"Risin' up, straight to the top. Had the guts, got the glory. Went the distance now I'm not gonna stop. Just a man and his will to survive. It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight."
Survivor - Eye of the tiger
"Guess what today is?" A lifelong friend called me the other day and before I could even say hello, he had a question for me. I thought for a moment, "Hmm, what could be so special about today?" I told him I didn't know what today was. He replied, "Come on now. You know what today is. Just think back twenty seven years ago. It will come to you." I took a minute and then it all came rushing back like a bad nightmare. Today was the twenty seventh anniversary of the notorious 400 meter race at the Eureka Invitational. It's a day I would just as soon forget - but unfortunately for me - a handful of the witnesses to that treacherous event will never let me.
My legs had turned to stone, I was positive my side was going to split in two, the color in my face was dark purple, a nauseating feeling had overtaken my whole being. "God this hurts! What did I do to deserve this pain and anguish?" My thoughts were of nothing more than survival at the two hundred meter mark. The thought of pulling up lame entered my head like a locomotive steaming down the track. "My legs, god I can't feel my legs, my side is going to split, my breath. I can't breathe. Please just let me finish." The limpness that was my body at the time pushed its way past the three hundred meter mark. "One hundred more meters to go! Bulldog pride!" I told myself.
"Clear the track! Clear the track! We still have a runner coming in." The ominous voice of the judge was a mere murmur as I slumbered across the finish line. By then most of the competition were putting on their sweats and rehydrating. I couldn't think, I couldn't breath, I couldn't talk. "Son, you don't look so good. Why don't you sit down for a minute and gather yourself." I didn't need to hear the judge's words twice. I went down on the track like a sack of potatoes.
The few minutes following my collapse are spotty, I remember my track coach standing over me and asking if I was OK. I grunted a little and he said, "He's OK, give him a few minutes to recover," he then walked off. A few moments later I look up with a fuzzy glare and see a couple of my high school chums standing over me and laughing (This was the very moment the story first grew legs) - "Clear the track! Clear the track!" Their voices and laughter were like echoes in my throbbing head. One of them then said, "Goddamn, that was the funniest thing I have ever seen. Clear the track! Clear the track!" They then walk away laughing and leaving me to languish like a varmint that had just been run over on the road.
Twenty seven years is a long time. Think about it. The country has gone through five presidents, a technological revolution, the Red Sox have won the World Series three times...Hell, the Chiefs even won a playoff game in that time span. You would think by now a moment like that would have passed through my friends cognitive thinking. I told him that just before our conversation was about to end. You want to know what he told me? Let me quote him verbatim - "I will remember that day until I die. Seeing the pain and anguish in your face as you crossed the finish line and collapsed. And then hearing the judge yell 'Clear the track! Clear the track!' Shit, that is and will always be one of the funniest things I have ever seen."
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas hears about a tale from the barrio.
I looked at myself naked in the mirror the other day and I came to a sad conclusion. I suffer from the 'dickey doo's.' What's the dickey doo's you ask? It's when your belly sticks out farther than your dickey doo. Anyways, I decided to venture back into the barrio I used to live in and see if I could strike up a few games of handball - it's a good cardio workout- I jump off the bus at Cashman park and the first person I see is my friend Mario. I often refer to him as 'Mario from the barrio.' Nicknaming people, so I remember their names, is a trick I learned a long time ago at a Dale Carnegie course I attended
"Mario, what the hell is going on?" His crew and him were standing around the handball courts drinking 40's and gambling on matches. At first he didn't recognize me, and then it dawned on him who I was. "Wedo, goddamn boy. Where the hell have you been?" (Wedo is a derogatory slang word used by Mexicans to describe Anglo-Saxon males). I told him I was off the streets and living in an apartment around Jones and Flamingo. He then tells me that he has the court next and I will be his doubles partner. After a few matches I was spent. "Goddamn wedo, you need to lose that belly you're carrying around. Your handball game ain't worth a shit." It's hard to argue with a guy when he's telling the truth. He then grabs a couple 40's from his cooler and hands one to me. I thank him for his hospitality and then ask him this, "Mario, it has been a long time since I have been back to the barrio. Have you shot anyone or better yet has anyone shot at you?"
