend the details of my presence here, not to mention she has an unhappy brother that is not to be trusted. All of these are things that went through my mind as the bell continued to ring repeatedly. I decided to ignore the ringing, but then the would be visitor started pounding on the security door and screaming "open the door and let me in", in a woman's voice! That made me not want to answer even more. Suddenly LJ stumbled out of her room, clearly awakened by the intruder and opened the door to find the crazy person had left. She shook her head like it was some kind of a dream and went back to sleep. Me, I ate my burger.

What would you have done? My theory is that when someone rings your bell at 8 or 8:30 PM uninvited and without a previous call, it can't be something I want to deal with. Isn't that how home invasions start?

Farewell to the $5 Dog...

2011-05-26T18:21:00.000-07:00

This picture was taken in January of 09, shortly after having to put down my best friend, Bogie. It's a picture of Zoie, my female Great Dane with Pawpaw the $5 dog. Zoie was lonely after losing her life partner, Bogie and Pawpaw was more than interested in this tall, slim, female, but not willing to court her first. Oh well, Pawpaw remained a good friend anyway.

Today we said goodbye to the $5 dog, sadly. I must say he fought up to the very end. He snapped and growled twice as the vet delivered the lethal injection. He wasn't going to go easily. He was ready though. He had miraculously made it to 20 years of age. Even the vet remarked that he had lead a long life.

LJ came to me yesterday and asked that I handle the preparations, as she just couldn't get herself to do it. I completely understood as she was gracious enough to handle the same for me when it was Bogie's turn.

Somehow I was mistaken for this emotionally strong person that can do this sort of thing, but I shed more than one tear privately, in accomplishing this request. The vet arrived right on time and was very professional and dignified the event. LJ sat with him and said her goodbyes while comforting Pawpaw, as he quietly went off to sleep. Then LJ went out to be alone while the vet carried him off and she said her private goodbyes. Pawpaw will surely be missed.

Rinky Dink Surgicenter...

2011-05-24T15:04:00.000-07:00

I'm back from my procedure but didn't have it done. Here's what happened. I tried to sleep as late as possible, since I knew I wasn't going to be able to eat or drink anything today, so my theory was to extend the sleep portion of my day as long as possible, make sense? At about 9:30 I glanced over at my phone to see it flashing like crazy, indicating some sort of communication that I'd missed. I keep my phone on 24 hours a day, but turn off the ringer at night. There are 4 messages for me to listen to and they are all from the Surgi-center that I am scheduled to be at around 2 PM. I listen and evidently my girl got it wrong again with her last call last night when she moved me to a 2PM check in. Now it's a 1 PM check in. I got the feeling that if I drove right over there now, they'd take me. I called them back with the same information that I supplied to them yesterday on the phone, since there was no record of it.

I made a list of my medications, and casually spent the rest of the morning starving and wanting coffee, that was not to be consumed. I'm on a strict "nothing by mouth" 8 hours before surgery. Twelve thirty rolls around and LJ drives me over to the place that's not too far from the house. She drops me off and goes shopping to the mall. I eventually get invited back by a pleasant little lady named Laura. She's my get ready nurse. I'm instructed to sign a bunch of releases and asked to hop into a hospital gown and nylon stockings that go all the way up my legs to the groin. I'm glad there is no mirror in my little area because I had no desire to see myself in drag. I'm instructed to not tie the gown and just leave it open in the back. I put a net over my head and try my best to climb onto the gurney in a ladylike manner and not shoot a beaver! No way is it possible!

At some point we are joined my several other nurses. One says she'll be with me to take the ex-rays and another is the head nurse, kind of a butch thing. One of the several nurses in the room seems to know more than the others and I can see her take charge attitude that is appreciated since the others are taking my lead. Suddenly, the take charge girl, lets call her Beth, mentions that my Potassium is awfully high and when did I have my labs taken? I tell her the 17th of May, about a week ago, but this is the absolute soonest I could get scheduled here. She says, that's strange because were wide open. No one scheduled hardly at all. My thoughts go wheeling back to the dumb girl that works in my doctor's office in scheduling.

Then Beth tells me that my Potassium is probably too high to go ahead with this procedure, but we will wait for the doctor to decide. I step in and ask, don't you have a lab here to test it again. Laura says we have a device that tests your Potassium right here is seconds but it's broken and we haven't gotten it fixed. I ask when it broke and she says several months ago and no one knows how to get another one. I suggest they contact the rep for the company, but I'm told it's very expensive and the management has decided not to replace it until business gets better.

Suddenly I think I'm hearing all of this in a dream and this can't really be happening. I ask for my pants! The take charge nurse, Beth says it's a good idea if we wait until the doctor gets here before we decided ourselves. I explain that I've already made my decision and to please give me my pants or do I have to walk out of here in my chorus girl outfit. She laughs and suddenly Dr. Spacey walks in and is already aware of the situation. Before I get a chance to tell him I'm leaving he says, let's reschedule this procedure for next week at a hospital where they will have everything we need. I shake his hand and finally am awarded my stinking pants! I call Julie and ask for a Coke to drink while I wait.

Only in Phoenix, AZ. the Valley of the Sun will you find a penny pinching Surgi-center. I'd be willing to bet that the device they don't have isn't anywhere near as expensive as a law suite.

Living a My Space Life in a Facebook World...

2011-05-23T20:17:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I go under the knife in a limited sort of fashion. I need to have a procedure where they enter through my bladder and take pictures of my ureters and kidneys after shooting some nondescript dye into the whole mix. Since I don't come equipped with an easy access bladder, I need to be asleep for the process. I try not to think of the path that they will take to enter my bladder.

And who are these people that wish to do all of this? My candid opinion is that they represent a bunch of ego maniacs that are called doctors. Some are worse than others and they entire bunch aren't worth the prices they received from the system that put them in charge. For example: I am referred to a urologist by my nephrologist (kidney doctor). I attend my appointment with him (Kevin Spacey) and am perfectly on time. My test results are not sent along, so the entire appointment was a waste, but he still charged me a small fortune for his staff's inadequate performance and rescheduled me for a second appointment 3 weeks later. I sit there for about 90 minutes getting madder and madder when he finally walks in, read me my test results and schedules this procedure. Only his girl never calls me back, so the procedure doesn't get scheduled. I finally call the third or fourth time and she does return my call but is not really smart enough to do her job. She schedules this procedure for June 9th, but tells me that I need to have a follow-up appointment with the doctor because my appointment is not within 30 days of my last appointment and that breaks company policy. Got all that?

I ask how I can have a follow-up appointment before I ever have the procedure, when I realize she doesn't know what "follow up" even means. Now I'm frustrated because that will be yet another appointment and frankly, no one knows why I'm even going through all of this. Supposedly it's to see if the reason that my blood pressure runs so high is because of a possible blockage in my kidneys. I asked the urologist if that's what's going on and his reply was "I donno", and just like that too. He asked me why I didn't put my social security number on the application and I told him the truth, that I hate to include that anywhere that is not directly related to the government, so my identity is not so easily stolen. At that point he reads me my social security number, to show me he got it anyway and preceded to print it on all of my paperwork that is distributed everywhere. So much for my secret, huh? So it appears that my doctor has an ego problem. Suddenly, the scheduler says she can fit me in tomorrow at 3 PM. I tell her I'll take it. Later they call and reschedule that for 2 PM and I accept the additional hour too.

Now why am I having problems with my kidneys, you ask? Well, because 6 years ago, an ego maniacal emergency room doctor decided to do an angiogram on my and accidentally poked a hole through my descending artery of my heart. I was rushed to another hospital for open heart surgery where someone goofed again and my kidneys failed. and that's why I don't like going to the doctor!

Wish me LUCK!

DirecTV Sucks?

2011-05-15T12:22:00.000-07:00

It appears that last May I made the decision of Direct TV over Dish Network based on too little information. Not being fully informed ultimately was detrimental to my well being. Here it is 12 months later and I'm paying for that poor decision. I blamed Dish for hiring the jive turkey that answered the phone that day for turning me off. When their representative answered, he had an accent form a foreign land and laughed at me when I told him I was switching from Cox. Kind of like, you poor fool, let me have a chance at you now! That's all I had to hear to plunge the receiver down on that conversation. Next I phoned Direct TV that was answered by a polite lady that seemed like she wanted to help me. (A wolfess in sheep's clothing). I endured a lot of talking and numbers and really all I was interested in was the bottom line and that seemed to be $29.95 a month. I said I'll take it. Evidently that signed me up for a 24 month contract. The installer was less than helpful and when he left I had to reinstall the equipment over again with the assistance of the tech on the phone. The installer just about insisted on putting the dish where he found it easiest, even though I would have been in violation of the HOA rules. He finally did it the way I required and stamped out without saying even a goodbye I'm done, but did leave a humongous mess outside. Immediately after getting Direct TV installed, I looked for my favorite channel, MSNBC. It wasn't available on my limited package so I had to increase it to now cost $41.56 per month. Got all that?

Fast forward to the present. In January I decided to end my lease at the old location due to an evil HOA and landlord from hell. I gladly moved to my present location. When I tried to cancel Direct TV, I was reminded of a 2 year contract I evidently signed and they wanted $300 to ignore. I decided that since I was going to be paying for it anyway, I might as well let them install it for free at the new local. That happened and once again the installation was shoddy. Now at this location we have Direct TV and Dish Network and Dish Network beats the pants off of Direct TV. Direct TV sits all alone in a third bedroom lonely and abandoned. I go in there about once a month to watch a TV show that might not be on with Dish Network.

Friday I got my bill and it was for about $60 to keep that TV running. Naturally I called and was informed that my first year is up and I am no longer within the (now get this) discount period of one year and the regular price is $60 a month. Exasperated, I explain to the lady that I don't even watch the damned thing and only pay it so I honor my contract that I never knew I was even getting into. She puts me on hold while I burn away precious fixed income minutes on my cell phone. I ask her to call me back when she's accomplished whatever it is that she's trying to do, but she says she's not allowed to, that it will only take a few more minutes. I explained that for $60 a month, I'd prefer to forget about Direct TV and just walk away from their alleged agreement. Again, I was asked to hold. About 15 minutes had now passed and I explained that it was not my rule that I remain on hold while she talks to her supervisor and I was saying goodbye! She said something, but I no longer cared and hung up.

About 5 minutes later, I received a revised statement by email and opened it and it said I now owed $21.67 and I happily paid it. Yesterday, I went into bedroom number 3 and turned on Direct TV and found that it was all disconnected. So evidently I'm now paying $21.67 a month for not having any TV. Direct TV SUCKS! What would you do?

DESTANY

2011-05-13T22:16:00.000-07:00

56 year old Cow girl

Howdy Guys, Before I get started on my description, I want you to understand. MEN PLEASE, have a Recent photo posted! Do you know how disappointing it is to email an attractive man, you first see, in a photo, & get sent a recent photo & suddenly he's aged 10 yr's & is now old & ugly? The gal was attracted to to younger photo of you, & it isn't fair to her. You should be retired, or at least have a flexible schedule, for meeting & dating. Working is ok but If your life doesn't have time for dating because of being over worked or other reasons or you don't have time to give the lady proper attention, don't bother. I am looking to spend time with & have fun with a nice guy. If you don't want to meet & date, don't ask. Let's go 2 steppin. If your not a country gent & not decent looking, don't bother. There is a large line between a country gent & a hillbillie, someone that have photo's taken of himself in no shirt & shorts holding a rifle standing in front of a trailer park, & it would help if he has a good education. if not, Not interested. Saves time. Due to the misconception of what I'm looking for, I have to change it a bit, on here. I guess you would say I'm a fun loving gal who just has a normal income & was born in Tx. I love the WESTERN LIFESTYLE, rodeo's & all western events, horseback riding, c/music going out dancing with that cowboy CUTIE. I don't mind occasional traveling. I'm looking for a good looking cowboy or good looking country gent with a good sense of humor & one who loves the western lifestyle. If there is any on this site. ? What I mean by western lifestyle is one who has lived on or worked on a ranch, one who has been in rodeo's or just enjoys going to one, one who know about horses or just likes to ride them. If he even just loves the western lifestyle & dresses like it too, that is a plus. Meeting for the first time dressing in a Hawaian shirt, knee high pant's, & tennies, is such a turn off. I wouldn't suggest it. It would be nice if he could dance as well. (dancing is not a requirement) I like dark headed men, graying is ok, or any combination. Heck if you have hair, that will work.lol I don't tolerate drugs, & excessive drinking but social drinking is ok. If you can't or won't put a pic on then don't bother. I need to see who I'm talking to. That means a resent photo, not one that is 5 yr's old. Looks change a lot within 5 yr's so make them current. Well that's about it guys. If you want to know more bout me, then contact me. ttyl Destany

Her profile pretty much tells it all.

Here's the email I had to send to this sweetheart:

Dear Destany:

Do you have any older pictures where you might appear a little younger? Thanks...

Dutch

PS. You spelled Destiny wrong!

Day in Court...

2011-05-13T11:06:00.000-07:00

I was just sitting and watching TV, which I do way too much of lately, and suddenly a commercial came on with a familiar face. It was an attorney that advertises regularly for his law office and it brought back a memory that was put away for many years.

On January 17th, 1987 I got married and we just had a civil ceremony at the house. We inquired about getting a Justice of the "Piece" to officiate and found that for mere $75 (then) one would come out to the house. We scheduled it and also invited a number off guests to witness the festivities. My two sons flew in for the event and I recall buying a ton of liquor and had the entire affair catered. All that was left to do was to decorate the house and that was not a big deal. On the day of the event, a man rang my bell and announced that he was the Justice of the Peace. I invited him in and introduced myself to him. He told me his name and that he just lived around the corner, about 7 houses away. We laughed and shared a few minutes together as anyone would do with their neighbor.

Soon it was time to have the ceremony, bite the bullet if you will, and the judge took his place at the front of guests. He performed said ceremony and I invited him to stay for something to eat and he accepted. I'd say he was having a good time and he remained until the guests mostly left and he said goodbye, wished us some much needed luck and walked home. Periodically I'd see him out in front of his house and honk as I went by and would wave. He did the same.

Fast forward about 6 or 8 months and I had purchased a car that needed a lot of bodywork and a complete paint job. I took it to a lot of my usual places for estimates and everyone wanted way too much to effectively get the job done and still generate a profit for me. Then I tried a new place on Bell Rd whose name now escapes me. I talked with who claimed to be the manager and he gave me an estimate that was very agreeable to me. I reiterated that he would do the necessary work and he agreed. So I gave him the go ahead and asked for a ride home.

Way too soon, I received a phone call that my car was ready, so I made arrangements to pick it up and got myself dropped off there. When I got there, there was no one around to speak with and I had already dropped off a check for the full amount. I was literally shocked at the lack of quality of their work. It looked like a couple of inexperienced kids worked on it and literally threw bondo at it from a distance. Anyone could have done a better job. I drove the crippled car home and tried to call the paint shop, but no one would take my call. I asked for a return call that never came. I tried many times to reach them before I stopped payment on my check, but eventually called the bank and did it. Only then did I not receive a call but got a demand letter insisting on payment or a law suite. I called and as usual, they wouldn't answer my call. Expecting a law suite, I took the trouble of taping a yard stick to the side of the car and photographing the area that was so badly repaired. On the driver's side, the car was about 2 inches from flat accenting the poor work. In my eyes, it was a slam dunk case.

On the day of my court appearance, I dressed in a 3 piece navy blue suit and was prepared with photos. As I walked into the courtroom setting, I looked up and to my surprise, there sat Judge Jones, "MY" Justice of the Peace. The body shop explained their case and sadly used a couple of profane words in court. Judge Jones (not his real name) threatened to hold the goofball in contempt of court for his language. After that, I was asked to explain what transpired and while wearing my attorney suit, I think I actually tucked a thumb under my armpit while explaining. I'm not going to say that Judge Jones winked at me, but did give me a look of recognition and found in my favor. Case closed!

The Dating Guy is Depressed.........kind of.

2011-05-04T20:43:00.000-07:00

Nancy of Utah

I haven't been doing much in the way of dating, but still receive a few emails from time to time from perspective daters. For your visual experience, here are a few of the latest of the bunch.

First lets talk a bit about Nancy. I was previously warned about Nancy from a friend that happened to meet her prior to my making her acquaintance and was literally warned NOT to tread on her, so I didn't. I did happen to see her online one day when I was pretty bored, so I clicked on her to make her one of my favorites and that's all it took. The website notifies her that I made her a favorite and she immediately wrote to me, to thank me. She seemed nice enough so we exchanged phone numbers and took off from there. One Sunday we talked for over 2 hours and I could see where another woman might not care that much for her, since she's very opinionated.

First, she's an Atheist and insists that her beliefs are the correct ones. Not wanting to get into an argument with a new friend, I took the high road and let it drop. Then we ran into the phone tag routine. I know that when she'd call me, I'd consciously ignore her call remembering the first lengthy discussion. I'm sure she did the same.

Today I finally accessed my social situation and decided to call her in spite of my attitude problem. Our discussion immediately went to her telling me that she was issued a parking ticket and by the time the cop was through with her, he had threatened to arrest her and book her into jail. (I wonder if she shared her Atheist stories?) Our phones began giving us problems with periods that she just dropped off of communication and I took advantage of this time to just hang up on her and blamed it on a "dropped call"! I called her back a few minutes later and it went right to voice mail, so I did what anyone would do. I left a message that I'd tried her 3 different times and would call again soon. (I'm done).

Carole Ann

Next was Carole Ann. Carole Ann was Jewish, thin and from Chicago. She also shared the same name as my very first true love, Carole Ann Kennedy, who took my virginity in 1961 during a babysitting engagement. All that for 50 cents an hour!

Somehow or the other, the new Carole Ann got me to tell her of my heart surgery back in 2005 and evidently she thought it was catchy, because her reply was that she was sure I was past all of that now and to be sure to have a nice summer, goodbye! I deleted her email address, wouldn't you?

Cindy of Michigan

Last and certainly least is Cindy of Michigan. Cindy wrote to me and told me that she'd like to get to know me better. Cindy was attractive, blond, looked young for her 59 years and contacted me first, always an advantage. I replied and then didn't hear from her for about 3 weeks, at which time she asked for a little information on me. Not unusual for a stranger. I supplied her with vital statistics and returned her email within 24 hours. Once again I didn't hear back from her, so I wrote to her that: "since she hasn't bothered to respond, I've met someone and gotten engaged and waited a normal amount of time and got married. I almost immediately found that my new wife used to be a guy named Ralph, so we immediately applied for an annulment and that arrived today. So once again I am awaiting her return email..........................kind of."

Evidently Cindy of Michigan enjoyed my little story because she wrote me back that I was funny and do I want to meet? I replied that I'd like that, but we may not live long enough to actually meet and I'm still awaiting her response.

So zip, on the dating scene. Today, just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water, I received this email and now I'm scared all over again. I'll post it here, along with a scary picture for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy, I didn't!

Laney

"You are too funny!!! I'm 60 & lovin it. The lizzards are adorable out here. I'm sure you can train em all. Meant to take the light rail to the Spaghetti Factory last year, but just couldn't make it. My friends said it was fun!!! I'll be honest with ya - I have an hour-glass figure, only the sand has settled a bit!! Butt its still GOOD.
Laney

An Attractive Pose...

2011-04-28T17:16:00.000-07:00

You know it's my job in life to bring to you anything that you might not get the occasion to see for yourself and many of you don't peruse the dating sites, like I do.

If a serious pose is your best look then by all means, show yourself with a serious look, but if you're best photographed with a smile, then I say smile wide for the camera. Only you know your best look and what might sell you to a perspective mate.

This is also true of the lady that I am about to show you. Although this 58 year old lady did show a rather average frontal pose, it was the following pose that made her most notable. Have a laugh.

Identification and Ice Cream Panic

2011-04-19T22:05:00.000-07:00

Recently at a doctor's visit, I was asked to produce picture ID in order for the receptionist to check me in. I guess people use other people's insurance cards to get medical attention. This started me thinking of all the times in my life that IDs were required.

It began when I was about 17 and I wanted to purchase alcoholic beverages. It occurred to me that when I first got my driver's license, it had no picture on it because there simply was no way to generate a picture into it in those days. We had not yet reached that point of technical sophistication. One year and I'm not even sure which it was, suddenly your photo was capable of jumping from your wallet onto your driver's license. Before that, I think it simply said under 21 or over 21 on the license so perspective liquor vendors were capable of differentiating legal versus illegal. Now those two terms refer to something completely different, but I digress.

In my own particular case, I was kind of lucky. I had a brother that was 3 1/2 years older than me and I simply stole his identification out of our mail, before he ever saw them. I had his draft card and voter's registration at the age of 17 1/2 and was able to frequent all the local Rush Street saloons. All my friends had fake IDs too and they got them in a multitude of ways, but without pictures on the IDs, it was your word against the merchants. I was even tempted once to vote.

Denali Bear Claw

On the topic of ice cream panic: Earlier today, I was casually watching the 5 PM news when this blood curdling scream came unannounced from the kitchen. It screamed something to do with ice cream, like "How in the "F" am I supposed to get the G-d blanking child proof lid off of this Rocky Road ice cream?"

Believe it or not, from the mouths of babes this scream came for the Lovely Jules, who was unsuccessfully opening a 1/2 gallon of ice cream. That's when she grabbed the pairing knife and slit it's fattening little throat from ear to ear! In the years that I've known her, I've never seen such passion and enthusiasm as she tore into the plastic top, just screaming as she finished her attacker off. In this house, the recorded life span of a carton of ice cream, that has not been hidden under the ice cubes, still remains at 3 hours and 12 minutes, (even in the child proof container).

Never Say No to a Buyer...

2011-04-18T20:43:00.000-07:00

Sold

After buying this really cool Volvo C-70 convertible, I got to thinking about it and I really don't drive that much anymore and I do like the Volvo a lot better than my 2004 Toyota Corolla with 135K miles on it, in spite of the fact that the Toyota had literally been trouble free since I bought it on 4/17/2007 with 115,433 miles on it. I drove it quite a bit when gas prices sky rocketed towards $4 around that time. I drove it a lot, I loaned it out to friends a lot and just stored it a lot. The only problem I ever had with the car was that really that of my image. I'd see men my age driving Mercedes and BMW's, even a few antiques in Cadillacs. My image, driving the same car as a college kid, didn't really make me happy, but I was enjoying 30 MPG.

Mostly on a whim, I put a free ad on Cars.com and started getting calls. One gentleman showed up on Saturday morning, telling me he was looking for a car for his son that was about to turn 16. They are my least favorite people to sell cars to because for whatever reason, they NEVER buy. They're too indecisive about what their offspring even likes. Not to mention Mom really makes all of their decisions. So I entertained him and he wouldn't leave until he dug a business card out of his back seat, while his rather large rear end was directly in my face. Not a pretty sight. Upon entering my garage and waiving goodbye to Mr. Businessman, I tossed his card into the garbage. Think about it, what was I going to call him about? Possibly a membership to the gym?

Last evening, at about 7 PM, a young man of Middle East origin called and his name was Danial. He told me that he was new in the area, did not know his way around and was residing in Tempe. Sounds like an ASU student to me. He told me he would be over around 2 PM and would call if there were any changes or if his friend/ride got lost. At about 1:45, the car and I were both ready. I took the trouble of rinsing off the engine compartment, as it was kind of dusty and I then took the trouble of rinsing myself off, since I was kind of dusty too. That's when the phone rang and it was a new woman calling about my Toyota and she wanted to know if she could come right over, since she lived in a place called Surprise, Arizona and she felt it was about 30 minutes away. I told her not until later, since I already had an appointment with a young man that was due here about 2 or so. I gave her the address and instructed her to call about 3 and hung up.

That's when the light bulb lit over my head and I thought, "Gee, a woman just called and wanted to come right over and look at my car to possibly buy it and I just told her no, because a kid named Danial was due here. I immediately called her back and said I was under the influence of a new mystery drug that caused me to turn away perspective buyers because I was actually going to believe the word of a kid, that wasn't sure if he could find Glendale. I told her to come right over and if she has to wait 5 minutes, I'll be sure to give her lemonade.

At 2:45 a Lexus pulled up and two ladies got out and approached me. The first lady introduced herself as Erlinda and the second her apparent "partner" was Cindy. Both very charming, both capable of both finding Glendale and buying my car. They took it for a long ride and returned with smiles, always a good sign. They asked me if I was set on my price and of course I said no, I'll accept more! (That's my car salesman joke.) She asked me if I'd accept $500 less than I was asking and I acted like I was really thinking, but way down deep, I knew I would. I replied by saying, "How about I split it with you"? She lit up in 3 different shades of "YES" and then looked at the driver of the Lexus and said, is that okay? A hearty nod was giving we had a deal!

It appeared that they were a little longer getting to my house because they went to the trouble of stopping at the bank and getting cash. I owned that car for 4 years almost to the day and drove it 20,000 miles, exactly. Danial never did call of show up! Whew!!!

Joey's of Chicago

2011-04-16T09:13:00.000-07:00

Mel F.
Glendale, AZ

4/1/2011
"We slammed on the brakes when we came across Joey's of Chicago on West Bell Road. We were looking for a place to have lunch and being from Chicago, the Italian beef sandwich caused a watering effect in my mouth........ until we tried it. Ugh! I was expecting a treat, if from nothing but the price, as it indicated an expensive meal ahead. Two beef sandwiches were over $20 including the fries and drinks. By the way, they should stick exclusively to fries, they were excellent.
We waited an exasperating 20 minutes for two lousy sandwiches, that were delivered to our table by a polite young man. The beef was tasteless, the roll was nothing like what I was expecting and half the size of the Chicago variety. I ordered mine wet and from experience I knew what to expect, but it was dry and tasteless. We savored the fries and took the leftovers home to the dog. He was also disappointed. First and last try."

It was the afternoon of our Garage sale and both Julie and I were pretty hungry, so we stopped at this welcoming sign that read "Joey's of Chicago", and flew the flag of Vienna Products. Being from Chicago AND being very hungry, this was very meaningful for me. So as the rant begins, I literally slammed on the breaks to make our turn into hot dog happiness. An elderly couple were exiting as we entered and I asked if they were from Chicago and they replied, no. I figured that's why they were leaving, they'd been thrown out.

The first thing I noticed that was a little unusual, was the McDonald's atmosphere that their ordering system took on. I ordered an Italian beef sandwich (wet). Julie being from way off in Indiana, hadn't yet experienced the Chicago style delicacies and ordered hers (dry) with au jus on the side and cheese of all things? We were seated in the restaurant to await our lunches. We chatted and laughed about the garage sale and discussed some of our outrageous buyers of the day, when LJ mentioned that it was sure taking a long time for two lousy sandwiches. about 20 minutes of waiting and a polite young man delivered our selections to us. Uh oh, not good. My sandwich, although I ordered it wet, came on a dry 2" roll that was about 6" long, sparsely covered with tasteless meat.

We both agreed that the fries were excellent, however. Actually, you know all of that from my commentary above. After writing my rant on Yelp, I was contacted by email by a woman that claimed to be Tammi, the wife of the owner. She went ahead and explained that although they take a lot of heat on this website, it's all wrong and their products are really excellent, their prices are perfect and it was our mistake that we were dissatisfied. She wanted to know precisely what time we were there, because her husband was there most of the day and what I'm complaining about is all wrong. I read her email that also offered to mail me a gift certificate, if I'd supply her with my address. I did. Julie was pretty excited because she said we could sell the gift certificate on eBay and possibly recoup 1/2 of our money? Then we exchanged a couple of more emails, as Tammi wanted to know where I had eaten in the Chicago area and from where I acquired my expertise in Vienna Products? I explained that when I moved out of my parent's home, I was 6' 1" and 135 LBS, then got my own apartment and gained 40 LBS in a few months on Laurie's Pizza, where I ate an entire sausage pizza and an Italian beef sandwich almost every night for dinner.

Well, here it is 15 days later and it appears that Tammi's word is about as good as their Italian Beef, because the gift certificates never did come! I'm sticking with Luke's at 16th Street and Indian School.

My Doctor is Kevin Spacey

2011-04-05T20:12:00.000-07:00

Today at 11 AM I showed up right on time, although I was told to show up 30 minutes early to fill out paperwork. I ignored that request, since they sent me a packet to fill out in the mail ahead of time. Seems like this new guy is running his practice like a business. Inevitably, I still sat there reading magazines for over an hour, when my name was finally called and I was escorted to a private office where I was abandoned for 45 minutes. It's now 12:45 when the doctor knocks twice and opens the door for my 11 AM appointment. I literally was about to leave without saying anything to anyone when he finally entered and guess who it was?

In walks this dude, wearing a yarmulke, (a Jewish skullcap) about 50 years old, in perfect physical shape, dressed to the hilt with matching grays, striped shirt, plaid tie and $300 slacks. He had that, "My education is really paying off look". After I got over the concept of a Jewish doctor, not that common in Arizona, I realized he looked just like Keven Spacey................with a yarmulke! Without saying a thing, he stuck out his hand and I shook it and asked if he was Jewish or did he just have a hair transplant? That broke the ice indeed. He burst out laughing and the tension was gone. Then I reiterated, make that Kevin Spacey with a yarmulke. Again he laughed, I guess I wasn't the first to notice the resemblance.

He looked at my file and said, what's with the kidney problems? I told him that I was merely the host and that's precisely why I was here to see him. Turned out that after all the kidneys tests I'd gone to the trouble to sit through, he didn't even have the results of the latest one, the one he needs. I took that test 5 days ago and it was only one block away from his office and I offered to run over and get it. He said he was due in surgery and didn't have time, but he made an appointment for 3 weeks from now, so we can do this all over again. He did tell me that he saw my report saying that I had kidney stones and they were in my bladder and the last thing he said to me was, "I'll see you in the operating room", and left. How's that for a cliff hanger? Don't you just love doctors? FYI, I'll not see another Kevin Spacey movie!

Groupies with Stinky Feet.

2011-04-03T17:17:00.000-07:00

Around the year 2001, I acquired my own groupie. For the sake of anonymity, let's call her Big Lots. Big Lots showed up on an Internet chat room, approximately the same day that my 3rd wife walked out the door, never to return. I was weakened and depressed and open for a helping hand. Big Lots supplied all of that, along with expensive gifts and everyday conversation. She more or less prayed upon my emotional weakness at the time. Don't misunderstand me, I was thrilled to have a new pen pal that called everyday and told me how wonderful I was, who showered me with presents and never overstepped her boundaries. But what car salesman has a groupie?

Big Lots had an array of reasons for why she couldn't come to AZ from her native state of New York. There was work, her panic attacks, family obligations, anything you can imagine to keep us 2500 miles apart. This went on for about a year and a half when suddenly I got a call one day that Big Lots was here at a Scottsdale hotel. I jumped for joy! Big Lots had sent me numerous pictures of herself, showing off her 5' 7" frame and 127 LB weight with model proportions.

I leaped up the stairs to get ready for my impromptu date with destiny. Speeding all of the way. Keep in mind, I was totally overcome by the affection and caring ways of this woman. By the way, Big Lots was 22 years younger than me and clearly a woman of means. I arrived at the Scottsdale hotel and waited rather impatiently in the lobby. Along comes a woman that was about 5' 3" and 180 LB, with jet black frizzy hair and a yellow stripe along one side of her head. She looked like a skunk left out in a rainstorm. She was less than attractive and the only thing that I remembered was her voice, with it's annoying nasal New York accent. I was speechless!

Okay, fast forward a couple of years. This woman was like the herpes, I couldn't seem to shake her. She was everywhere. I'd walk into my favorite restaurant and the waiter would tell me I had a phone call. She'd call and email relentlessly. In spite of my ignoring her, she persisted. In January of 05 I suffered heart surgery and Big Lots was there, but this time she was helpful. After all I couldn't do anything myself and Big Lots brought me food and took me out for rides around town. I didn't mention it, but by this time, Big Lots had moved here to Phoenix and rented an apartment 4 blocks from my house. That's right, full blown stalking.

I ignored her as much as a person can humanly ignore someone else, but she would still text me late at night to tell me my garage door was open. How would she know? Well, I told you all of that, so I could tell you all of this. At some point, Big Lots decided that Arizona was not the ideal place for her and had decided to move back to New York. Here was the problem that she presented to me. Her boss offered her double her salary to stay and train the new replacement, but her apartment lease was up, so could she please stay with me for 2 weeks?

Look, she just devoted her life to get me back on my feet and how could I possibly say no? I did have several extra bedrooms and if anything she would feed me. I told her I'd be happy to accommodate her. Big mistake. Two weeks went by and then three and four. No mention of moving. She was as happy as a clam. Finally I said something about getting my privacy back and of course she was insulted. Finally I heard her calling the movers.

Many items that she no longer wanted, she just wanted to leave here with me. Since they were already placed in my home, there was no work involved in just saying fine. There were stereos, a TV, mirrors and tables and chairs. Basically all of the things we sold in the garage sale. One item in particular was called Magic Feet. For Magic Feet, you poured hot water into this creation and then plugged it in and it vibrated, supposedly massaging your feet, only it didn't do anything but annoy you. I tried it one time and decided it was a Ron Popeel disaster and put it on a shelf in various garages.

Yesterday, as an afterthought, I put a $5 price tag on it and waited. Nothing. No one wanted Magic Feet, no one! About 11 AM, we were tired of garage saling and wanted to close up shop, at the desire of LJ. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a single couple walked into the driveway and the woman picked up Magic Feet and continued shopping. Both Julie and I immediately perked up at the sight of Magic Feet going to a new home, along with the memory of this short fat girl soaking her tired dogs in the solution with flies flying around the entire caboodle. After investigating, it was determined that the new potential owner just moved her from New Jersey, due to the second bad winter in a row. So evidently, soaking your feet is an East Coast thing. She was not the first person to attend out garage sale that was a recent transplant from New Jersey. Julie and I both looked at each other and quickly decided that New Jersey might be empty soon!

Here was the killer. The woman after telling us that she bought the house just down the street, asked LJ how much for her purchases? Julie said, how about $10 for everything and Jersey had acquired 2 blouses in addition to Magic Feet. Nice blouses that were not going to cover Jersey's rather robust bust! Without missing a beat, Jersey says.................$9? Julie yells, sure. I was ready to knock her down! Who does that? Who introduces themselves to you as your new neighbor, then chisels you out of a buck? Who I ask you? Who? Jersey did, that's who!

Going Saling, Garage Saling...

2011-04-02T21:28:00.000-07:00

I've never been involved in a garage sale before. I've always had too much respect for my belongings and never wanted to rid myself of things in the past, however that was all different this past weekend here in sunny Glendale, Arizona. This weekend marked the day of the semi annual garage sale for the Arrowhead area.

I've been selling things, one way or another, all of my life. Whether it was selling me to a used car manager to win his favor or romancing a customer on a 1997 Buick Regal that I had owned for 8 years. So selling is nothing new to me, but garage sale selling was new. I pride myself on being a fast study and picked up the momentum rather quickly. At first, I watch LJ and learned the attitude of the sale. It was a friendly one. Most people wanted to begin by mentioning the 95 degree temperatures and the direct sun. Usually a good ice breaker. There many interesting sizes and shapes attending and LJ wasted no time mentioning to me in an undertoned whisper that that ladies boobs were bought and installed. I enjoyed pointing out a toupee or two by mentioning that you really can't tell!

The story that I'm about to tell you was my favorite of the day. In 1987 I married my second wife. Along with her was a teenage daughter and an ice cream maker. One of those electric ones. (The ice cream maker, not the daughter) We used it one time and it was just awful. It created an ice cream that was neither solid of soft. When you froze it, it became a mass of solid ice and when you let it melt, it was a puddle of sugary milky water. Basically, it was a failure. In 1991 that wife went on her way, but didn't think enough of the ice cream maker to take it along on the journey. I was pretty much stuck with it. I stored it, moved it and stashed it away in a lot of curious and out of the way places. When I moved in with LJ, I found myself placing it on the garage shelf and when she screamed "GARAGE SALE TIME", I knew it was going to be a sale item.

Friday morning it stood proudly on the table waiting for an interested buyer with a sale price of $5 marked on it. This thing must have cost over $50 new. Towards the end of the second day, it was still standing, although not so proudly, as things around it were quickly disappearing as they went to their new homes. Along comes a heavy set woman that was wearing a plain white men's T-shirt and her Wrangler wearing husband, both in their 70's and both right off the farm. She asked if I had the owner's book along with it? No I replied, otherwise we'd be asking an extra dollar. She said without it, it wasn't worth anything. I asked if she got the Internet and he piped up with a proud, yes! All you have to do is look up the instructions and ingredients on how to make home made ice cream. This confused the elderly lady, while her husband was saying, "We can do that"! Mom interrupted with, "that's too confusing for us". I said, how about I knock 5 bucks off the price and you just take it for free. NO, she replies. "Without that instruction book it's of no use to us"! She was getting angry now. I said, "I'll throw in $5, but that's my last offer"! No, even more exasperated, she replies, when suddenly Pops takes over and grabs the ice cream maker and says, "We'll take it for free and you don't have to give us no money"... Do I know how to make a sale or what?

That pretty much summed up my career, I had a lot of fun, but never did make a lot of money.

A Frightening Thought...