Mario runs a small time crew based mostly around the park. From what he told me, a few years back, his crew and him were run out of Los Angeles, 'Too many fucking vatos in Los Angeles' is how he puts it. Anyways, he decided to set up shop in Las Vegas and from what I gather, if he's not in jail, he does a prosperous amount of business. When I asked him about shooting someone or someone shooting at him, he told me this. "Naw, wedo - the streets have been quiet lately -even though some of the homeys might see a white boy like you and decide they want to take a little bit of target practice." I told him that wasn't funny. He laughed and said, "Wedo, chill out, I am only kidding. I did see something the other night that scared the shit out of me."
When I lived in the barrio - Mario always had a story to share - I told him I wanted to hear it, he told me this. "The other night my homie and me were at Fattie's watching the games, playing the machines and drinking some beers. It was just him and I and a vato and his chiqitia. They were sitting on the other side of the bar. Well, I look up and this puto walks in. I had seen this guy before. He was MS-13. They ain't supposed to be in that neck of the woods. Anyways, he walks up behind this vato and his chiqitia, pulls a gun out from his waistband and starts pistol whipping the vato. It was loco, he was saying in Spanish, 'You talk shit on me I will fucking kill you.' He had the vato on the ground and blood was everywhere. The chiqitia jumped on his back and he threw her off. She got up and he decked her with one punch. She went flying over a table. After that, he looked down at the vato and said 'You've been warned motherfucker!' He then looked at me and my homie and asked us if we had a problem. 'I told him no. As far as I care, you can shoot both of them and it won't make a shit to me.' After that he left."
I asked Mario what happened after he left. Did anyone call the police? He told me this - "Wedo, this ain't suburbia. This is the barrio! If you call the police on MS-13 in this neighborhood. You might as well sign your own death certificate. The bartender gave this guy a bunch of towels and some ice and told his chiquitia to drive him to the hospital. He then threw both of them out." I took a big swig from my 40 and then I asked him if he knew anything else about it, he told me this. "A couple days later I found out that the puto that pistol whipped the vato was his brother. He had heard through the grapevine that he was talking shit and obviously didn't appreciate it. How do you white people say it? Things get handled internally in the barrio." After he was completely through with the story I took another big swig of my 40 and then said this to him. "I bet their next family reunion is going to be a bit awkward." Mario looks at me with a smile and a half chuckle and says, "Wedo, you're so fucking funny."
"Mario, what the hell is going on?" His crew and him were standing around the handball courts drinking 40's and gambling on matches. At first he didn't recognize me, and then it dawned on him who I was. "Wedo, goddamn boy. Where the hell have you been?" (Wedo is a derogatory slang word used by Mexicans to describe Anglo-Saxon males). I told him I was off the streets and living in an apartment around Jones and Flamingo. He then tells me that he has the court next and I will be his doubles partner. After a few matches I was spent. "Goddamn wedo, you need to lose that belly you're carrying around. Your handball game ain't worth a shit." It's hard to argue with a guy when he's telling the truth. He then grabs a couple 40's from his cooler and hands one to me. I thank him for his hospitality and then ask him this, "Mario, it has been a long time since I have been back to the barrio. Have you shot anyone or better yet has anyone shot at you?"
Mario runs a small time crew based mostly around the park. From what he told me, a few years back, his crew and him were run out of Los Angeles, 'Too many fucking vatos in Los Angeles' is how he puts it. Anyways, he decided to set up shop in Las Vegas and from what I gather, if he's not in jail, he does a prosperous amount of business. When I asked him about shooting someone or someone shooting at him, he told me this. "Naw, wedo - the streets have been quiet lately -even though some of the homeys might see a white boy like you and decide they want to take a little bit of target practice." I told him that wasn't funny. He laughed and said, "Wedo, chill out, I am only kidding. I did see something the other night that scared the shit out of me."