2011-03-30T21:40:00.001-07:00

So I'm sitting around tonight, thinking about a few things, when for some reason my Driver's License pops into my head. Remember when you used to have to get it renewed every 4 years or so, until they changed all that and finally issued everyone licenses that were good forever. Well not really forever, but until you get old, right? When mine was issued, it was good for like 20 more years or some such thing. I think you didn't have to renew it until you turned 65, I think. Suddenly a panic went through me like a chill, because on this past Saturday, I DID turn 65. I bolted for my wallet, (As fast as a 65 year old can bolt, which is not that much like lightning, to be honest) and sure as shit, it's currently expired. Been expired for 3 days now. Today I drove my old Corvette around the block, laid rubber and everything. Did a couple of donuts. Good thing no cops have stopped me on about 10 years, huh?

Now here's my question. Will I have to take the driver's test all over again, with the book and all? After 50 years of driving, no way will I be able to pass that test! Let me know...

The Story of Redneck Ron...

2011-03-30T21:01:00.000-07:00

After yesterday's post, the cards and emails started coming in (2) wanting to know more about Redneck Ron. Well, the truth is, he's really quite a colorful character.

The year was 1980 and I had filed for divorce against the lovely Barbara, aka wife number 1. She and the kids had moved back to Chicago and I had sublet my car lot to a friend and taken a job working for a rental car company, balancing their inventory and buying fresh cars. One day I was hanging around the lot when this young kid came in wanting to know if I wanted to sell any of the cars wholesale. We had a number of cars that had been wrecked or were not worth fixing, that sat in a pile waiting for God knows what. I pointed to the pile of cars and said, those are for sale, but since I didn't know him, I told him cash only. Ron was about 25 then and reminded me of Elvis with blond hair. Tall, good looking kid with his hair on his forehead. He bought three of the old clunkers and went off as happy as a clam. I didn't know at the time, that those were the first cars he ever bought. He'd saved up a thousand dollars and was determined to get into the car business.

The years passed along and we kept in touch, but he got into the retail business and I continued to wholesale. Much more glamorous but not as much money.

Ron's social life is the most interesting part of his story. He left an ex-wife and son in Michigan and moved out to sunny Arizona. He met a girl and moved her in with him and proceeded to have 3 children with her. They lived in a house that Ron had bought at 35Th Ave and Greenway. Things started getting rocky after a number of years and the lovely couple split up. Shortly after that, Ron started seeing the younger sister of his ex-girlfriend and moved her in with him at his new house and proceeded to have 3 children with her too! His youngest son is about 10 now. At Christmas, it's just one big happy family. Don't ask, I don't.

Six years ago when I awakened from heart surgery and more of less came out of the fog I'd been in, there in my room were a host of people and one of them was Ron. He was involved in a heated argument with Patty, my ex-sister-in-law, Barbara's sister, who lived in Chicago. She was screaming at Ron for bringing me food from the cafeteria downstairs. Did you ever wake up from a dream and your Mom who's been dead for 20 years is having a political argument with your dog and the dog is winning? Well, that's how it seemed. How did Patty get there and how does she know Ron? Why are they fighting? My Morphine must have worn off.

When I got home, Ron came to see me a couple of times and was selling me some pretty nice cars. He understood that it was hard for me to get out like I used to, so he'd call me on them. Then the entire business changed and I didn't hear from Ron for quite some time. I called him a couple of weeks ago, after realizing I hadn't heard from him in about 6 months. He was busy with visiting family and called me back when he found the Volvo convertible. I used to specialize in Volvos. I was known as the Valley's only unauthorized Volvo dealer. It was printed on my cards.

So that's the story of Redneck Ron. As an addendum, we lost Patty to cancer this past January, she will be greatly missed.

Strange Day... but Great!

2011-03-29T18:17:00.000-07:00

Something happened today that has NEVER EVER happened before. I got up early because Ron was calling me with the news on my Volvo, if it ran okay or not. I told him I'd buy it assuming it goes down the road okay and has cold AC. When you're in the car business, like I was, you depend rather heavily on someones accurate description of a car. You base your paying price upon it. I agreed to pay XXX amount of dollars assuming certain things about he car were in good working order. Ron never told me it was a "nice" car, but it was. A nice car is a car that just shows well. It hasn't been all redone everywhere and it's still got that fresh look to it. The Volvo looks fresh, in spite of it's 94, 000 miles, which really isn't that bad for a Volvo or a car 11 years old.

With Ron, I like to pay cash because I know that the place that he bought the car requires either cash or a cashier's check. I arranged to get enough for Ron, but my mattress will never sleep the same! I met Ron over at the dealer where he bought the car, Peoria Kia, where LJ dropped me off. I inspected my buy and frankly was pretty pleased, in spite of the fact that the top won't go down, but I'll get that fixed.

I counted out the cash to Ron and watched him count it right back to me. It was right on the money, so to speak. Without warning, I was expecting a suggestion of lunch or for us to just part company when Ron said, "I'm about to put a smile on your face". My reply was, huh? He repeated what he said and I just stood there looking at him. I had signed and order for the car, but never bothered to look at the price. Why would I? He said to look at the order and I did. He had written the order for $500 less than I agreed to pay for the car when he handed me 5 fresh $100 bills. With my mouth open, I asked why. He said, they owed me a favor and I complained about paying so much for it, so they knocked $500 off the price. My mouth still agape, because he passed the savings on to me. Who does that??? I think a new bond just formed between Ron and myself. Guess who trusts him unconditionally?

I've known Ron for 30 plus years. Today he told me that I was the first person to sell him cars when he first moved to Phoenix from Michigan. I guess we've got us some history. Ron is an unusual character. He's kind of a redneck, but as sweet a guy as you'll ever meet. All the years while everyone else was blowing their money on good times and booze, Ron was buying property. He told me today that at one point he owned 28 pieces of land. He sold his car lot on 19Th ave and Broadway for 2 point 3 million dollars and he owned it free and clear. So what do we have here? A redneck, sweetheart, millionaire and he's only 57.

Corvettes and Volvo Convertibles...

2011-03-28T20:38:00.000-07:00

Of all of the cars I've bought and sold over the years and there have literally been thousands, the Corvettes have always been my favorites. First, the cars are really cool and signify America's truest attempt at sports car creativity. But it's the people that drive them and want them that fascinate me. They are the elitist of the elite, in their own estimation and the surest way to ensure a Corvette sale is to ask if they feel comfortable driving a really cool car like that, as they are certainly NOT for everyone. I tried that once when I first started playing with cars at Holiday Olds in downtown Scottsdale in the 70's. This typical geek came in to look at the Corvette we had for sale. He himmed and hawed and couldn't make up his mind. I tried the intimidation line on him and said, "You know, Corvettes aren't really for everyone, do you feel comfortable representing the type of person that drives a Corvette?" He puffed out his chest and asked, where he has to sign to get it?

Another unusual customer came to see a red Corvette I had for sale. This car was really nice and this was my first customer of the weekend. He was a cool guy with his girlfriend along for the ride. They took it for a ride and came back saying, something or the other was wrong with it, but wanted to make me an offer. I asked what the offer was and he told me. He was standing, along with his girl, in the driveway and I was in the garage near the button that closes the garage. I replied that his offer wasn't going to get it, but thanks for coming out. With that I started closing the garage door. As the door got closer and closer to the ground, he was kneeling to yell underneath it, "HOW MUCH THEN? The door closed and he ran to my front door and rang the bell. When I opened it, he just said, "I'll take it"!

Another of my favorites was a 2001 Volvo silver C70 turbo convertible. I owned it about 3 years ago. I kept it for about 6 months in total and when I finally let it go for sale, it had the good fortune to make me some pretty serious money. There are few of them around and available. This is the 5 cylinder turbo model.

So today I was hanging around the homestead, getting ready for the big garage sale this weekend, when my phone rang. It was Ron, an old friend of mine that used to sell me cars before I completely retired. We talked for awhile and he asked me if I'm interested in going back to work. Why, I asked? He said he had a 2000 Volvo C70 silver convertible and he told me how much it was. I just blurted out, I'll take it! It only has 90,000 miles on it and that's low for an 11 year old car. I pick it up tomorrow. I think I just went back to work!

What Ever Happened to "Babies Under 2 Fly Free"?

2011-03-22T19:36:00.000-07:00

Around the year 1977, my younger son Brad was almost 4 years old and although we'd been smuggling him on board of airliners for free, we were really pushing the limits of babies under 2 flying for free back then, by a good two years. The last time we tried it, we were warned that we needed to purchase a ticket the next time we want him to fly. Knowing this, we still tried it one last time in 77. Hell, wouldn't you?

Here was my plan. We had almost always been hosts to Great Danes. Both my wife and myself were literally in love with the breed, as displayed earlier in this blog until the loss of both of my beloved pets and friends. Back in the 70's, we had our first set of Danes, Bogie 1 and Duchess. They were a matching set of fawns, easy to take anywhere and loved everyone and everything. Knowing this, we decided to take them to the airport for the sending off of my family. As we purchased 2 tickets for my wife and older son, we smuggled Brad through without a hitch as everyone was in awe of this matching pair of well behaved gentle giants. I heard all of the usual things. How much do they eat and you can put a saddle on them? I smiled and answered questions as my free loading son boarded the plane without a thought or a problem.

The following year we had to buy Brad a ticket because by then he wanted to sit in the smoking section!

Strange Week

2011-03-19T09:55:00.000-07:00

After a week of jumping through medical hoops, drawing blood, going for imaging and dealing with pharmaceutical needs, today was a relief to awaken and realize it was Saturday. After all of the crap I accomplished at everyone else's desire, i.e. transferring urine to a more suitable container, not breathing during imaging when breathing is exactly what we live for and arriving on time to fit the schedule that appeals to everyone but me! The whole thing was pretty anticlimactic.

Arriving home after my bout with the Hooter's Girls, I received a phone call from a doctor from the same office Dr. Harvey works out of. Only this doctor sounded like a 12 year old girl. How do you take a doctor seriously when I respond to her using the name "Sweetie". I couldn't help it, it just popped right out of my mouth. She wanted me to submit to additional tests because she found that with the results of my test, I had a disease that causes urine to not drain from my kidneys. Here's the problem. She's NOT my doctor that I've been dealing with for 6 years working out of the same office. Plus, it was discovered that I had that disease 6 years ago and there is no reason to address it, other than financial. I said I'd discuss it with Dr. Harvey and she said, "He's on vacation. Well, I don't really know he's on vacation, but he's not in the office". My immediate thought was that I'd spoken with him a day earlier and he never mentioned a vacation, but to call him the next day. When the 12 year old hung up, I pictured her skipping away from the phone wearing a Girl Scout uniform, but that's just me...

LJ went away this weekend, to visit her son in Yuma. She told me that the last time she went, about 3 weeks ago, it cost her about $140 just for gasoline. My Corolla gets at least twice the gas mileage of her truck, so I offered for her to use my car, which she quickly accepted. She had some errands to run yesterday (Friday) and she asked if she could use it to fill up the tank. Naturally, I said yes. That left her truck here for me to use. Since I had the use of her truck, I figured I'd go to my storage unit to see if there was anything there that I wanted to take home for the big spring neighborhood garage sale, in a couple of weeks, like the electric bread maker that I bought for wife number 3, that she never used or wanted.

As I opened the big overhead door, I was taken aback. There was broken glass everywhere. What happened? Was there an accident in here. I looked immediately for skid marks, but nothing. How does an accident occur inside of a locked storage unit? This was a job for Sherlock Fisher! First I checked all of my glass tops and they were intact. Then the culprit exposed himself. I had stacked boxes on top of one another and one of the boxes gave out, causing the box on top of it to come tumbling down upon a lamp that had a glass shelf on it. I don't even know where it came from. Must have been left over from some wife, that didn't think enough of it to take it along. I no longer have it, but just the mess of broken glass that it left! Mystery solved, but guess what you never seem to have at a storage locker? A broom! So the broken glass will no doubt be there for a long time to come.

I went to the pharmacy this week to pick up my prescriptions. I need them to stay alive, it seems. Since becoming Medicare age, my primary insurance has declared me a Medicare recipient and declined paying for my any of my scripts. My Medicare card for prescriptions has not yet arrived, so they asked ME to pay for everything. One of my monthly prescriptions is $167 alone and that's for a 30 day supply. I left empty handed. All of this will eventually get worked out, but will I last that long?

Summing up, for the weekend I've got a truck that gets about 15 miles to the gallon and a $5 dog to supervise..... Oh well.

My Day at Hooters...

2011-03-15T21:54:00.000-07:00

I tried to sleep late today, as I had an appointment at the Imaging place for noon, but wouldn't you know it, today I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to sit around knowing I couldn't eat or drink anything except for 17 ounces of water, right at 40 minutes before my appointment. I was starving.

I arrived at the joint right on time to fill out the plethora of papers. It asked me my gender then it wanted to know if I were pregnant. I answered, DUH? Now it wanted to know who to contact in case of an emergency. I thought for awhile and finally put down Julie. Next it wanted to know our relationship, so I answered "personal". Wouldn't you?

The only notable thing about the place was that it was just filled with gorgeous busty blonds. Every single employee, except a fat Hispanic guy was a drop dead gorgeous babe. I figured he was the HR guy. That kind of thing doesn't happen by accident! I opened the door to the place it looked like happy hour at Hooters!

I was about to ask how long I'd have to sit there and a nice lady came out from behind closed doors and called my name. Showtime! I was escorted to a private room by Cara and introduced to Ralph, the tech that she was training. I guess when you have ladies like that working somewhere, you have to have chaperons. Oh well. They laid me down on the table after removing my shirt and I was asked to lay in a horrible position, not on my side or back, but about 1/4 towards my side. I had to use one foot for a kickstand. Now he used what I thought was KY Jelly to lube the prod and the smell of the lubricant reminded me of better situations. Ralph told me that when he announced "stop breathing", I am to do so immediately, whether or not I've inhaled or not. Then I'd have to hold it for about 15 seconds, usually without any air in my lungs. Not fun! You find yourself panicking even though you know you can breathe if you have to. Once, I blew it and took a breath and Ralph went ballistic, showing his inexperience. Cara calmed him down.

Now that I was pissed off at Ralph, I decided to play the smart-ass. I causally asked Ralph how long he'd been doing this and he replied, "about 6 months". I let about a minute pass and mentioned that the reason that I asked was because, my kidneys are in the back, not on my side where he was looking. That's when Cara almost fell off her chair, yet Ralph found no humor in the comment whatsoever. Forty-five minutes later I was done and I asked where I could deposit the 17 ounces of water I was required to drink. Again Cara laughed and Ralph was confused.

Stage 2 was meeting Celeste', a buxom blond from Canada, who finished her sentences with, aye! My CT scan took about 10 minutes and I was free to go, which I did and headed straight for the Knock Kneed Lobster for some deep fried fish. I was starved! After the last two days of miserable issues, I felt I deserved it.

Pissy Day...

2011-03-14T20:33:00.000-07:00

With the addition of Medicare, I come to you basking in the sunshine of health insurance, a fulfilling feeling to say the least, after going through most of my 63rd and 64th year without any insurance. I decided to investigate some of my problems, compliments of the U.S. Government, hooray!

After a couple of visits with Dr. Harvey, he determined that my blood pressure is too high and that the cause needs to be investigated. He did this once before in 2006, when he decided I had cancer of the kidneys as a secondary location and bone cancer was my real problem. He determined this with blood work that spiked a certain enzyme, indicating either cancer or some other benign problem. So after getting shingles from nerves, he figured I'd be dead by then if it were cancer, so it turned out to be the other benign thing. By then I'd been going to an oncologist for 6 months.

So tomorrow I'm scheduled for an MRI and an ultrasound of my kidneys, to try to locate the culprit that is driving my blood pressure up. In preparation for these tests, I was told to do a 24 hour urine collection. My first. Now I thought, where in the world would I find enough people to donate their urine to fill up the 78 ounces required. I didn't even know any of the neighbors! The Lovely Jules turned me down, flat! On Friday, I drove around for almost an hour looking for a street named Eugie. I learned never to ask women where certain streets are, because they will send you on a wild goose chase instead of saying they just don't know. I finally found a mail carrier (male) that knew exactly where it was, thus I found Sonora Quest Lab, in Thunderbird Hospital.

When I opened the door, a guy literally fell out, because the line was back to the front door. I did a quick uh-uh and left and that was just to get the container. I decided to use empty water bottles instead. What I'm about to share were some very personal moments, that no self respecting man should ever have to do. The closest I'd ever come to this, was at a drive in movie one night, peeing into a 16 ounce Budweiser can, in my early 20's. Ah memories! To be sure that I had enough water bottles, I prepared for the event by saving several and removing the tops to let them dry. I didn't want to dilute! You know I never needed to flush the toilet once the entire day. Imagine the savings in water. Then I was up late last night thinking of a way to smuggle the water bottles filled with pee into the facility. Here was my plan.

Wearing a fake mustache, I'd enter Sonora and ask politely for a 24 hour collection container, then I'd go outside, remove my mustache and come back with the container already filled. Or I'd go to a second location to do the sting! Suddenly I remembered I had a mustache and no razor, so I just went in there carrying 5 full bottles of pee in a Trader Joe's shopping bag, looking like every other homeless man.

The girl behind the desk knew me and said hello. I replied, hello and that I'm here for a 24 hour urine collection, would she like to donate? She just opened her mouth, but no words would come out! I guess she didn't know me that well. That's when I started to take her into my confidence, big mistake. I said, "Look, I've got about 5 water bottles filled with urine and I need to turn them in to you here, will they be okay like this or do I need to transfer, said contents, into one of your containers"? From the look on her face, she obviously thought I'd asked for her first born! Her mouth was agape and she was aghast. All she could say was, she could lose her job! I asked what the difference was and she yelled, "CROSS CONTAMINATION"! The she asked me what I washed the bottles out with and I knew better than to tell her soap, so I told her just water. That was the truth. You'd have to be an idiot to wash out water with soap!

That's when I realized that nothing in life is easy and I was certainly driving in the left lane today. I decided to use an Obama approach, so I lead off with another "Look"! Either accept my urine collection OR give me a container and I'll turn it in somewhere else, to another location. She decided to call her boss. Twenty minutes later, the OKAY was approved and I was allowed to take my pee bottles into the men's room, to do the switch.

As I poured my own chilled urine, from one container into another, I thought to myself. I believe this is the first time I've ever had to do this......................... Yes, I'm certain of it!

What a Surprise..........Costco Sucks!

2011-03-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

As I was making the old Buick ready for it's inspection today, I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I put my Blackberry into my back pocket, then sat down. When I took it out, the screen was gone. Just blank and nothing brought it back. I tried all the tricks I know, even rebooting, but no luck. So, after the Buick trio left and I knew my next stop would be Costco, because that's where I bought it and I bought it there because Costco is normally WONDERFUL about everything. Notice I said normally.

I was tired, since I'd gotten little sleep last night and was busy from the moment I awakened, but I knew I had to get phone service before the day was up. I sauntered into Costco and after being greeted by the usual guy that seems to remember me, I made it back to the Kiosk where they sell phones. I'd say I had to wait about 10 minutes as they finished up with customers, when Bobbie asked if he could help me. Bobbie is the manager there and he's got that cocky look that you'd like to wipe off his face rather aggressively. He was a punk. Those of you that are 45 and older know what I mean. He asked my what my problem was and I showed it to him. I handed him my paperwork that for some reason I actually had with me. I pointed out that I'd had this phone for 1 year and 10 days. Bobbie smiled and said I was S.O.L. Those words. I explained that when I bought it, it was explained to me that the warranty was good for 1 year and because I was buying it at Costco, they were doubling the warranty to two years. Bobbie matter of factly said, we don't do that anymore. I countered with, but you did do it then. Yeah, but we're not honoring it and your phone is 10 days past warranty, and pretty much goodbye. As crudely as he could, he said, "Why don't you take it across the parking lot to AT&T, maybe they'll feel sorry for you" and he turned away.

I learned long ago, not to try to reason with a punk. I internally growled and walked away. By the way, Dan, my salesman stood there like a statue as his punk boss called him a liar. As I walked towards the exit, I seemed to get angrier and madder, when I turned and headed for the management offices. The young girl called for a manager and I drew Ian. Tall, skinny and 22ish. I explained that I was a 25 year customer and I still have my Price Club card and I don't feel that I'm being treated fairly. He listened and said he agreed, but unfortunately there was nothing he could do. I just looked at him and explained that I did business with Costco BECAUSE I don't get treated this way. He said he'd go and ask his boss. I waited for about 15 more minutes while I was in the way of customers that were returning items they didn't want. In other words, I was in the way. Ian came back and reiterated that there was nothing he could do. I didn't get mad, I didn't use foul language and I didn't threaten to cancel my account, but I will.

Here's the issue. Not only do I now not own a functioning phone, but I have an additional year left on my contract, without a phone. Costco does not sell phones without contracts. If I buy a new phone, which I was willing to do, I had to add a line to my existing contract for about $70 a month. Then my bill would be around $200 a month. No fucking way!

I wandered over to AT&T across the parking lot and talked to two young guys and asked which was better with horror stories. They both said they were! I told my sad story and a guy named Chase (named after the bank) said he would make a call in my behalf. He talked to someone and after him begging on his knees, whoever he was talking to, agreed to honor my 1 year contract in spite of the fact that I was 10 days late. First I had to pass the "paid on time" test, which I did with flying colors. The worst part of the transaction was that I had to drive all the way to Paradise Valley Mall in rush hour traffic and there was a rollover accident stopping all cars for about 30 minutes.

I got home about 6 PM and the Lovely Jules had cooked a pork tenderloin with artichokes, topped with parmigiana cheese, diced cooked ham and roasted pine nuts. Not too shabby!

Summing up: I'm super-tired, with a new phone, a pile of cash, and a full belly!

The Car that Wouldn't Go Away, Went Away!

2011-03-11T18:34:00.000-08:00

I broke down last night and placed my Buick on Craig's List. I'd heard from one of my friends that it's working great to sell older cars, plus it's free. After shelling over about $100 for an ad on AutoTrader, I certainly felt the price was right.

About an hour later, I got a call from a gentleman that claimed he had a 2 year old baby and needed a safe car. I suggested a Volvo, not a supercharged Buick. He seemed to be about 20 years old, claimed he lived near me and wanted to come over at 8AM to view the car. I laughed and told him, "Absolutely not"! I don't get up until after 9 these days and I'm certainly not interrupting my sleep for the "car that wouldn't go away".

In spite of praying to the best of my ability, sleep would not come. I did the tossing and turning routine until 3 AM, then took a pill. Still nothing that resembled sleep. Many strange thoughts and then one of my legs tried to learn a new dance, but no sleep for me. I kept thinking I have to be up no later than 9 to be ready for my customer. I saw 5 AM, then it was 8 and I laid in bed until 8:30, then ran for the shower. By 9 AM, I was showered, shaved and dressed, with a wave in my doo. I poured my first cup of coffee and started making ready for my client. I cleaned the windows on the old Buick, then sprayed about a quart of Fabreeze into the guts of the great beast. It looked and smelled good. So did I! Ten o'clock came and went and nothing. I got stood up! Neither the Buick or I were going to the dance..................until Judith came along!

Judith from Prescott was down here looking for a car for herself with her 40 year old daughter and 103 year old mother. What a trio! The phone rang about 12:30, as I sat there dejected. She asked all the questions that a REAL buyers asks. Most importantly, she asked if there were a bank close by to get the title notarized? She also said she would be a few minutes longer, as she needed to go to the bank and get ca$h! Yippeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Cash!

The three generations rang the bell at about 1:30 and I greeted them graciously. Hell, knowing she brought cash, I would have had the event catered! They were as sweet as could be, we got Grandma a seat in front of the TV while daughter and Mom drove about 3 minutes and returned saying, "We'll take it"! No haggling or sniveling or weaseling or chiseling or (I know you're waiting for me to say it) Jewing me down! Just, I'll take it. I never heard 3 sweeter words in my life.

The youngest of the trio handed me some pretty fresh hundred dollar bills and I politely counted all 43 of them to make sure they didn't give me too much. (Yeah right). I helped Grandma off the couch and spotted that Grandma spotted, but didn't say anything. I'd say all together, it took them about 10 minutes to get situated and drive away before I could scream YEA!!!! At the top of my lung!

Automobile Update...

2011-03-09T21:17:00.000-08:00

It's not like I'm not used to it. People giving you the impression that they're going to buy a car from you, then disappear into thin air, but not at this rate. It seems that the car that wouldn't leave the house is still at the house! I had 2 different sets of people commit to buying it, yet here it is. On good faith yesterday, I took the car that wouldn't leave the house, to the mechanic's place and spent an entire afternoon and about $150 getting the poor thing to not make the little noise it was making, that seemed to scare buyers away. It was the tensioner that was feeling rather tense and complaining ever so softly, sounding like a potential problem. So that and a new belt quieted her right down. As she was purring her way home, my phone rang and it was buyer number 1, calling to tell me that the credit union declined their loan (big surprise) Would YOU want to loan someone $4300 for a 14 year old car? Me neither.

So I went home with my new quiet car and waited for the chubby girl that promised me that she wanted it, to drop by with a deposit. By any chance did she go to your house, because she sure as hell didn't come here! I didn't even bother to call her and put her on the spot, what for? Today, not a single call pertaining to the old car, until about 5:30 when Chubs called and asked if I still had it. That she "for sure" wants it, but can't get a ride over to give me the deposit money. I suddenly became very quiet, polite and serious. After all, when someone wants to give me money these days, that's not only serious business, but very uncommon. She said she'd be over either today or tomorrow with the dough. Well, today's over, I guess it's tomorrow! I'm glad I'm retired.

It Took 6 Months but......

2011-03-07T20:42:00.001-08:00

Was it a miracle? Did the stars line up, finally in the correct pattern? Did the deteriorating ozone eventually influence the mindset of mammals in the northern hemisphere? Today was a day to remember. A first class day!

First, when I awakened from an extended sleep this morning (10 AM), my phone showed 3 messages in voicemail. One from a friend that had me over for dinner last night and another from a perspective buyer of the "car that wouldn't leave the house" and thirdly from a lady that looked at said car and wanted to buy it! Yes, she and her husband want the Buick with the supercharged engine. But............they have to get a loan for the full amount from a third party, known as the credit union. My experience with credit unions declares that they really HATE loaning money on 14 year old cars and said buyer better have credit like GOLD!

It was about 4 PM, as I waited for a lady to show up that had called on Sunday afternoon and emailed last night. She worked at the ME (Medical Examiner's) office here in Phoenix and I was dying to ask her if her name was Kay Scapetta, but I digress. I walked across to the mailbox and grabbed the mail. As usual, a lot of stuff for LJ, a few things for her ex-husband, more things from people that once lived here and one lonely piece of mail for yours truly. It was an envelope from my arch enemy, Chase Bank. I even commented to LJ that Chase was doing their usual dance that they are required to do after showing me "no mercy" on the Ralph Lloyd Juriansz crooked dentist fiasco. Merely as a courtesy, did I even open the letter to read about how they were not going to resolve this issue in my favor.

The first paragraph was the typical opening thanking me for my phone call on March 1, 2011. Reading down it explained that they were changing their decision and crediting me back the $3500 since I supplied to them the necessary criteria, indicating that I was truly left at a disadvantage from the crooked dentist! I looked up and said to Julie, "I have to read this again", and I this time read it aloud to her. She looked at me and asked, "does that mean they're agreeing with you"? Yes, I think so!!! Suddenly I wished I either drank or smoked pot for some reason, because a celebration was surely in order.

Only God and the people involved in the conversation that occurred after I hung up will ever know how that happened, because there was no reason for me to think I'd done anything but piss everyone off when I ended our conversation on March 1st. Could it be that someone read my blog and came to my much needed rescue? Stranger things have happened.

You may not realize the impact that blogging has on certain things, but each time I bashed Qwest, I got immediate results. When I switched away from Cox, Cox contacted me from my blog. Every time I write out the name Ralph Lloyd Juriansz, the crooked dentist, perspective people that want to check out a new dentist, read what I have to say on the subject and perhaps one fellow patient (victim) might avoid the wrath of RALPH LLOYD JURIANSZ <------- the crooked dentist! For now, my efforts must concentrate on finding a new dentist, one that I actually do my homework on and marvel at how the Gods have changed things in my direction. Thank you.

Oh, the second set of ladies want the Buick too and the first ones to bring the money here wins!

Lovely Marcos Island in Florida...

2011-03-06T08:42:00.001-08:00

I got an email from a friend a few days ago. He wanted to know if I wanted to go to Marcos Island with him for a mid-winter getaway. He told me how he'd been there with his wife about 2 weeks ago and it was a lovely romantic vacation. While in Florida, he also took his two young children to the theme parks. His kids are 19 and 17 year old boys. This is the same guy that I traveled to Florida with last year to visit our friend Barry, who has been stricken with cancer and in undergoing Chemo currently. As much as I'd like to see Barry, this is what the trip would entail. First he told me he would insist on separate rooms or a suit with 2 separate sleeping rooms, due to my occasional snoring. I tried to explain to him that he also snored and that's what to expect when you invited men to go on vacation with you.

We talked for about 30 minutes since I hadn't spoken with Bruce in quite a while. He had heart surgery about 9 months ago and of course I spoke with him several times around then, but he's been rather heard to tie down since. Suddenly he excused himself from the phone, as he said he had to pee and it was an emergency! Before I could even comment, he was gone for about 3 minutes. When he returned to the phone, he asked if I were still there, that he would have hung up if someone had done that to him. Hmm... just what I was thinking... I haven't had to deal with anything like that since my son was 5! Then he asked me if I were the same way, that suddenly you have to pee and there's no time to waste? I thought about it and noooo...... that's not one of my problems, hello! He continued to describe this romantic vacation for two heterosexual 65 year old men and I was getting more and more disenchanted when suddenly he announced that his son was calling and he'd call me back. He never did and I'm NOT packing!

The Old Timer's Gang...

2011-03-04T18:44:00.000-08:00

The call came yesterday. It was Chuck Todd. Chuck is an old friend from yesteryear. I met him in 1975 when he was the used car manager at Courtesy Chevrolet. A 28 year old kid wandered in there and asked for the manager. I told him I was a recent transplant from Chicago and wanted to be a car dealer. Humble was the setting for the day. Chuck was and still is a towering man, standing about 6' 3" with a strong vocal and an even stronger IQ. He was intimidating to those who could be intimidated, but I made quick friends with him when he told me that he too was from Chicago. He sold me my first wholesale car, a 1973 Maverick, for $250. As I was pulling off of the lot, I heard a strong voice come over the PA system and it said, "Will the new Jewish kid from Chicago please come to the used car office"? With a reddened face, I complied. When I walked in, Chuck took the purchase order out of my hands and tore it into about 10 pieces and said, "In the event of a retail sale on a car, retail wins over wholesale every time". Then he explained that one of the salesman was writing a retail order on the car as he was wholesaling it to me, to come back another time and he'd sell me something else. I did and that began a 35 year relationship, both business and social.

The message that he left went like this. "Call me back, it's semi important." I did and he told me he was having lunch with Jerry Hendrickson and Dave Allen tomorrow, do I want to join them? Yeah, I did!!! I haven't seen those guys in over 20 years. I figured they were dead or hiding. These were 2 guys left over from my drinking and partying days. Immediately stories came to mind that had me laughing till my sides hurt. Jerry in particular had a drinking problem. Back then it was just funny though. He was married to a Mexican woman named Lupida. We all knew Lupida because she was always calling the bar and getting all pissed off at Jerry and hanging up on him. She always showed up to pick him up though, but not before reading him the riot act in front of everyone. When Jerry got too drunk, he'd call Lupida and she'd scream holy hell at him. One night, Jerry staggered to the pay phone at Dave's Bar and dialed his home number to alert Lupida to his condition. As he was waiting for her to answer, he sneezed. The sneeze caused his glasses to fall off of one ear and hang precariously, balancing on his nose. Then he sneezed again and his glasses went crashing to the floor, breaking both lenses. Just then, Lupida answered the phone and Jerry proceeded to ask her to pick him as he'd broken his glasses and can't drive. The entire bar broke up laughing, since Jerry clearly used the emergency of the moment to his advantage.

Another time, Jerry was clearly plastered to the point where he couldn't drive and Lupida would not pick him up. I had been drinking, but was clearly the more sober of the two. Jerry climbed into my car and I promised to drive him home. He was very adamant about asking me if I knew where he lived. He asked me about 5 different times and I assured him, I did since I'd driven him home many times in the past. As we started driving Jerry immediately passed out. As we drove along, I realized I was hungry, so I pulled into a McDonald's drive through. That's about when Jerry woke up and grabbed me screaming, You said you knew where I lived, I don't live here!!!!

Lunch was great, it was like an old timer's lunch meeting. When I walked in, the bartender said, "Hello Mr. Fisher" and his voice was familiar, but I had no ideas who he was. I tried buying some time, admitting that I almost didn't recognize him. The truth is, I didn't have a clue. That's when I realized it was young Pat, a kid who used to work at the old Polo Lounge, back then Pat was about 24. Pat was back working for the same guys at Eli's and his son, Pat Jr. was our waiter. His son was about 27. Pat was the guy that got me interested in Steven King books and I started with "The Stand". Thousands of old thoughts came back to all 4 of us and naturally the conversation went to who died and who was doing well. We had all about quit drinking and smoking by now, except Jerry who drank about 4 beers and held a cigarette and a lighter in his hands the entire 3 hours we talked. He only put them away long enough to eat his clam chowder, then took them out and wanted to excuse himself to go outside and smoke, but the conversation kept him involved.

Many years ago when I first moved to AZ, I worked with Dave. A neighbor and I opened a place on Cave Creek Rd called Cave Creek Sales. We sold cars and campers and did service work. Dave worked there when we bought it and he kind of came along with the property. He was a hillbilly from Iowa, but got pretty good at the car business and somehow made a good living. One night, my wife and I had a fight and I told her I wasn't coming home. Dave offered me a place to sleep on his couch, being a single man (and straight). When we got to his apartment in Sunnyslope, I noticed that the bathroom door was missing and only covered by a blanket. When I asked what happened to the bathroom door, he told me that he used it as a front door. so naturally I asked what happened to the front door and he said it was stolen! Humph, made perfectly good sense to me, but I still slept with one eye opened.

We sat there reminiscing for about 3 hours when it seemed like we'd all had enough. Jerry immediately lit his cigarette and choked on it. We all exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together again, but you know how that goes. Jerry took my number with enthusiasm, when he learned I had an active retail dealer's license. It seems he's got some trucks and nowhere to put them. Maybe we can all come out ahead?

Another Nail in my Coffin...

2011-03-02T18:19:00.000-08:00

I got a phone call from Chase Bank again on Friday. It was from the same lady that I'd spoken to the third or fourth time I tried to get my dentist issue resolved. Here's what I attempted to do. I contacted the governing agency that governs over Chase Bank in hopes that someone of authority might come to my rescue and see the injustice that is taking place.

I refer to the $3500 that Chase Bank insists that I owe them to cover the amount they forwarded to Ralph Lloyd Juriansz in payment for a fraudulent dental diagnosis. He prescribed a dental plan for me, then skipped out with my money and really did poor work where he even did work. All of the teeth that he worked on, now need to be removed and replaced with false teeth, that by the way I'm avoiding by doing nothing. But nothing won't last long and eventually I'll lose all the teeth in question. Not what I had in mind when I handed over $3500 to this crook.

So when the crooked dentist skipped out, Chase reversed their decision and determined that I still owed the dough, but they did waive the interest which to me represents acknowledgement of guilt. Why would a bank forgo interest unless they thought I was right?

So I contact the governing agency, which by the way again, was not an easy task. No one wanted to claim ownership or responsibility for Chase. Finally after weeks of researching it, I found the correct party and sent a long typed letter, going into detail of the atrocity. What do you suppose they do after 3 weeks? They forward my letter to the same woman that I'd already spoken to, to resolve my issue. This woman, whose first name is Jessica, has strict instructions from her higher ups, to get rid of me. To do whatever it takes, short of waiving the owed amount to quiet me down. I called finally on Tuesday and our conversation goes something like this. First I ask her NOT to interrupt me while I'm speaking, because she likes to do that and let me at least finish my story. She says nothing, so I begin. At some point she blurts out that there was nothing saying the work done was inadequate by the replacement dentist I went to after the first one abandoned me. I asked her if she actually read the second dentist's letter that I had supplied to her. she said, yes. Then, as she was really reading it, she said he does say that the work performed by the previous dentist constituted malpractice BUT, he doesn't say how much it would cost to rectify it, which is what Chase uses for guidelines. I stop her and ask, "If I get a letter stating what it will cost to correct the errors, will you side in my favor?" NO, she says! I ask what I have to provide or do, to get their decision reversed and there was a long pause.............. Nothing she said, nothing will reverse our decision! She suggested I get an outside council to look at the case. I know from experience that that will cost a fortune and lawyers don't accept this type of case on a contingency. I then asked why we were having this discussion and she said she didn't know, but she has to resolve problem from unhappy customers. I hung up but might just do the entire thing again, but next time not answer her phone calls, so I'll just keep hanging on her books like the toothless parasite I represent to them... They were only the rear teeth that I would have used for chewing. I really didn't need them. Like hell!!!!

Cute, Thin, Perky and Youthful...

2011-02-28T20:36:00.000-08:00

I don't know if I should be angry or relieved that the madness is over. My membership at Match.com expired and will not be renewed anytime soon. This round lasted for a full year and the quality of the participants has waned considerably. Tonight's encounter was a good example of what happens.