When I lived in the barrio - Mario always had a story to share - I told him I wanted to hear it, he told me this. "The other night my homie and me were at Fattie's watching the games, playing the machines and drinking some beers. It was just him and I and a vato and his chiqitia. They were sitting on the other side of the bar. Well, I look up and this puto walks in. I had seen this guy before. He was MS-13. They ain't supposed to be in that neck of the woods. Anyways, he walks up behind this vato and his chiqitia, pulls a gun out from his waistband and starts pistol whipping the vato. It was loco, he was saying in Spanish, 'You talk shit on me I will fucking kill you.' He had the vato on the ground and blood was everywhere. The chiqitia jumped on his back and he threw her off. She got up and he decked her with one punch. She went flying over a table. After that, he looked down at the vato and said 'You've been warned motherfucker!' He then looked at me and my homie and asked us if we had a problem. 'I told him no. As far as I care, you can shoot both of them and it won't make a shit to me.' After that he left."
I asked Mario what happened after he left. Did anyone call the police? He told me this - "Wedo, this ain't suburbia. This is the barrio! If you call the police on MS-13 in this neighborhood. You might as well sign your own death certificate. The bartender gave this guy a bunch of towels and some ice and told his chiquitia to drive him to the hospital. He then threw both of them out." I took a big swig from my 40 and then I asked him if he knew anything else about it, he told me this. "A couple days later I found out that the puto that pistol whipped the vato was his brother. He had heard through the grapevine that he was talking shit and obviously didn't appreciate it. How do you white people say it? Things get handled internally in the barrio." After he was completely through with the story I took another big swig of my 40 and then said this to him. "I bet their next family reunion is going to be a bit awkward." Mario looks at me with a smile and a half chuckle and says, "Wedo, you're so fucking funny."
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas gets diagnosed by Roxy.
"She turned away, what was she looking at? She was a sour girl the day that she met me. Hey! What are you looking at? She was a happy girl the day that she left me. She turned away what was she looking at? She was a sour girl the day that she met me. Hey! What are you looking at? She was a happy girl when she left me."
Stone Temple Pilots - Sour Girl
"Roxy, I can't get you off of my mind. I know that you don't want to be with me, but I still want you to know that I love you and will do anything it takes to be with you." There is a saying somewhere, I can't tell you exactly how it goes. It's something on par with 'a fool and his money.' But it has to do with love instead. Being a love stuck moron who can't take no for an answer is hard, very hard. I have told her a thousand times how I feel. My plan is to wear her down enough so she finally gives in and decides to be mine. Unfortunately, today is not that day.
"Jethro, I have to admit something, you are the most persistent guy I have ever known. Why can't you just move on? Us whores, as your uncle Ned so likes to refer to me as, have a theory about guys like you. You want to know what it is?" Here it comes, whenever she tells me she has a theory or analogy to share about me. I brace for an insult. But hey, I am the one who called her. So I agreed, albeit reluctantly, to hear it. "Jethro, you are what we call 'a trick that sticks.' You want to know what that means?" Before I can tell her no, she proceeds, "A trick that sticks is a guy who you sleep with and then hope you never see again. There is a flip side to it. Every so often they turn into regular, good paying customers. But that would require they have money. So you are ruled out. A trick that sticks, for the most part, is every working girls biggest annoyance."
Stone Temple Pilots - Sour Girl
"Roxy, I can't get you off of my mind. I know that you don't want to be with me, but I still want you to know that I love you and will do anything it takes to be with you." There is a saying somewhere, I can't tell you exactly how it goes. It's something on par with 'a fool and his money.' But it has to do with love instead. Being a love stuck moron who can't take no for an answer is hard, very hard. I have told her a thousand times how I feel. My plan is to wear her down enough so she finally gives in and decides to be mine. Unfortunately, today is not that day.
"Jethro, I have to admit something, you are the most persistent guy I have ever known. Why can't you just move on? Us whores, as your uncle Ned so likes to refer to me as, have a theory about guys like you. You want to know what it is?" Here it comes, whenever she tells me she has a theory or analogy to share about me. I brace for an insult. But hey, I am the one who called her. So I agreed, albeit reluctantly, to hear it. "Jethro, you are what we call 'a trick that sticks.' You want to know what that means?" Before I can tell her no, she proceeds, "A trick that sticks is a guy who you sleep with and then hope you never see again. There is a flip side to it. Every so often they turn into regular, good paying customers. But that would require they have money. So you are ruled out. A trick that sticks, for the most part, is every working girls biggest annoyance."