Barbara lists her age at 57 on Match, but when I spotted her on Plenty of Fish, she listed it as 61. Being a numbers guy, I immediately smelled the proverbial "RAT". I decided to share my find with Barbara, thinking this might be a way to get acquainted. I wrote to her on Match and mention that I liked her better on Plenty of fish, because she was closer to my age there. She wrote back that she lies about her age because men my age won't go out with a woman 61, thus she claims to be 57. She assured me that when she speaks with the perspective date, the very first thing she tells them is her true age. (I wonder).(Now you see what's happened here. Because she has lied, now I'm doubting everything she claims!)

We eventually, after emailing several emails to one another, I spoke with her on the phone. She was cute and charming and I'd go so far as to say alluring. I was all pumped up about our date for this evening. We were supposed to meet at the Westin Hotel Keirland for cocktails at 5:45 PM. I'm always on time, but for some reason today I couldn't find the hotel easily and called right at 5:45 and Barb answered and told me she'd be in the entrance way watching for me.

The one thing that I want to stress, is that I told her that I really didn't care how old she was, as long as her pictures were accurate and she once again assured me they were recent. Now is it just me, or does this girl look to be in her late forties, possibly 50 and the oldest, okay 52? I'm only posting one picture, but in others she has listed, she looks cute, thin, perky and youthful. Skipping the "youthful", I'll accept the rest. I had to park about 2 city blocks away from the Westin, not knowing their valet parking was free, plus I'm driving a Toyota Corolla with crank windows, come on.

I whistled all afternoon and asked LJ if my hair was okay about 3 times. I was really looking forward to my date tonight. When I finished the 2 block trot to the hotel front door, I immediately spotted this old woman standing there smiling at me. Now take another look at her picture. Try moving all of her facial features DOWN about 1/4 inch and add a sagging throat and about 35 to 40 LBS in unwanted weight. Subtract perky, because perky no longer is a viable word for Barbara. Voila!......... My date!!!

The Car that Wouldn't Leave the House...

2011-02-27T21:10:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time in a land called Phoenix, there lived a car. It was a 1997 Buick Regal GS with a supercharger. It was a special car, as it looked like all of the others that were used primarily by the older crowd, but this car was special. It had the hard to find supercharger which made ever so quick! The year was 2003 and the car became available for sale, at a wholesale lot that the current owner frequented. The current owner, let's call him Mel, took it for a test drive and fell head over heals in love with this renegade car and so he bought it. Mel and the Regal became quick friends and romped and played all over the city streets and particularly liked getting out onto the open highway where Regal could feel free and play with all the other cars. Regal and Mel were fast becoming a "couple". One day about a year after Mel and Regal met, Mel was introduced to a 1985 Red Corvette that held a special attraction to Mel and was quickly acquired. The flashy Corvette boasted of a low mileage of only 42K, in spite of it's age of almost 20. That was in 2004. Regal was sadly kicked to the curb.

The years passed and although Regal was still part of the fleet and really not offered up for sale, she was isolated and left to her own devices. Upon Mel's retirement, Regal was asked to leave the fleet and find happiness with possibly another family. It's been over a year now, that Regal has been on the open market and although she gets many lookers, no one ever takes her home. Is she pouting, is she hopelessly in love with her current situation? I cannot answer that, but every time someone comes around, Regal develops a new ailment. Late last year she was almost sold when she developed fuel pump issues and complained until I bought her a new $500 fuel pump. Today a gentleman was coming over and no sooner do I inform her that she's going to have company, her power steering starts howling. I'm starting to think that she's trying to sabotage me with these misc. complaints and issues. I wonder if they have a Match.com for Buicks with an attitude!

Date Night.........Blech!

2011-02-25T20:03:00.001-08:00

First, while getting ready for my so called "DATE" this afternoon, I got an email from an old friend that said, "Wayne Kohl died a few months ago". I immediately called Chuck to verify that it was true. He said he wasn't sure, but that's what he'd heard. Wayne had a heart attack and died right on the spot he was told and was just passing along the sad news. Wayne was quite a character and lead an interesting life, although I kind of lost track of him in the early 90's. I did stop to see him once around 2006 and he had opened the pawn shop on bell Road at 26th street. I never had the occasion to see him after that. I googled his name and came up with a mortuary and learned that he died on his 68th birthday, October 9th. He will be sadly missed.

So I continued getting dressed for a meeting with a lady named Susan. Susan is 61 and a NYC transplant. She's only been here 4 years and lives in Troon, a pleasant area of North Scottsdale. She is semi retired from the interior design business and specialized in decorating large office type buildings. Susan wanted to meet at a place she referred to as the Pita Grill. I couldn't find it when I tried to locate it on the Internet. She said it was in Desert Ridge Shopping Center, but Google placed it at 20 street and Indian School. Susan called me as I was on my way, fighting rush hour traffic, on the 101. She yelled into the phone that it's called the Pita Jungle and of course that made more sense. When I arrived, right on time at 4:30, Susan was nowhere to be found, so I took a table at the front of the restaurant and noticed that the roar of the place was awful. Everyone that had just gotten off of work for the weekend was sitting there just screaming at the person next to them. There seems to be a constant ROAR!

I looked around the room and decided that the only person to possibly be Susan was an old woman sitting with who appeared to be her daughter and "IF" she was Susan, I was going to sneak out unnoticed. I did the cell phone trick. I secretly dialed her number and waited to see if the woman answered her phone. It rang, she didn't move......... whew!
Just then Susan walked up to the table and smiled and said hello. It's funny how you know instantly if a person will work for you or not and sadly, it was NOT! Susan was short, dumpy 5'2" and plump. Her face was showing the labors of her age and for whatever reason, she reminded me of possible a friend of my grandmother's

I tried to be pleasant and enjoy a couple of hours away from the house, but Susan spoke under the roar and mostly I just nodded as if I could actually hear her. I suggested we get out of there after an embarrassing appetizer of 2 small shrimp with a saucer called Shrimp Aho. Not even the jumbo ones! Just 2! I paid the check and she sat there as if a guest, no offer of half, not that I'd take it, but its nice for a lady to offer something. She was parked right by the front door and she offered to drive to another place that was quieter. I was willing to go home and call it a miss, but she seemed hopeful. Ah, what the hell, I got in. She drove a Toyota convertible, cute red car. Little did I know that I was taking my life into my hands.

While driving through Desert Ridge, she disclosed to me that she's only been driving 3 years and that being from NYC, there was no reason to drive a car. While we chatted, I noticed that she drove right through 2 different stop signs and never even attempted to slow down. After the second one, I mention that she's blown 2 stops signs and she slamed on the brakes, as if to make up for them. The car behind us skidded and voiced him complaints as he drove past us. He too had a New York accent! She reminded me of when I took my step daughter driving around a parking lot to learn how to handle the car. Only the kid had better control! That's when I yelled, I'm DONE! She was startled and looked at me. I said, look! The dates going fine, but rush hour traffic is not the place to practice driving. How about taking me back to my car and we'll do this another time (we won't). She said, "You sure"? I was SOOOO sure!

Somehow we made it back to my car, where she parked right in the middle of the shopping center and and no one could pass from either direction. I reached over and tried to give her a little kiss goodbye, but felt a soft moooshey set of lips and again my mind went reeling back to my Bubbe (grandmother) who could suck a golf ball through a straw with her powerful lips...

The date was over and I'm afraid, so is Susan...

Oh My Beloved Medicare...

2011-02-22T16:39:00.000-08:00

As I sit here today, a mere 6 days before Medicare, I come to you appreciative. My last known health insurance payment was $800 a month for limited coverage after going a full year sans insurance because of extreme cost with limited benefits. Starting 6 days from now I'll have all of the benefits of the luxury insured for a mere $110 a month. A mere pittance compared to some costs. At some point with Cigna, I was getting poor coverage with discount doctors for $1300 a month when tragedy struck almost minutes after reducing my premium by $300 a month to a 80/20 program. That cost almost crippled me financially but I prevailed. Dumped my expensive money pit of a house and rented a small version of reality. That was a year ago and now I find myself residing in the unused portion of a friend's house that's also suffering from our labored economy. Let me not drift away from my topic though. GOD BLESS MEDICARE!

The Dating Scene and Me...

2011-02-17T20:23:00.000-08:00

My membership on Match.com is about to expire, about the same time I feel my inclinations about dating have, so it's perfect timing. I'm not sure if they push your profile as you come to the end of your time or if the Gods have looked down upon my unfavorably, but it seems I've attracted the bottom of the barrel. Either the ugly or the obese or the worn out, but they're coming my way. One lady whose screen name is Rubbish. How in the HELL do you chose a name like that, really? She wrote to me tonight that every time she feels like cheering herself up, she re-reads my profile and laughs like a hyena. She went on to tell me how she snorts through her nose, but I'm feeling a little nauseated tonight, so I won't continue. Not a pretty girl :( Right before Valentine's Day, I was bombarded with interested counterparts that seemed to fade away with the holiday. Others wrote and called and when I returned the calls and left messages, they never returned my calls back. Either way with about 10 to chose from, they all disappeared. One in particular insisted on making a date with me for the day after Valentine's Day, Tuesday. She was from Brooklyn, NY and sounded like someone that got here perhaps yesterday, full New York accent. It had been 4 days since our 2 hour conversation, when she had told me of the 3 men that gave her diamond rings recently. I suggested we sell them, but she continued to talk about herself. I texted her on Tuesday afternoon to confirm that she was still going to meet me at 5:30 and her reply was, "Who is this"? I guessed she wasn't coming! I still belong to the free ones like "Plenty of Fish" (home of the misspelled word), but seldom look there.

The Lovely Jules and I have settled into a pattern. I'm still waiting for the dust to settle around here. My moving mess still is prevailing in the garage, where I have commandeered the entire 3rd car position for my boxes of........"stuff". We've agreed to move the things I have in storage to that garage, since there doesn't seem that there will ever be a chance to put a car in there. In fact yesterday I placed an ad in AutoTrader for the SUPERCHARGED Buick Regal GS, that I've been saving for 8 plus years, but it seems that I'll never get around to enjoying it. Hell, the first time the Red 85 Corvette got driven in over a year was on the way over here!

My friend Barry in Florida asked me how LJ and I were getting along. Here was my reply:

You know the feeling when you tell your wife of 20 years that you want a divorce and you're moving out, but you can't move out for awhile?

He said, "Yeah, that's horrible and COLD.

I said, "That's the feeling"!

No, I'm only kidding, but anyone that thinks that friends can just move in together and everything will fall into place, may be mistaken. Like anything else, it takes a little "fine tuning"...

Dawg Tawk...

2011-02-12T10:42:00.000-08:00

So when I get home yesterday, the "flatmate" is gone. I really don't understand how she got the name "flatmate" because these days, she's anything but flat! She ran off for a weekend rendezvous with someone up in the high mountain trails of this great state. Last known destination Prescott Valley. On my computer there are precise instructions on how to handle both the dog and myself. There was an email. She had prepared 3 separate meals for Paws and purchased a T-bone steak and a frozen lasagna for me to fill the hungry hours until her return, sometime perhaps late Saturday or early Sunday.

Honestly, I like the alone time and it gives me a chance to do anything I want, without imposing. For example, today I'm going to change the oil on my car, since the garage is all mine for the weekend. Here lies the problem though. There's always a problem, isn't there? Paws, showing his deep and thorough love the his master goes into a hibernation phase and will not come out of his closet! He pouts and literally gets depressed when Julie is gone. As I write this, he is laying there all dejected and rejected and all of the other jecteds! He has not come out of his closet in 20 hours now! I'm worried and thinking kidney failure, heart attack, catatonic depression has taken over him. I texted LJ at about 9 AM, but no reply. She has one of those smart phones that goes dead every 5 hours, so I'm not suspecting anything but that, unless she's fallen off the mountain, her usual routine. Last week she fell down a flight of stairs trying to photograph a statue of Jesus and only stopped limping in time for this trip.

Okay, because I didn't finish writing my post, the end is good. LJ finally called, apologizing for not calling sooner and gave me the secret words to use on him. She said, "Ask him if he wants to go for a walk"? I did that and nothing happened. I left the closet and no sooner did I arrive in the kitchen, when I saw him waddle out the bedroom door to go to use the yard for a bathroom. All is saved in the lingering life of Pawpaw! He came back inside and looked at me as if he was expecting a walk. I dazzled him with a portion of pre-prepared steak and chicken in a KFC gravy. He ate, farted and headed back to his closet. Whew, crisis aborted!

Stress Test...

2011-02-09T10:21:00.000-08:00

Today I went for a stress test. I have to do one every year or so. It's named well, because it's very stressful. If you've not had one, first you're given an IV and they leave it hanging out of your arm. You constantly worry that you'll leak out all your blood, but it doesn't happen. Then they take ex-rays (pictures for 15 solid minutes and you have to keep your arms over your head and cannot move a muscle or the session is done over. (very uncomfortable position) Next your given something to drink and it mixes with the IV and you wait for 30 minutes while old people with walkers drag their asses around the room watching a cooking show on TV. (Very interesting). Finally, they call you and your attached to a machine with 200 connections, but first they shave your chest without warning. (They skip this phase on some women) Next you're introduced to the treadmill and you make friends at a very casual pace, however you soon find out the treadmill is your worst enemy, when suddenly it turns on you. (Glad I sold mine) In total, your on the killer treadmill about 7 1/2 minutes and my heart rate got up to 152, a new personal record, but I thought I was gonna vomit. Then I got dizzy and scared, while the tech kept saying, "You sure you're okay"? I replied, "I was fine till I started this crap"! Then it was back to the waiting room, but I missed out on the final recipe for cookies and will never know what to do with my yeast. Forced to drink more water, excuse myself to the rest room, come back in time for more pictures. So it's off with my shirt again, back on the table and another 15 minutes of listening to nothing, while my arms are aching over my head and going to sleep on me. "Ding" and my 15 minutes are up and it's back to the waiting room where suddenly there are interesting people discussing rattle snake bites. The bitch comes and gets me again and this time it's for my echo-cardiogram, basically an ultra sound of your heart. They smear you with Vaseline and some cross dressing butch with a crew cut and a chin beard discusses life for another half hour. You're done! Four hours total.

Living in a Closet...

2011-02-06T10:11:00.000-08:00

Paws is the private pet of the Lovely Jules. He has been her pet for going on 20 years. In dog years, he's older than dirt. He lives a very simple lifestyle within the confines of LJ's closet. Don't misunderstand, as it's a palatial closet spanning to about 8 X 8 and is scented with the afterglow of perfumes and aromas of days gone by. Paws sleeps a lot, but gets up to eat and poop and enjoy the pleasures of a stroll. I'm told he still plays on occasion and just enjoys being the kind spirited soul that he is. He swims almost everyday, but needs help out of the pool. He knows not to swim when the Mercury is low like it is currently.

Last night, Paws came out of his closet, wandered into the family room, where I sat on my recliner watching a 48 Hour Mystery, looked at the couch where LJ usually sits and knits while she watches whatever is on TV, he turned and started towards his closet when he suddenly stopped, stooped and peed! He's done this twice now when he looks for LJ and she's not around. Evidently he get frustrated that she's out and rebels by literally getting pissed! After, there is no ceremony, he just goes back to his little dog cave, the closet.

Last night the Lovely Jules went out with a girlfriend. I stayed home and chatted with ladies online and otherwise filled the evening with various things. I read until about 2 AM and dozed off. At about 3 AM, worried that LJ still wasn't home, I exited my room, saw the lights were still on in the family room, turned, stooped and peed on the floor and went back to bed!

Mr. and Mrs. Richard Elderly...

2011-02-05T14:44:00.000-08:00

Computer Desk $250

Yesterday at about 10:30 AM, I got call from a gentleman about my computer desk for sale. From his voice and inability to take directions, I thought him to be in his 70's. When I began giving him instruction on how to find where my storage locker is, he said to hold on while he fetched his wife. She was in charge of taking directions. She was a pleasant woman and I told her how to find the place, as she was coming from quite far away. East Mesa, for you locals. She said she'd see me tomorrow morning around 10:30. I figured certainly someone would call prior. Last night was one of those nights that I could not fall asleep no matter what side I flipped to and flipping, I did often. I actually think I was up all night long. Until about 6 AM, anyway. I did fall asleep around that time and promptly at 11 AM, I jumped up, grabbed my phone and saw that I had 3 messages. First it was Mrs. Elderly saying they were on their way and were at Chaparral and the 101, and would see me in about 30 minutes. Message number 2 was from Mrs. Elderly saying they got off the 101 too soon and would probably be another 20 minutes. Call number 3 was from Richard Elderly, saying they were at my storage locker and no one there knows me by the name of Mel and since they don't know my last name, all they can do is wait and am I on the other side of the fenced in area waiting for them? I wanted to answer, "No, I'm still in bed"!

Now the question is, what do I do? Go back to sleep, that I really wanted to do. Or do I call them and see if I've blown it completely, or am I just in time. I called and started with the apology of the century. My phone never rang, I forgot to turn the ringer on this morning and if they were still there, I could meet them in 30 minutes??? Mrs. Elderly answered and said they COULD go to McDonalds and have breakfast??? I suggested the egg McMuffin and flew from the bed to the shower. I got in only long enough to wet my hair and my memory and ran for the tooth brush, still dripping from cold water. Fifteen minutes of my precious 30 were used up as I started the hair dryer. Bam, it was yesterday's clothes and as I was running out the door, LJ said she made coffee, do I want a cup for the road. No time, I yelled as I grabbed a bottle of water and flew out the door. As I exited at 7th Ave and the 101, I checked my watch and I was 1 minute away from my destination and 1 minute was what I needed. I got caught by the light at Union Hills and that wasted my last precious minute, but I could see the lot was empty from there and had they just decided to teach me a lesson? I pulled in and parked and call the 612 area code and was prepared for someone to either not answer or answer and ask me how I like being stood up? Instead, it was Mrs Elderly saying they were just pulling out of McDonalds and they'd be there in a minute. Sixty seconds later the red truck pulled in and they were as nice and friendly as could be.

They followed me to the locker and got out and hmmmed and hawwwwed and finally said, "It ain't worth no $250, but I'll give ya $175 for her".... Being the fast thinker that I am, I thought, I'm only asking $200 and this poor guy thinks it's $250! I grabbed my chin and said, "Tell ya what I'll do. Since I was so inconsiderate and making you call me so many times, you can have it for $200". He reached his hand into his pocket and came out with 2 one hundred dollar bills. Sold, he said as we negotiated it into his red truck.

Now, he had a 1 hour ride back to the trailer park where they were staying and I had 10 minutes to get home and take down that ad, before he came home and realized he paid the full asking price. I sped home and found my ad and to my surprise, I WAS asking $250, who knew??? Humph!

Eskimo Girl Grilling...

2011-02-02T20:10:00.000-08:00

It seems that the rest of the country is suffering from exceptionally inclement weather, but it doesn't seem to bother us here in sunny Phoenix, AZ. Our high today was only 44 degrees and the coldest it's ever been on this date, ever and the 11th coldest day in the history of weather record keeping, but that didn't bother us either. Above is a picture of the Lovely Jules shivering her ass off, as she prepares dinner for Paws and me.

Left to my Own Devices...

2011-01-30T19:58:00.000-08:00

"SOLD"

So here's what happened today. After sleeping an amazing 11 hours, I awakened to the shower making the noise that showers make, when it's not you using the shower. I looked at the time and it was 10 AM, precisely. I brushed my teeth and made a pot of coffee, when Julie came into the kitchen, said good morning and reminded me that I had promised to buy her a nice thank you breakfast. She really did break her neck, helping me orchestrate this move. A couple of eggs over easy was a low price to pay for her expertise.

As promised, we came home and I began the tedious task of making the pool table available for a game of pool. It currently had 35 years of my clothing laying upon it. That's kind of a funny way of describing the pile the movers created, but that's exactly what it was. 35 years of birthdays, and Christmas's and Halloweens and Valentine's Days. Plus tons of stuff I just bought for myself. Most of it hasn't been worn in years. Some were too big and most were too small. They all had to go! Without playing favorites, anything that had a pleat or never looked good or had a stain that wouldn't come out. Some things had never been worn, like the purple dress shirt and tie that some crazy woman gave me one year for my birthday or the tank top I bought once, just to talk to the cashier at a store. Out, you go!

Julie took off to go hiking and left me alone for the afternoon. It was a nice day. I enjoyed the solitude too. At about 12:15 my phone rang, something it hasn't done for a couple of days. It was a guy calling about my roll top desk. I explained that it was indeed still for sale, but I had already moved and it was tucked away in my storage locker. My storage locker turned out to be 5 minutes from where he lived and 15 from me. He was pleased to drive over. I was asking $200 for it and the money sounded good after paying the movers to help me. I arrived at the location right on time and he wasn't there. I called him and he assured me he was 5 minutes away still. Thankfully, he did show up in a 4 wheel drive pick up truck, always a good sign when you're selling furniture. I opened the sliding door and looked inside that mess and audibly announced the F word. The mother was buried deep inside in it's final resting place. Let's call my buyer Buck. Buck said it was not problem and began moving furniture to get to it. It was my 400 LB Oak wall unit that should have burned up in a fire, that gave him the most trouble, but it created desire on his part, to finally free the roll top desk. He did a bunch of hmmming and ummming and finally said, will ya take $150 cuz there's another one just like it for $125 and he actually showed me the ad that he had printed and sure as shit, there was one. Thinking fast, (something I seldom do anymore) I said, I should probably pay YOU a hundred just to take it. (threw him off balance) and I finished with a, $175 will take it though. He reached in his pocket and gave me the cash. (Don't try this at home).

We lifted the desk into his truck and he was gone. When I got back to the house, I looked for Paws to tell him of the sale, but he wanted nothing to do with me and I still had that lump on the pool table to deal with. So it was back to work, when suddenly Paws appeared from his closet where he lives in LJ's bedroom and he searched for her. When he didn't see her, and in spite of the fact that the sliding doors were both wide open, he stood there and peed where he stood, as if to say, I'll show her for leaving me with this jerk! Somehow, I felt like I was in trouble. I've got a lot of splaining to do when Lucy gets home!

Moving Day

2011-01-29T17:15:00.000-08:00

Moving day brought a warning of an early arrival. The movers insisted upon arriving at 8 AM against my better judgement, but were determined to get me out of bed at the ungodly hour of 7 AM. I haven't seen 7 AM since I was a member of the work force. LJ phoned me promptly at 7, at my request, but I was already in the shower. I called her back and explained that everything was under control (or so I thought). That was about when the movers called to explain they were running late. 8:45 was now the estimated time of arrival. So much for an early start. My previous move went without a hitch, so I was more than pleased to use the same movers, but this duet were not as ambitious as the 2 guys last year.

Vince was the brains of the outfit and his sidekick was a rather plump boy of about 20 years of age, Kevin. I got to know more about Kevin than I ever planned on knowing, but he was one of those kids that wore his pants too low and his butt crack and I got way too familiar. Julie even remarked about it. They were slow, clumsy and not too creative. Vince decided to be the comedian and told me jokes at $75 an hour. Not one brought a legitimate laugh.

The Lovely Jules showed up about 9 AM and went on a donut run. Moving was stressful and it didn't help that the movers left 2 truck loads of my things at the old house when they announced they were ready to go to the storage locker, our first stop. I should have checked. They unloaded and once again Vince took the lead and showed Keven how a real mover works, on my ticket! Second stop. Julie's house and by now we were heading towards 2 PM. More unloading and more confusion. It was like trying to fit 20 LB of sand in a 10 LB bag. Kevin the klutz unloaded all of my clothes onto the pool table and the picture I took gives you a general idea of what it's like around here. My job tomorrow is to attempt to put all of those clothes into 2 little closets. I guess I'll be visiting Goodwill with a rather large donation.

Moving Eve...

2011-01-26T19:33:00.000-08:00

On this eve of the day before moving, I realize that I've married women with less forethought than I've given this move. Is it my age or position in life that concerns me, or the fact that I'm stressing over selling and giving away half or better of my possessions. When a marriage breaks up, you lose half of your things. I'm losing my stuff up front and getting a Costco wife and I'm pretty sure that's not the same! I've been living alone for about 9 years now and living with the Lovely Jules is likely to shake things up a bit. That won't be a bad thing. So we both go forward, stressing the way that people that are used to having their own way do, but everything is going to be just fine because frankly, it just feels right.

As I picked up my ironing board and put it into LJ's truck that I've had all week, I knew she'd say something about her already having one, but what was I supposed to do with mine? When I got there, LJ helped me unload and when she got to the ironing board, she did just what I expected, almost word for word. I just explained it was for the garage sale! It will be fine, you'll see!

The Nigerian Project...

2011-01-23T21:36:00.000-08:00

With all of my efforts on Craig's List, placing ads everyday and waiting for the phone to ring. Dealing with the people that text "Is your "Item" still for sale" and you reply yes and hear nothing in return, I only got one single call that amounted to anything and finally, 36 hours later they showed up. All six of them. It kind of went like this.

When I awakened Saturday morning, there was one missed call that didn't leave a message. About an hour later, I was sipping coffee and decided to call the anonymous caller and explain that I got a message that he'd called. He answered and I immediately identified him as a youthful Hispanic, about 22 years old. A demographic that I rather enjoy dealing with. To get rid of me, he said he'd call me in an hour when he's ready to come out and see the bedroom set I'd advertised. I had no expectation of ever hearing from him again. About 3 hours later, the kid called again asked for instructions on how to find me, as he and his lady friend were coming my way. I gave him instructions and he and his girl appeared about another hour later. He was a tall youthful African-American man, about 22 and very polite and she was a Caucasian girl that never pushed herself away from the table in time. Cool, my first inter-racial couple. They were both very pleasant and I enjoyed their company for a few minutes, when he announced that he was doing a little front work for his aunt that was the real buyer, but she would take his word for it, that everything was quite nice. My own experience with people, is that when they spend a lot of time explaining why they are going to come back another time, you NEVER see them again. Human nature. As much as I liked this couple, I never expected to see them again. They were supposed to call me about 7 PM when Auntie got home from work. The call never came. Today, at about 10 AM, I replaced my ads because that's what you have to do on Craig's List and was relaxing from my full week of packing. At about 1 PM, I got a call from an elderly woman explaining she was the aunt I had been waiting for, but she would call me later to tell me when she was coming. After the Bears/Green Bay game, I looked at the clock and thought of her and decided she wasn't coming. At about 5 PM, the 22 year old Nigerian lad that I mistook for Hispanic called and said they were about 30 minutes away.

He didn't say he wanted to look this time, but he expressed himself by saying he wanted to "pick up" the bedroom set, so I was busy emptying the drawers and stripping the sheets and bedspread. They arrived, sans the chubby girl, about 6 of them. All very nice, all from Nigeria and all as pleasant as could be. One lady, an MD expressed herself very well and seemed to be the family leader. She was the negotiator. I felt that to explain my background in used car sales to be counterproductive, so I picked up my transient cat and pet my way to non-negotiating. How in the world do you get tough with a humble man petting a kitten? They caved and paid the asking price, but I offered them my old 27 inch TV that I remember buying in 1987. It worked fine, but did have a hand crank.

About that time, another of the ladies announced that she just bought a house and it's completely empty. She made the mistake of asking me what else I might consider selling. I pointed out the solid Oak wall unit that I bought when Columbus discovered this great land and the Oak table with the four Oak chairs, the tan leather sofa that the dogs somehow spared. a rocking chair that I haven't sat in since Brad was a baby. Each item the lady counter offered on and after the first time, I realized it was just her game and I didn't have to come down a penny. I stood firm and she kept saying, "I'll take it"! It was fun!

Someone called a friend with a truck and I almost got them to take the cat, but they backed out at the last minute. The little lady that did all the buying is supposed to call me in the morning to make arrangements to pick up her stuff. I hope she calls, I really liked them.

Escapee Apprehended in Glendale Parking Lot...

2011-01-22T19:45:00.000-08:00

Paws is the Dude on the right.

Today was a sort of exciting day for this man, who seems to have been moving all of his life. I arrived at LJ's house with a load of kitchen plants, the contents of my kitchen junk drawer and the flying bitch, a statue that has been on one plant shelf or another for the past 20 years. She now sits at the side of Julie's swimming pool looking anticipatory. When the Lovely Jules left my old house yesterday, she looked into my freezer and spotted 2 packages of frozen spare ribs that she swiftly carried out my door, looking back and saying we'll have ribs tomorrow! As the door slammed closed, I believe I yelled, "Okay", but she was already on her way home with one of my leftover car lot cars.

As I walked in her kitchen door, I distinctly smelled ribs cooking and found LJ sitting in our 78 degree sun chatting on the phone with Professor M. I didn't ask, but could tell by the smile on her face. Pawpaw was sunning himself in what will eventually be my room. Paws is about 20 years old and looks as old as any dog I've ever seen. He seems to have aged quite a bit in the last year or so and can just barely make it around the house. He wobbles and falls a lot, but still has the attitude of a young pup and still goes into the pool on a regular basis, even in the colder weather. I laugh as Julie tries to lift him out of the pool, the only part he can't quite do himself.

I unloaded and chatted when LJ got off the phone and listened to her events of the day. I was kind of doing my own thing when Julie came running into the garage asking if I'd seen Paws, he's gone! Gone, I said, where did he go? Dumb question. Julie was frantic looking everywhere. She leaves the service door from the garage into the backyard open a lot and I had the garage door open and when Paws saw his chance and no one was around, evidently he just sneaked out. LJ was freaking out! She hopped into her truck that I had just finished unloading and took off looking for him. Not knowing what else to do, I jumped into my car and drove off in the opposite direction to search. I got about 5 blocks and surmised that Paws probably couldn't make it any farther than that and I circled back. As I returned to the house, I saw Julie pulling into the driveway and yelled, "Did you find him"? She nodded yes and hopped out of her truck. She yelled that she found him down at the Safeway Shopping Center about a mile away, just laying on the sidewalk, watching traffic pass by. He evidently fell and couldn't get back up. That''s when I noticed that LJ was bleeding from her hand and leg. I asked what happened and how she got hurt. Looking up from lifting that 100 LB goofball out of her truck, she smiled and said, "He put up a fight"!

Someone Stole My Box-o-Booze!

2011-01-19T18:13:00.001-08:00

If you've been reading this blog, then you're probably aware of the fact that I'm moving out of this dump. I rented it under duress while searching for an entire day for suitable accommodations. I picked it quickly, but never really liked the neighborhood or the house. I particularly disliked the home owner that I rented from. He was just one of those engineer types that had zero personality and a full beard. Big fat fucker too.

If you've been following my life in any possible way, you are probably aware of the fact that I'm a recovered alcoholic. I say "recovered" because I was left a shadow of my former self, lying on a hospital gurney, after open heart surgery. It was on that gurney that I decided to completely stop drinking alcoholic beverages in any way shape or form. It will be 6 years since I made that decision, in a few days, Jan. 23rd.

So when I moved into this dump, I took all of the alcoholic beverages in my house and put them in a cardboard box and stored them in the garage. It felt kind of nice knowing that the booze was out there, yet had no control over me in any way. Proof is that I never noticed when someone, without permission, entered my garage and stole my box-o-booze. Whoever took it, made an excellent choice, because including all of the junk I've stored in boxes, that was my most least proud possession. Actually, if I had found the box in question, my intention was to throw it all away anyhow, creating one box less to move.

So, to my most recent thief, I thank you!

Stop Thief !.!.!

2011-01-18T20:42:00.000-08:00

If you're a lion tamer or a shark wrestler, chances are my day wasn't terribly interesting to you, but to me it was ............different. My plan was to get a new battery for my Toyota, as that's the car that LJ is most comfortable driving when I borrow her truck, which she has been gracious enough to loan me on a regular basis for my move. The battery in the Toyota is not really acting up, but it just doesn't seem perfect when you go to start it and I suspect that it's time is about up and I'd hate for it to crap out when LJ is using it.

So I headed over to Costco, remembering that the battery for my Corvette was only $54, so the battery for a Toyota ought to be about free! Well, a couple of years has passed since I'd bought the Corvette battery and I was surprised to see that the price for their number 3 rated battery was 69 smackeroos! But it wasn't all that easy. If you know the layout of Costco, you know that the batteries are way at the back of the store, just before the bakery section. When I got there, they were gone! All, just gone. With a puzzled look on my face, I approached an employee and inquired and he said they put them in the Tire Store up front. Naturally, only about 2 blocks away! As I trudge on forward to the front of the store, I realize that the tire section is in the very entrance to the store and it isn't accessible from anywhere but the entrance, which is not available to patrons that are already inside the confines of the store. With 2 loafs of bread in my cart, along with a new book by Nelson DeMille, I approach the woman that checks your membership card to ask permission to walk out of the store, to walk right back in, to go to the Tire Store. With a very serious look on her face I am denied! She explains that she is NOT allowed to permit anyone to do that. I tell her I'm gonna make a run for it and if she wants to, to call 911. With that, I bolted out the door and right back in and looked back at her and said, I warned you! With a rather soiled look on her face, she turned and continued checking membership cards. She'll NEVER mess with the Fish again!

After a rather messy installation, that I won't bore you with, I finally got the mother into the Toyota successfully. I called the Lovely Jules and warned her that I was coming. she told me that she cooked for me a few little things. She greeted me and I carried a few things in and LJ helped. Julie has not stopped eating in about 2 weeks and boasts a 126.9 weight. I suggested that we take our pictures now and a year from now, just to see how we got that way. She made us a couple of chicken and cheese Pinnini sandwiches and we watched a few minutes of a movie, before I made my leave. She handed me a large plastic bag that contained pasta a meatballs, a Caesar salad with home made croutons and dressing, complete with buttered garlic bread and some kind of apple cake that was to die for. I think I'm gonna like living with the Lovely Jules!

January 17th Again...

2011-01-17T15:31:00.000-08:00

Well, it's Martin Luther King Day again and it's the day that every year I bore you with, in 1991 I had my first hair transplant, on this day and in 1987 I married my second wife, and on this day and in 1988 I gave up my most awful habit of all, smoking the dreaded cigarettes!

As I write this, that rotten cat is asleep in my favorite chair. I just threw him out once and he clawed me, but when I opened the garage to do some work on my car, he sneaked back in. Oh well, when I move, he's definitely not getting the new address!

Here is why I felt so compelled to write today, this holiday of sorts. Yesterday, I borrowed the truck of the Lovely Jules to move some things to the storage locker and also some of my garage belonging to Julie's garage. She made room for me. She helped me unload the truck and I marveled at her agility for a woman her age, as she jumped off the bed of the truck, not even interrupting her sentence. Wow!

I mention that I didn't know what to do with my beloved patio set, that I've had for so many years. I believe her exact words were, "put that piece of shit on Craig's List for FREE!" It appeared that I was the only one that loved that piece of shit!

So today, in addition to putting it online for FREE, I advertised my two or three other bedroom sets on Craig's List. The ones that I put online for money went on easily, but every time I tried to put the patio set on for free, it wouldn't accept it and would just erase my efforts. On the 5th try, I was about to just give up, figuring it was a sign from God, it accepted it... I turned off the computer, and headed to the restroom, but never got there. My phone rang. It was a woman that lived about 6 blocks away that said she had a truck and the desire for my patio set, as well as a strong husband. Before I could say, come and get it, the phone beeped indicating a new call. I excused myself and it was another taker and before I was able to give the first lady my address, there were 5 more calls! When I finally listened to all of the voicemails, there were 7 to deal with and my phone kept beeping. Within 10 minutes, lady number one arrived with a truck and a huge husband. He lifted the glass top and hoisted it over his head and we all carried out the remainder of the set, as my phone continually sang it's song. I turned it off for the first time ever! After the first couple left with my patio set in tow, I cancelled the ad and listened and deleted the 15 or 20 messages. I also got one call about a bedroom set, she's going to call me back after work..........maybe!

$107.50

2011-01-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

Today I rented a storage locker, my first ever. In and of itself, that's not terribly exciting, but what it triggered were thoughts from long ago. The storage locker was $100 per month and I'm required to have insurance for $7.50, creating a total of $107.50. That was the cost of my very first apartment that I rented when I was just a boy, moving out for the first time.

The year was 1965 and I had just returned from New York from a training program for the job I had just secured. I was the local rep for Illinois, Indiana and Wisconsin for Gaslight Slacks. I lied and told them I was 26, when in truth I was only 19, but in those days they didn't check into things like age and took you for your word (which was not too accurate). Really a different time. I was 19 and thought I knew everything. It was a Friday around 5 PM when the phone rang and my Mom answered it. I heard her say, Mel and then hung up on the caller. I asked what that was about and she explained it was one of my tramps calling here. Innocently, I asked how she knew it was a tramp, if she never even asked who it was? She said, "If she's calling you, she's a tramp"! I knew then, that if I ever wanted to get laid, I'd better get my own place! That was what you called a defining moment.