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas chats with his uncle Ned about his misfortunes with Roxy.
"Who cares what this bitch and her boyfriend said to you. I told you it was a bad idea to fall in love with a whore! Do you remember that?" Why do I call uncle Ned when I am feeling down? Sharing my thoughts with him tends to only make things worse. "Ned, I don't care what anyone says. I love this girl! We are meant to be together. I am tired of fucking waiting! I don't care if I have to go to California and knock the asshole she is with out. I want to be with her!" I tell him with all the bravado I can muster in my tone.
There are a few romantics left in the world. Unfortunately, uncle Ned ain't one of them. "Jethro or Rob or whatever you go by nowadays. Are you really that stupid? Jesus, you need to have your head examined. How long have you been chasing this bitch?" I hate when he says disparaging things about Roxy. I have asked him on a number of occasions to change his tone, he never does - "Look, Ned, I know it looks pathetic to most people. But dammit, when you love someone you love someone," I then go on to add, "There is no timetable. I am positive that one of these days she will come around and realize the two of us are meant to be together."
Ned doesn't buy the hooker with a heart of gold act, and told me so - "Let's sum things up moron. And correct me if I am wrong. You have known Roxy for quite a while, Right?" I nod my head yes to his query, "Now in that time she has fucked just about every guy in Las Vegas and half the guys in San Diego. Am I not correct?" His brutal honesty was more than I could take. "Ned, I know her profession isn't the most noble in the world. But it's Las Vegas. It's not like she is living in Podunk, sipping grape soda and eating fried chicken all day long. Things are different, especially for women, in this neck of the woods,"
After my reply the line went silent for a moment and then he says this, "Hold on, let me flip the channel to the Oprah network. They always have idiots like you being featured. 'Oh my girl doesn't love me anymore' or 'I am a fucking idiot' or 'My name is Jethro and I am stupid.' Goddamn, you would fit right in with the clowns on this channel." Immediately after his statement the two of us break into a few moments of uncontrollable laughter, after it quells, he tells me this. "Brain surgeon, I have better things to do then listen to your hard luck stories. Call back when you want to talk about something other than your shortcomings with women."
There are a few romantics left in the world. Unfortunately, uncle Ned ain't one of them. "Jethro or Rob or whatever you go by nowadays. Are you really that stupid? Jesus, you need to have your head examined. How long have you been chasing this bitch?" I hate when he says disparaging things about Roxy. I have asked him on a number of occasions to change his tone, he never does - "Look, Ned, I know it looks pathetic to most people. But dammit, when you love someone you love someone," I then go on to add, "There is no timetable. I am positive that one of these days she will come around and realize the two of us are meant to be together."
Ned doesn't buy the hooker with a heart of gold act, and told me so - "Let's sum things up moron. And correct me if I am wrong. You have known Roxy for quite a while, Right?" I nod my head yes to his query, "Now in that time she has fucked just about every guy in Las Vegas and half the guys in San Diego. Am I not correct?" His brutal honesty was more than I could take. "Ned, I know her profession isn't the most noble in the world. But it's Las Vegas. It's not like she is living in Podunk, sipping grape soda and eating fried chicken all day long. Things are different, especially for women, in this neck of the woods,"
After my reply the line went silent for a moment and then he says this, "Hold on, let me flip the channel to the Oprah network. They always have idiots like you being featured. 'Oh my girl doesn't love me anymore' or 'I am a fucking idiot' or 'My name is Jethro and I am stupid.' Goddamn, you would fit right in with the clowns on this channel." Immediately after his statement the two of us break into a few moments of uncontrollable laughter, after it quells, he tells me this. "Brain surgeon, I have better things to do then listen to your hard luck stories. Call back when you want to talk about something other than your shortcomings with women."