I called my buddy Dave Levee and asked him if he wanted to get an apartment with me and he said, sure. It was on. I grabbed the newspaper and found an apartment, now get this, that was on the entrance to Edgewater Cemetery. There was the cemetery entrance gate, then a block of buildings and at the end of that street was my apartment building and a big cemetery. Now that I think about it, I was with Dave, my buddy and we both agreed it was pretty cool. I signed the lease and paid them the deposit and Dave was reluctant to join me, but I was hell bent on moving out of Mom and Dad's. Dave never did join me, except for the times he wanted to use my place for romantic dates. Some friend, huh? Another thing I think back about, is the fact that neither of my parents were interested in looking at the place before I rented it. I was 19 and literally on my own and about to move to a cemetery! I had that place for a long time, met my neighbors and hung around this ghetto neighborhood and drank beer with the locals. I had a great job that was earning me gobs of money and things were good. I remember trading in my 65 Catalina convertible and buying a brand new 1967 Chevy, Malibu 396 convertible, with a 4-speed and low geared rear end, all black. I had several girlfriends and kept pretty busy. I worked, traveled my territory and partied. I decorated too. I decided that every bachelor pad should have a Japanese Rock Garden, so I searched high and low for the necessary components. I built it out of bricks and put it in the corner of my living room. I had little Japanese statues and big white paper lamps, all filled with red bulbs. It was quite a sensation. I would pick up girls and invite them back to my pad, to see my Rock Garden. It worked!

My friends and I hung out on Chicago's Rush Street and partied at the world famous Whiskey A Go-Go, where girls wore go go boots and danced in cages. We were actually "regulars"! One day I met a girl and we got married and became responsible and started having babies, but I'll still get a chill when I hear one of the old songs!

Let This be a Lesson to You!

2011-01-13T11:27:00.000-08:00

If you've been following my blog/life at all, you'll know that I was almost impregnated by an unscrupulous dentist, a Dr. Ralph Lloyd Juriansz DDS PhD. He screwed me to the point that there is no coming back. I'm not the least bit reluctant to mention his name out loud and often, to save someone else from his demented wrath.

When you engage the services of a professional, there is a certain amount of trust involved. It never occurs to you that his intentions are not legitimate. This is the case with Dr. Ralph Lloyd Juriansz. I had a doctor's appointment with an internist in the same office complex and sure as shit, he's flown the coup. There is another doctor occupying his former office. This was already told to me by the Arizona Board of Dentistry, when they called and informed me of their decision in my favor.

When Chase Bank sided with the good doctor, I realized their decision was based upon who they could collect from. That would be me, since the creep is gone, took the high road to nowhere land. I contested their decision and wrote to the Federal Reserve. This is the regulatory agency that regulates Chase Bank. Frankly, this was not an easy task, as no one admitted to being the correct agency. I finally just wrote to all off them. About a week ago, I got a call from a Jessica Jones from Chase Bank and she informed me that the case was assigned to her and that she'd be in touch with me soon, with a new decision.

Today the call came. although I was busy, I stopped what I was doing (frying eggs) and sat down to relax and enjoy the reversal of decision. But it didn't happen. Although she was poised and polite, the fact still remained that the bosses told her to side in their own favor and that I still owe the $3500. She mentioned several times that Chase was just the lending vessel. As a consolation prize, she offered me the $3500 loan at 0% interest, for the balance, until paid off.

Honestly, when I contacted the Federal Reserve, I was expecting them to organize the investigation and not give back to the exact people that I'm having a problem with. That shows me that Chase Bank is more powerful that the Federal Reserve! The next time I apply for a credit card, it's going to be from a Mom and Pop outfit, but certainly not one of the big ones that are too big for their britches!

Flatmates...

2011-01-11T19:53:00.000-08:00

For the past 4 years or so, there has been one person in my life as a constant. When the phone rings at about 11 PM, I usually know without looking who is calling. When a mechanical thing in her home stops doing what it's supposed to do, sometimes I get a call about that too. Recently her HOA was hounding her to cut some vines, and my shears are already in my car. When my computer quits computing, she's number one on my list of people to call about recovery services. Whenever a problem arises that I don't want to deal with on my own, she takes charge of the situation. I'm talking about the Lovely Jules, who by the way is responsible for me blogging.

When she saw me going through the trials and tribulations of finding a new residence, she came up with a solution where I could live in a spacious home with a $5 farting dog. She suggested I move in with her! At first we both thought that would be a disaster. We are two people that are pretty set in our ways and like in the case of Superman, we should never upset that delicate balance of history or nature. But the truth be known, we get along remarkably well for 2 people of opposite genders, that are not romantically involved.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. For the past 4 years we've been there for each other and now we'll really be THERE for each other. So the announcement that I'm making in this post of "Things I've Left Behind" is that the Lovely Jules (LJ) and I will from now forward, be FLATMATES, <-------Julies choice of terms. God help us!

Who can Tell White from Wong?

2011-01-10T18:38:00.000-08:00

A very interesting day took place today. Here's the deal. With my new insurance company, United Health Care, I am required to have a primary care physician, whether or not I want one. This individual's job is to distribute referrals for other doctors that you may indeed need. In my humble case, I need a cardiologist and a kidney specialist. I made an appointment with both of those doctors and each in turn responded by telling me that my referral expired and I needed a new one. I contacted my primary care physician and only to find out that she no longer sees patients and only works out of the hospital. I asked my Kidney specialist for another PCP and he referred me to his friend, a doctor Simon. After much to do, I finally reached Dr. Simon's office to find out he doesn't take my insurance. Back to step one. I called my former PCP's office and asked who they were referring my former doctor's patients to and she replied Dr. Wong. Do I want to make an appointment with Dr. Wong? Yes please, I replied and I need it right away, because my appointment with my cardiologist is on Tuesday, tomorrow. She agreed to make an appointment for today. I met the infamous Dr. Wong today, but I could not help but use the title line to introduce myself. After cracking the office door, a young lady said to me, "May I help you"? I said, yes, I'm here for my appointment, my name is Mel Fisher and I have an appointment with Dr. White. She said, you mean Dr. Wong and I replied, "I NEVER COULD TELL WHITE FROM WONG"!

My entrance was a big success and all but a little fat girl thought it was pretty funny and assured me that I was the first to use that line. The little fat girl scowled at me, because that's what little fat girls do and I entered the inner office. You know, the office that terrible things happen within. After meeting Dr. Wong, a rather slight, youthful man, we chatted and I was out of there in about 20 minutes. He told me I was due for a colonoscopy and I assured him I'd be doing that in the near future, OUCH! He agreed to send out my referrals post haste and we were soooo done!

Thank You to Sherry!

2011-01-07T13:52:00.000-08:00

I walked out the front door today, something that I seldom do, and just about tripped over a box that was abandoned there by Fed Ex. Who knows how long it's been settled in on the front porch? My mind went whirling back to a conversation I had with a lady I'd been texting with a few days ago. I was complaining to a lady in the Chicago area about how freezing cold it was here in the "Valley of the Sun". Naturally I was exaggerating the cold, seeing as it was almost below zero there, when we spoke. Our weather threatened to drop to the 40's.

I tore open the box and sure enough it was from her, and along with it was a note explaining that they were out of long johns everywhere but perhaps this sweatshirt might keep me nice and toasty and there was this beautiful navy blue, Izod sweatshirt in a fashion style. What do I say? Well, thank you to Sherry, for worrying about this old man freezing to death in our scary cold weather.

Martha has a BIG MOUTH...

2011-01-07T11:10:00.000-08:00

This post was formerly titled Old Man Rants about CVS, but after Martha's RUDE comment, I thought a name change was due.
Am I the only person that has trouble with CVS and their telephone menu? Here's the deal. I've never used CVS before, but I noticed they had a big drive though location at Tatum and Bell Rd in Phoenix and made a mental note to try them. I think the time I tried them, I was shopping for Musilex for the Lovely Jules when she got a case of the Flu. They were fine or so I thought.

Fast forward, I'm living in an area that is congested with traffic and although there is a Walgreen's close by, it is located in the busy area and to slip in and out to pick up a prescription, makes for aggravation. I also noted that 1/2 mile in the opposite direction is a 24 hour CVS. I transferred all of my prescriptions for blood pressure meds to CVS. One day I was shopping with my Costco wife, the Lovely Jules, when the first experience with them was a phone call from them, saying that my prescription for one of my routine meds was denied. Denied, I asked? What do you mean by that? It didn't have any refills left on it, so we cannot fill it. I suggested they call Dr. Harvey and ask his assistant Harris to refill the order. She said she tried faxing them but got no reply. I explained that sometimes the assistant is busy and he'll get to it, or to call Harris at such n such number, and I gave her the number and ask for a refill on that med. There was a long silence and I asked if she wrote down the number? She said, no you didn't tell me to write it down. I asked if she had a pen or pencil and she said no, to wait. I did and she came back and I slowly gave her the number. Again a longer than comfortable pause and she asked. And WHY am I writing down this number??? OH-MY-GAWD! I explained that she needed to call Harris and I hung up. She never called! Eventually, Harris replied by refilling the fax he got a day later, so all was eventually okay.

Next experience was Dr. Harvey had Harris call in a new prescription for a med. He also gave me a few free samples to get used to trying the new drug. The new drug had side effects that were more than I wanted to handle on a daily basis. Every time I'd stand from a sitting position, my legs would cramp up and take about 90 seconds for the cramps to release, not cool! So I called the pharmacy and cancelled the prescription. The following day and everyday since, I get an early morning message on my cell phone saying my prescription is ready. I tried 3 times now to call and cancel it. The first time I got left waiting on hold for longer than I cared to wait, over 3 minutes and the second time the menu transferred me to the store manager who claimed he couldn't transfer me back and the third time, was the "please hold" routine again! Screw it, they'll get the idea when I never pic up the drugs! Right? Back to Walgreen's...

Creation of a Pest...

2011-01-04T10:15:00.000-08:00

It wasn't long ago that I was writing about the kitty that has adopted me. Now, just a few shorts days later, I'm writing about the pest that I inherited. He seems to belong to the house I reside in. That, or he has made me his natural victim. What started out as a friend acquaintance, has turned into a annoying habit. Don't misunderstand, there are times when I enjoy his company, but seldom will he just relax and sleep or just hang around. He jumps up on counters, something that I would not allow if he were my cat exclusively, but apparently he's developed some bad habits two doors down, where he really lives and got his training or lack of it. Also, when he's not jumping on top of my counters or even my laptop computer, he's standing in one spot kneading on some sort of leather furniture or my own skin. If I allow him on my lap, his favorite place, I have to cushion him with a blanket between he and I, to prevent too much bleeding. Another of his favorite places to sleep, is a lamp table behind my reclining chair.

At some point, about 4 days ago I ostracized him, forbidding him to come into the house. Yesterday, I was grilling chicken and there was no refusing him. He charged the open door and stood there laughing at me, as I worked the barbecue. So Needie is back and as I write this he is outside of my door singing me a song, but mostly begging to come inside. If suddenly you're reading and a word comes out as "rkfg#%^&ukj", it simply means that Needie is walking across the keyboard!

Pictures, 1/3 OFF...

2011-01-03T08:47:00.000-08:00

To the average person, a title that read "PICTURES 1/3 OFF" would indicate a sale on art work, but not here in the world of online dating. One of the funniest things in the world, is for a thin person to explain to a fat person how to lose weight. Sure, I'm a little angry, but nothing I won't get over. The story played out something like this... Before moving along here, I might point out that the error was made by me.

About 2 months ago, I met a perfectly charming lady online that was 52 years old, blond haired with ice blue eyes. She was from Australia and has been here in this country for 9 years. She also possessed a cute accent from down under, a definite plus. After making email contact, she just faded away, indicating to me that she had met someone that was occupying her time. Hey, this just happens. In my dialogue with her, I initially asked if my age of 64 was going to be a problem and she assured me, no. She gave me her phone number and about 8 hours later, I called and got voicemail. I left a civil message and waited for her to return my call. Later I texted her that I stay up late and not to worry if it got too late. Still, no reply.. So I forgot about her. I'd see her online from time to time, but again, that just happens. New Year's Day, I saw her online on a different venue and sent her a New Year greeting and asked whatever happened to her a couple of months ago? Her reply came yesterday on the Jan. 2nd and it explained that she had every intention of returning my call, but her next door neighbor came in, a lady that also is on the dating sights and she mentioned that she had gone out on 2 dates with a Mel and her Mel had a very funny profile too. Not wanting to date the same man, she just let my heels cool. (Women can do that). When my New Year Greeting arrived on Saturday, her neighbor was over having a New Year glass of wine and explained that I was NOT her Mel. So in a hysterical email she LOLed her way back into my favor and immediately called me LOLing even more. Okay, now you've got the background.

So we talk for a full 2 1/2 hours and make plans for a meeting last night for a "meet and greet" at a local lounge. Let's give this lady a name.How about Myrtle? During our 2 1/2 hour discussion, she tells me that her cards are all on the table, no secrets. That is why she posts 15 pictures of herself online. All poses and all positions showing no surprises when her perspective date meets her and she also mentions that she wears a size 14. Not knowing how big a size 14 is, but I know it's not a 6, I reply, "As long as you look like your pictures" and she assured me she did. We hung up and I was prepared for my date with adorable Myrtle. I know you ladies out there are laughing now, because a size 14 is not adorable. But in my mind, I'm picturing Myrtle all cute and petite, just like her photos. In my mind, the whole size 14 thing was a mix up and decency would prevail.

Just then my phone rang and it was my friend Kim calling to see how my New Year was. I told her I couldn't chat, as I was getting ready for my date with the adorable Myrtle and she asked a few questions and her size 14 came up. Kim said, "Oh boy, look out, size 14 is BIG"! I almost got angry at her for insinuating that my date was fat! How rude! We hung up.

I had to drive about 30 minutes to get to North Scottsdale where my meeting was to be and I showed up right at 7, on time. she was a few minutes late. I sat in the foyer of this lounge waiting, as a fat woman approached the front door.OH SHIT!!!!! How could she say she looked like her pictures, when her pictures showed a thin to average lady and this was a porker! As she walked in ahead of me, me always being the gentleman, I couldn't take my eyes off of her giant ass and some of the gyrations it did in accommodating her walk. It kind of looked like 2 pigs fighting under a blanket. We went to a table and were seated and to my pleasant surprise, she was as pleasant in person as she was on the phone. She had discussed that she was going on a diet starting today and she wouldn't be much fun for awhile and I tried to picture her with 1/3 off. After awhile, her cute little "down under" accent got annoying as I couldn't understand what she was saying and had to keep stopping her to ask. Then I realized she had 52 years to lose that weight and she wasn't going to do it for me. I think it was then that I asked her if she might want to get together again and she looked at me and said, no she just wasn't feeling the connection! I had no intention of seeing her again, unless it was to an all you can eat buffet, I was just looking for some assurance. So let this be a lesson to you, fat girls have preferences too!

The HAWK!!!

2010-12-30T14:24:00.000-08:00

I just came back from a trip to the downtown area of Phoenix, on a day when the mercury did not go up in it's normal fashion. What I'm trying to say is, it was frickin' cold! I saw things that I've never seen before and had a hard time getting my 64 year old mind wrapped around it. The thing that stands out most in my mind, was a homeless woman, who I originally thought to be an alcoholic by the red tone to her face, wrapped up tightly in a blanket, sitting on a bus stop bench with clearly nowhere to go. Then I realized she was red because of the severe cold. For us it was blistering cold. My car temperature read it to be 51 degrees, but I passed an outside temperature reading of 48 and that was at 3 PM. Here is another look that you folks in the rest of the country except Florida and Southern California, have probably seen, but here in the Valley of the Sun, we've not had a chance to enjoy until today, are the people that wear a baseball cap and a hoody over it, creating the look of a duck-billed platypus walking down the street! Now that's a fashion statement.

Arriving at my appointment, I opened the door to my car and immediately the wind grabbed the door and sprung it to it's widest possible opening without breaking the hinge. Being from Chicago, a flashback came over me and without warning, I belched out the words, "THE HAWK" is back and after me! The hawk is the name given to the wind coming in off of Lake Michigan, that holds the city hostage for most of the winter months. Not a friendly wind by any means, it waits in unknown areas just waiting to pounce on unsuspecting tourists and take away their breath and hats, all in one smooth gasping motion. No, the HAWK was not a memory of passion, but of terror!

My next stop was to go to the grocery store, but I realized it was far too cold for anything but huddling under a blanket and out of the severe elements. Do you think I've been here in the sunshine too long?

It Finally Came Today!!!

2010-12-29T14:43:00.000-08:00

In 1996, I married a woman. A very charming lady that loved me as much as I loved her. Or so it seemed. When you join lives, certain things become obvious that otherwise would not be noticed. The thing that I noticed was that she literally had no friends. It wasn't because she wasn't a pleasant lady, she was. People liked her when they met her, but she didn't embrace their closeness and otherwise gave them the "deep freeze". I never understood this, but since she was warm and inviting to me, it really didn't effect me. She and her 2 sisters were bound at the hips, along with Mom who developed a 4 times a day calling habit, but only on days she wasn't with Mom, which was way too much for a newlywed.

When it came time to invite people for our wedding, she was at a loss, but filled in with people that worked for the same company that she had worked for, so most of our guests came from out of town. Basically, my friends and family were there and the rest were virtually strangers to both of us. They came from California in a big group, mostly travelling together and when the nuptials were, over they all split.

We lived our lives and about 5 years later, almost to the day, she advised me that she wasn't happy and 12 days later she was gone, lock, stock and barrel. With the exception of a 5 minute conversation initiated by me about 4 years ago, we never spoke and were never in touch................ever.

Getting back to the group that came for the wedding.. The same group of people started sending Christmas cards and as time went by, slowly but surely the number of cards from these strangers stopped. At this point I have been divorced from the lovely lady for 9 years and still, to this day and I mean today, I got the Christmas card that still shows up every year. Now what am I supposed to do? Notify them that the recipient of their card and myself are no longer known to each other or just hope that one day the cards will stop? Last year I almost wrote them a note, but stopped when I realized how awkward it felt. Is there some pride attached to having a long Christmas Card List and these total strangers don't want their list lowered by even one? Or are they waiting for me to return their wedding gift to get their attention? Anyway, if anyone out there happens to know the Edingtons, please tell them to cool it! Thanks...

Ralph Lloyd Juriansz--Dishonest Dentist

2010-12-29T10:29:00.000-08:00

I just got a call from the Arizona Board of Dentistry. First she confirmed that I was indeed who she was calling then progressed to giving me the follow up information concerning my complaint against a Ralph Lloyd Juriansz. The Board found in my favor and some monies in restitution have been found due to me in settlement, however I did not attend the hearing and didn't supply the amount of money that I am inconvenienced by the entire fiasco. However she added a caveat. The caveat was that the good dentist in question took the high road and split. His office in Scottsdale is closed and his residence has been abandoned. Basically he has disappeared into thin air. What the kind lady was telling me was, I can pursue this action and win, however the point is moot because they cannot find dishonest dentist to collect from and he has taken the high road, along with my $3500.

So this story will go down in the archives as one of those "would have, should have" things that clearly explain why you should research every professional that you deal with, but I know going forward that I will probably not do anything differently, but that just me. I'm just sayin'....