Saturday, March 15, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas has an awkward conversation with Roxy's boyfriend.
"Hey Joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand? Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand? I'm going down to shoot my old lady. You know, I caught her messin' round with another man."
Jimi Hendrix - Hey Joe
It had been a few weeks since I talked with Roxy. She was pissed at me for a few things uncle Ned said about her. Anyways, I figured everything had blown over by this point, so I decided to give her a call yesterday. "Jethro, goddammit - now is not a good time." Before she could go much further I immediately apologized for the disparaging remarks uncle Ned had made. She tells me this, "Jethro, I am not mad about that. It's just that Jeff and I are working things out and he doesn't want me communicating with you anymore. I need you to respect my wishes." When you love someone, even if they don't love you back, you have a duty to do all you can to protect them. "Roxy, please, this guy is no good. Why can't you lose this bastard and find someone better?" I tell her with a sense of urgency in my tone.
After my statement, I hear a voice in the background say, "Rox, are you talking with that dip shit again? I thought you had gotten rid of him. Give me the fucking phone! I want to talk with him!" She tells me this right before Jeff grabs the phone - "Jethro, you need to move on. The two of us are through!" - I am 99% sure she is correct, but there's always that 1%. "Jethro, that's your fucking name, Right?" Jeff, her boyfriend, was now on the phone and things were about to get awkward. "Only my friends are allowed to call me Jethro, and you ain't a friend. So call me Rob." I tell him in a disturbed tone. I don't like this guy and he don't like me. "OK Rob," he replies, "I want you to listen to me. Roxy and I are together now! Whatever brief history you had with her is over. Do you understand that?"
The two of us were now having a very candid talk. I felt it imperative he understand my thoughts. "Why Roxy is with you is beyond me. You don't love her. She is just another piece of property to you. One of these days she is finally going to wise up and realize that. And I swear if you hurt her!" I didn't want to sound too crazy - Maybe they do deserve each other? Anyways, the prick said something to me right before he hung up that totally sums things up for me nowadays - "Jethro or Rob or whatever the fuck your name is. You know what I am going to do right after I hang the phone up? Let me tell you. I am going to take Roxy and throw her on our bed. After that I am going to rip all of her clothes off and fuck her ten ways from Tuesday. If that isn't a clear enough signal for you to get lost, man, you are just a plain fucking moron."
Jimi Hendrix - Hey Joe
It had been a few weeks since I talked with Roxy. She was pissed at me for a few things uncle Ned said about her. Anyways, I figured everything had blown over by this point, so I decided to give her a call yesterday. "Jethro, goddammit - now is not a good time." Before she could go much further I immediately apologized for the disparaging remarks uncle Ned had made. She tells me this, "Jethro, I am not mad about that. It's just that Jeff and I are working things out and he doesn't want me communicating with you anymore. I need you to respect my wishes." When you love someone, even if they don't love you back, you have a duty to do all you can to protect them. "Roxy, please, this guy is no good. Why can't you lose this bastard and find someone better?" I tell her with a sense of urgency in my tone.
After my statement, I hear a voice in the background say, "Rox, are you talking with that dip shit again? I thought you had gotten rid of him. Give me the fucking phone! I want to talk with him!" She tells me this right before Jeff grabs the phone - "Jethro, you need to move on. The two of us are through!" - I am 99% sure she is correct, but there's always that 1%. "Jethro, that's your fucking name, Right?" Jeff, her boyfriend, was now on the phone and things were about to get awkward. "Only my friends are allowed to call me Jethro, and you ain't a friend. So call me Rob." I tell him in a disturbed tone. I don't like this guy and he don't like me. "OK Rob," he replies, "I want you to listen to me. Roxy and I are together now! Whatever brief history you had with her is over. Do you understand that?"