*Footnote- I just knew something was amiss when the Chase Bank reversed their decision in my dispute for the $3500. I suspect they realized that "dishonest dentist" was long gone and came after me to collect.

I Wonder if they have Match.com for Cats???

2010-12-24T13:41:00.000-08:00

Well I just got the "down low" on Braveheart. Yes Braveheart, the cross dressing kitty that won my heart a few days ago. Here I was singing sweet nothings to this little girl, when all the while she/he is a transvestite kitty. Yesterday, he/she spent the entire day with me, cuddled up under my arm as I watched TV, only because he/she was asleep and I didn't want to awaken her/him. Kitty, who I had re-named "Needie", since he/she was so dependent upon me, or so it seemed, at some point got a little too gassy for me and hopped off my lap and went to the door. I got the message! About 2 hours later he/she was back for the evening, only to get that prowling look in his/her eye, so I let Needie out again. At 10:30, I was tucked tightly in bed reading, when Needie was at the sliding door again just howling up a storm, but he/she was getting too dependent upon me, so I let him/her howl and about 3 minutes later he/she was gone.

This morning he/she was back, but I didn't acknowledge "it's" presence, but went about my business. At some point I went out to get my mail this afternoon and saw a young lady coming out of the house two doors down. I stopped her and asked if the tan cat that hangs around the streets were hers? She said, no. but it belongs to one of her roommates, another young girl and she told me her name and that she had had Braveheart for many years, since she were a little girl. So much for Needie being neither a girl or youthful. This cross dressing kitty, female impersonator, is no spring chicken either. Just as I was standing there chatting with this lady, guess who walks up to us, not knowing who to approach first. but Braveheart. He takes one look at the situation and walks calmly away, as only a cat can, and walks into the open garage 3 doors down and enters the house like he owns the place. It turns out that Braveheart sleeps around!

Now that I realize what a two timing cat, Braveheart is, I thought I could just go to the pound and get my own kitty, when suddenly I remembered I don't even want a cat!

I Don't Even Know Her Name...

2010-12-18T18:28:00.000-08:00

I really don't know what's wrong with me, but again for the second time in my life, I find myself having an affair. She's cute too. She lives two door down from me, which is better than last time, when she lived next door. I was ashamed then and I'm just as ashamed this time, although it's at least 45 years that have passed since the first. The word adorable never meant anything to me until I met her. It might be love!

Today, she snuck away and spent the entire afternoon with me, checking out my place here. Most of the time she was close to me and sometimes almost intimate. I can't seem to tell her no. She cuddles up with me and sits on my lap and I can't resist her. Oh, the ways the feminine gender have about them. As I mentioned, she resides 2 doors down from my current place, but I'm moving from here and not a minute too soon. That will put an end to this madness. Whenever I walk down to my mailbox cluster, she's out in her driveway with some guy and she doesn't look at me, nor I at her, but I nod to the dude she's with. She just goes about her business like I don't mean a thing to her and it actually hurts my feeling to not speak to her. But it is for the best, I'm sure. Soon this escapade with be over and she can go back to her everyday existence. I'll forget her when I don't see her everyday too.

She just left, I opened the door and she snuck out into the night, to her place. She'll be back tomorrow though. For dinner we split a steak and I found myself feeding her by hand, in that romantic way we do when we're in love.. I'm in deeper than I intended. I thought it would be a few laughs and a little petting, but it's gotten out of hand. I'm going to miss this one, I'm sure!

Correction, Retraction or Some Damned Thing...

2010-12-17T13:22:00.000-08:00

It appears that my obnoxious plea to Qwest was heard by the powers that be and a gentleman named Rich actually phoned me the following day. He was a gentleman and did his very best to resolve my current dilemma. He credited my $69.23 that was created without warrant and asked if there were anything else he could do to satisfy me. I thanked him and he referred me to his website, "talktoqwest.com" in the future if there are any future problems. So it turns out that the squeaky wheel sometimes gets oil. At least it did this time! Now if we can convince Chase Bank to operate more legitimately, it would be a good Christmas.
Mel

A Clear and Present Danger...

2010-12-16T14:17:00.000-08:00

Addy 51

There is a strange phenomenon going on around these here parts and I think it's kind of strange. Suddenly, without warning, I'm being accosted by youthful attractive women. Keep in mind my 64.8 years when reading the word "youthful" as that word can be subjective depending where you got on and where you're getting off! The ages are 47, 47

and 51. There was another one aged 49, whose picture is currently not available. Four is enough for me to create a phenomenon.

Here's what I think is going on. I think these lovely ladies just realized they were going to awaken Christmas day alone unless they make some strong aggressive arrangement right now, thus creating the urgency being displayed. Here lies the problem though. Not a single one of them was able to form an interesting sentence when writing to me. Their emails consisted of one line introductions and some with misspelled words. The one not pictured, a Paula, was a genuine psycho that recently escaped from a loony bin.

One of our ladies, one of the 47 year olds, Lilly had made me a favorite on Match and then went immediately invisible, meaning she hid her profile. One day it appeared on my screen and it was one of those negative profiles, describing how she is really too good for this silly website, but is reduced to using it to find a mate and then went ahead and told of all the things she doesn't like about men. Because it was late and she was kind of cute and little, only 5' tall, I sent her a wink. The next morning there was an email from her waiting for me, saying "What are you going to do, keep on winking until you develop a tick in your eye"? Pretty attractive, huh? I sent her a reply explaining the beauty of Sarcasm and how it should be applied. I'll paste it on here for your reading experience.

How to Win Friends & Influence People.
It's apparent to me that your experience in sarcasm is limited and unaccomplished. Please don't take offense, but sarcasm, like a delicate bird, must be treated like a fine wine. Nurtured and hinted at, without a direct hit. You can never open with sarcasm, as it puts the recipient on notice that there is more to come. But, in fact, it needs to be slipped in like a sharp sabre, unnoticed until you twist said instrument, for a maximum effect.

You are somewhat of a mystery to me, but I'm not sure I want to follow this mystery to the end. Like a moth dancing around a bright light, you flicker in and out of Match availability not knowing where to light. From a distant standpoint, you made me a "favorite", but were unavailable for inspection, then bopped in and bopped out.

So Lilly, What's up with you?

Her reply said she likes to learn something new everyday. Huh, WTF? That was her reply to my delicate, fragile email? I was DONE! She will be alone for Christmas, I'm sure!

The others were similar, yet different but don't warrant discussing here. Addy was sexy and provocative, but left a lot to be desired in her dialogue with me. I guess I'll be alone for Christmas too.

Why is Qwest still in Business?

2010-12-10T15:06:00.001-08:00

It seems that the only way I get my problems with Qwest resolved is to advertise on this blog, about how inefficient they are. I'm a relatively new customer with them, but won't be when I move, hopefully. I don't recall ever having been treated this poorly in past business with similar companies. Cox padded my bill repeatedly, but as long as you police it, they stop. Qwest is just plain dumb! They must not pay very well, because the people working for them haven't been able to figure out the internal workings of their own system. I've dealt with numerous employees of Qwest that were never able to help me in the least, but each and every one of them concluded that problems were solved, only for them to appear blatantly the following month. Here's the deal, Lucille! Every month I get about 2 bills from them. This in itself is wrong, but I pay each one. Sometimes, it's a credit for about 40 bucks and others are a bill for about $50 to $80. I pay them the day that I receive them. Once, I got a bill that said -$40 and paid it thinking it was a bill, but it was a credit. I never got a refund, just more credits, along with more bills.

Yesterday, I got a bill for $69.23 and it was with a different account number that I'd never seen. Now if I pay every bill the day that it comes, how can this be my past due bill? The bill said it was painfully in arrears and if I didn't pay it immediately it would impact my credit adversely, plus they were going to disconnect my service! Oh shit! I called the number on the bill and they said my account was perfect, but they were Direct TV. They gave me the number of Qwest and I talked to about 3 more reps, none of which were the correct department, but still wanted to hear it all. Then they would connect me to another useless employee in another wrong department, until I finally got Jason. Jason would not connect me with a supervisor, in spite of me being on my knees begging, without hearing the entire story once again. After which, he put me on forever "hold", you know the one where they play their brainwashing into your ear, over and over again. Finally Jason comes back and begs my patience again and goes for lunch, I think, because that time he was gone forever and a day! When he came back, I begged for a return call while he does his magic and he agrees and says he'll call me back before 5 PM, but never said which day, because he sure as hell didn't call me back yesterday or today. Then today, Qwest has the nerve to send me a questionnaire asking how Jason did on my phone call yesterday. Jason must have been someones nephew that was higher but got what he deserved, a horrible report from me, because that's exactly the service that I got. Good Day Madam, I said Good Day!

Out All Night Again...

2010-12-09T14:31:00.000-08:00

After a wonderful evening out last night, I drove home on the 101 without having to worry about cops and not worrying about having a hangover this morning and being able to think clearly about the evenings offerings, I don't regret giving up drinking one bit! That's one battle I've won!

The evening started out with me bringing my vacuum cleaner over to the Lovely Jules' home and we headed out to the neighborhood open air market that takes place in the shopping center that Tutti Santi's is in. So naturally after shopping a tad, not me, but Jules, we settled onto their charming patio for a glass of wine. Again, not me, but Jules. I enjoyed a Diet Coke and the environment along with the company. Since there were not another paying customer in the entire restaurant, we had enough service to choke a horse. An army of wait staff brought us menus and water and rolls and butter and I think we felt bad not ordering dinner, so we did. We decided to share one entree, as neither of us were hungry enough to eat an entire meal. The waiter asked if we wanted to split the food ourselves or if we wanted it done in the kitchen, but it was $3.95 more if they did it? Jules yelled, "hell no, not for four bucks!" (I hid under the table). When the laughter stopped we started again, just for general attitude. Our entree came and we split it right at the table, it was wonderful as would be expected for $23.95 for dead chicken. Julie still suffering from a gimp wrist, I did most of the carving. We ate, we laughed, we enjoyed the evening. When I returned from a rest room visit and a short talk with Matao, the owner's son, I found Jules entertaining an elderly gentleman, even older than I. They were discussing her camera that goes everywhere she goes and he was nice enough to take some pictures, as shown on this post. She was pretty busy duruing the time I was in the restroom, as she also, unknown to me, paid the entire check! That NEVER happens to me! So it appears that the Lovely Jules was extra Lovely last night!

When I was leaving I thought to take her old vacuum cleaner with me as they are seldom broken, just clogged up. This afternoon I took her vacuum apart to find enough dog hair to make at the very least a puppy, out of. I no sooner got it all put back together and my friendly neighborhood kitty came visiting, she must have smelled dog. I kind of lost track of kitty as I was assembling the vacuum, but found her all cuddled up in a spare bedroom in a bed that she asked if could be hers. I approved and that is where kitty is right now. In her room all cuddled up in her new bed, as displayed here.

A Chance Meeting...

2010-12-07T19:59:00.000-08:00

I ran into an old girlfriend of mine, an entrepreneur of sorts. She's on the verge of opening a new business and asked me if I'd play Guinea pig for her. We were at a grocery store when this chance meeting took place. If you know anything at all about me, grocery shopping and having your finger nail pulled out with a pliers fell under the same category. Her new business involves buying groceries for people, (she immediately had my attention) cooking it up into meals and packaging it for heating or storage. She made me an offer that I couldn't refuse. She said that if I pay for the groceries and she'll pick them out, she'll cook the food and present it to me in the ready to eat condition. I signed on the bottom line. While she was shopping her little heart out, I heard an announcement over the PA system that said, "FLU SHOTS $12."

When I arrived at the pharmacy section of Fry's, I was expecting a stampede, but was the only one there to get a shot. A pleasant young lady approached me and asked if she could assist me and I replied, "I'm here for the $10 flu shot"... She quizzically looked at me and said, "You mean the $12 flu shot?" I replied, that this was my beginning to my negotiation! She laughed and took my vital information. She asked me if I were allergic to anything and I replied, "Yes, Black Tar Heroine". She was laughing pretty good by the time she stuck me with the jagged, rusty needle! She informed me that I may experience a little stiffness from the shot, as she injected it into my muscle. About an hour later, as my useless arm hung swinging freely from my shoulder, I wondered if she did it on purpose, since I was such a smart ass? That sucker was SORE!

I met my friend at the check-out section and charged $118 on my card. She went home with my groceries and I went home with a sore arm, wondering if I'd ever hear from my lost groceries and my friend again. I'll keep you posted!

Grey Hair is Good on Schnauzers and Men...

2010-12-03T14:27:00.000-08:00

A 53 year old woman named Veronica, made me a "favorite" on one of the dating services and I remained there for about a month, not responding because her gray hair was such a "turn off" to me. Eventually bored one night, I wrote her a cute little note, explaining that I was busy doing brain surgery, when a courier entered the operating room with an important note for me. It said that Veronica had made me a "favorite" and it required my immediate attention. She responded with some "small talk" and it was then that I slyly inquired as to why she didn't color her hair. In her note, she also inquired as to what scared me, thus the response, Kryptonite. I also told her that I lived quite a distance from her in Phoenix.

Her email was so confusing to me that I have just kept it, without replying simply because I don't have a clue as to what she's asking.

Mel,
Hmmmm. I know that there is no such thing as coincidence or accidents. At least that's what I believe to be true. So when I read "Kryptonite" I immediately understood that not only does this guy "get me" but that this guy "really gets me". I've been accused of being somewhat similar to this material. "Force of nature" might be a less toxic quality. Hence my response, "oops". Another one bites the dust. Then, I see your email on my computer this morning. I must confess. You are my first correspondence this time around and I thought, "Oh, no, here we go again." I'm sorry. I shamefully admitted in my profile...this scene is just grueling. This is WORK. Plain and simple. But, I digress. My dear, there are several miles spanning the globe from the San Tan and Denver. Phoenix? Do people really live there? You're my first known. And no, my place of employment is approximately 5 miles from my home.
Mel, you are correct. The real connection occurs beyond this scene. But the only way out is through so on a certain level we need to entertain this form of connection. Fact finding. Red Flag Searching. Resonance. Vibrational and Frequency Similarities. And more.
I chose to discontinue coloring my hair about ten years ago. I come from a long line of Irish whose hair is prematurely grey (mine at 18 years of age). I saw a photograph of a young model with white hair and brought it to my colorist and she said, yes, my hair was that white. I decided at that moment to never again color it. By far, the most courageous decision I've ever made. My sisters counseled me to reconsider..."men don't like women with grey hair, you know". It's okay I replied. If a man desires me or not because of the color of my hair, I'm in trouble.
For this message, let me just summarize a bit. I'm certainly not the one most men desire and are looking for on this site. That I know without doubt. Ironically, I have no drama or any of the sorts of things men write that they despise. But I do come with a unique set of qualities unlike many women here.
Please share yours.
Veronica

Now here is my opinion of grey hair on women. It gives me the impression that they have given up. That they are no longer players in the game of romance. It is a major turn off to me and portrays the grandmother look. If that's the role that they want to play in life then fine, but to try the arena of romance with grey hair is just wrong. Well that ought to generate some comments!

More Bad News from Chase Bank...

2010-12-02T20:10:00.000-08:00

I just got an urgent email from Chase Bank. Sure, when they want to talk to me, I respond. Well they caught my attention by asking if I had authorized a charge to Conn Ed in Michigan for $1394.10, because sure as hell there is one! (I kind of put that in my own words) I put down the Blackberry and went to the computer, as this was going to require a full 17" of viewing space. Yep, it was really from Chase Bank and not some hoax, just trying to get my account information. I clicked on "unauthorized" and that opened an emergency screen. I felt a little like James Bond. It told me to re-click and verify that the charge to the Michigan electric company was bogus and that a representative from Chase Bank would call me in a few minutes to discuss the issue. I clicked and waited, but not for too long, when my cell started playing it's song. I answered, hello. Pretty unique, huh? No one was there, so I realized it was a voice activated recording calling me. It was. It informed to hold for a representative, I did. Here was the bottom line. She asked me what the last thing I bought with the credit card was. A million things went through my mind. Should I tell them that I bought a TV at Walmart or should I let them think the thief bought it? I panicked and blurted out, I BOUGHT A TV! She calmed me down and asked if it was at Walmart? I told her it was. I confessed. Realizing my career as a crook was over when I couldn't even lie to a stranger on the phone, I told her about the Prilosec I'd bought there as well.

She then told me to destroy my credit card and the account was cancelled, due to fraud. I told her that I'd just authorized AT&T to charge my monthly cell phone bill to it and she assured me that it was my problem, but did suggest I contact them. She said they would send me a new credit card in 5 to 10 days and to listen to the message after she hangs up.

By the way, this is the same bank that fell so pathetically short when it came to protecting me from the crooked dentist. They sure are managing to cover their own asses though. That's what I get for shopping at Walmart!

Here Kitty Kitty...

2010-12-01T18:38:00.000-08:00

Everyday, when I walk to the mailbox, a tan cat comes out from under a Chevy Suburban and says hello to me. He or she may live under that car when it's parked there. Occasionally, he or she is in my backyard and recently has started coming in and checking things out. I don't push myself on this cat, as he or she is as elusive as any cat I've ever known, so we seem to have this understanding between the two of us. Let's call her she, since that's exactly how she acts. She acts like every woman I've ever been interested in, evasive and elusive and hard to get. Being rather experienced at this game, I don't want to rush into anything. I just leave her alone to roam around my digs and feel comfortable.

Today I was in my recliner watching "The View", when suddenly tan cat jumps up on my lap and I realize we have crossed a new barrier. She lays on my lap and purrs as I stroke her. Then she rolls over on her back and wants to play, as I scratch her belly. She play-bites me and play-claws me. Then without warning she started using her claws in a rather painful and damaging fashion and I realized this cat doesn't really know the rules. Now bleeding from my wrist and a few places on my upper arms. I kind of insist Kitty gets the hell off of me. I now know Kitty isn't really house broken, thus the Chevy Suburban. I decide to wash a few dishes that are in the sink and Kitty jumps up on the counter and watches me. Again now without warning, she goes airborne and leaps over the double sink to the other side where there are more interesting things to explore. Frankly, I thought that was way cool! Washing my dishes, I kept a corner of one eye on Kitty who was now walking across the stove, confirming no indoor experience.

Luring the Kitty outside, I took my garbage down to the road and swiftly re-entered my yard alone, quickly closing the gate behind me. About 5 minutes later, Kitty was stretching out on my patio sunbathing. I think I'll keep Kitty as an outside friend.

While consuming a cheeseburger for lunch, I couldn't help but notice my big double temporary crown was in the chewed up burger about to be swallowed, when I took it out of my mouth wondering what to do next in my attempt to have chewing teeth. I suspect a new dentist is in my immediate future................again. You can bet I'll check him out BEFORE I use him this time.