The two of us were now having a very candid talk. I felt it imperative he understand my thoughts. "Why Roxy is with you is beyond me. You don't love her. She is just another piece of property to you. One of these days she is finally going to wise up and realize that. And I swear if you hurt her!" I didn't want to sound too crazy - Maybe they do deserve each other? Anyways, the prick said something to me right before he hung up that totally sums things up for me nowadays - "Jethro or Rob or whatever the fuck your name is. You know what I am going to do right after I hang the phone up? Let me tell you. I am going to take Roxy and throw her on our bed. After that I am going to rip all of her clothes off and fuck her ten ways from Tuesday. If that isn't a clear enough signal for you to get lost, man, you are just a plain fucking moron."
Thursday, March 13, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas gets told off by his uncle Ned for calling at an awkward time.
I called uncle Ned today to see what he was doing and he answers the phone like this. "Hey man, it's the fucking brain surgeon. Shouldn't you be in surgery doctor instead of bothering me?" Uncle Ned nicknamed me brain surgeon a little while back. I asked him why the nickname and he told me such -"Because that is what you fucking are. You're a brain surgeon." The moniker really started to stick after we got into a heated argument about politics and where things were headed in the world a little while back. Ned is a bleeding heart Liberal while I am a registered Libertarian. I try not to let our political differences get in the way of our relationship, but damn it is hard, real hard.
"How are things going Ned?" Ned isn't in the best of shape nowadays. So whenever I call him, there's always a surreal feeling of maybe this is the last time I will ever talk with him again. Maybe his caregiver will answer and tell me that she is sorry for my loss. Well, fortunately that feeling will have to wait for a later date, because everything seemed fine with him today. "Brain surgeon, I have been thinking about you a lot the last couple of days. And I have come to a few conclusions. The first is that you are a fucking idiot. The second is that you have got to change your game with the women in Las Vegas. It's always the same. They get to know you and then it is adios amigo." Ned enjoys giving me a hard time about always getting dumped, but hey, I deserve it to some extent, and goddammit, it's just nice to hear his voice. It's the voice of a man who has little left to lose.
"Ned, what do you think of KU's chances in the tournament? Do you think they have what it takes to go all the way?" I didn't have much to talk about when I called, so I figured I would just ask him what came to mind. He told me this, "I don't give a shit who wins the tournament, brain surgeon." I then asked him what he had for lunch. He tells me this, "I had a tuna on rye." He then says this to me in a very surly voice - "Brain surgeon, do you have anything important to tell me? If you don't, I am going to hang up. I was in the middle of masturbating when you called." I apologized for the interruption and told him that I would call him later. He then hangs the phone up without even saying goodbye.
"How are things going Ned?" Ned isn't in the best of shape nowadays. So whenever I call him, there's always a surreal feeling of maybe this is the last time I will ever talk with him again. Maybe his caregiver will answer and tell me that she is sorry for my loss. Well, fortunately that feeling will have to wait for a later date, because everything seemed fine with him today. "Brain surgeon, I have been thinking about you a lot the last couple of days. And I have come to a few conclusions. The first is that you are a fucking idiot. The second is that you have got to change your game with the women in Las Vegas. It's always the same. They get to know you and then it is adios amigo." Ned enjoys giving me a hard time about always getting dumped, but hey, I deserve it to some extent, and goddammit, it's just nice to hear his voice. It's the voice of a man who has little left to lose.
"Ned, what do you think of KU's chances in the tournament? Do you think they have what it takes to go all the way?" I didn't have much to talk about when I called, so I figured I would just ask him what came to mind. He told me this, "I don't give a shit who wins the tournament, brain surgeon." I then asked him what he had for lunch. He tells me this, "I had a tuna on rye." He then says this to me in a very surly voice - "Brain surgeon, do you have anything important to tell me? If you don't, I am going to hang up. I was in the middle of masturbating when you called." I apologized for the interruption and told him that I would call him later. He then hangs the phone up without even saying goodbye.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas gets a call from his cousin Sally.
Yesterday, I received a phone call with a 913 area code extension. Usually I don't answer numbers that I am unfamiliar with, but since it had a Kansas City area code extension, I decided to answer. "Hello, this is Rob," after my greeting, I hear a voice from the past say - "Don't you mean Jethro. You fucking moron." Jesus, if it wasn't cousin Sally and all her glory on the other line. "Sally, what the hell have you been doing?" I say enthusiastically. A while back the two of us got into a quarrel and I was beginning to wonder if I would ever talk with her again..
"Jethro, is that what people are calling you nowadays? It sounds like a pretty good fit to me. You always were a goofy son of a bitch...just like Jethro Bodine. Look, I have been reading your blog and it ratifies to me and everyone else how pathetic you are. Why don't you leave that poor girl alone." No hello, no how have you been, no nothing. It was just Sally being her surly self. And in a weird kind of way I missed it - big time. "Sally," I say with exuberance in my tone, "I just want to tell you something. It is good to hear your voice again. Now, I need to tell you this as well. I love this girl! The two of us were meant to be together. I realize the road has been rocky. But nonetheless, we were meant for each other."
Cousin Sally is a spitting image of uncle Ned. So when I gave her the meant to be together spiel, she didn't buy it - not one bit - "Look, you are making a fool of yourself. Let's face it, you're really good at doing that. If this Roxy girl wants you, and I don't see how in the world that would ever happen. But if she really wants you. She will come to you. Jesus, you were always lousy with women and it sounds like nothing has changed." As ornery as she was being, it still felt good to hear her voice. I just so happened to be in the middle of something. So I thanked her for the input and told her I was busy and I would get back to her. She tells me this before she hangs up. "Don't bother, I just couldn't take reading your blog anymore and had to call you and let you know how I felt."
"Jethro, is that what people are calling you nowadays? It sounds like a pretty good fit to me. You always were a goofy son of a bitch...just like Jethro Bodine. Look, I have been reading your blog and it ratifies to me and everyone else how pathetic you are. Why don't you leave that poor girl alone." No hello, no how have you been, no nothing. It was just Sally being her surly self. And in a weird kind of way I missed it - big time. "Sally," I say with exuberance in my tone, "I just want to tell you something. It is good to hear your voice again. Now, I need to tell you this as well. I love this girl! The two of us were meant to be together. I realize the road has been rocky. But nonetheless, we were meant for each other."
Cousin Sally is a spitting image of uncle Ned. So when I gave her the meant to be together spiel, she didn't buy it - not one bit - "Look, you are making a fool of yourself. Let's face it, you're really good at doing that. If this Roxy girl wants you, and I don't see how in the world that would ever happen. But if she really wants you. She will come to you. Jesus, you were always lousy with women and it sounds like nothing has changed." As ornery as she was being, it still felt good to hear her voice. I just so happened to be in the middle of something. So I thanked her for the input and told her I was busy and I would get back to her. She tells me this before she hangs up. "Don't bother, I just couldn't take reading your blog anymore and had to call you and let you know how I felt."
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas gets his ass chewed out by a call girl.
I called Roxy last night to see how things were going and before I could even say hi - she tells me this - "Jethro, I am getting sick and tired of your blog and all the bullshit you put in it. I don't like being called a whore. Do you understand what I am saying asshole?" First of all it wasn't me who called her a whore, it was uncle Ned. I was quoting him directly when I put it in my last post (I am trying to keep things as real as possible). Oh, by the way, she told me a while back the blog was stupid and she doesn't even bother reading it anymore. I reminded her of that and she says, "Jethro, you think you're so fucking smart! You want to know something? You are a needle-dick prick who doesn't have the sense God gave a dog. Why don't you put that in your blog asshole!" She then hangs the phone up before I am able to respond. I call her back.
"Jethro, you fucking asshole! I swear I am going to slap the shit out of you one of these days. How dare you call me a whore in your piece of shit blog. What gives you the right to judge me?" This is how our second conversation began. I then tell her again that it wasn't me who called her a whore. It was uncle Ned. I was merely quoting him. "Look asshole!" She yells emphatically, "You tell your uncle Ned to fuck off. If I ever see him I will slap the shit out of him right after I slap the shit out of you. Lose my number for real this time!" She then hangs up. I call her back.
"Jethro, I swear boy! I am going to beat the living hell out of you if I ever see you again!" This is how the conversation of my third call started. "You don't ever call me a whore! I will beat the shit out of you if you ever call me that again! Do you understand?" Again, I try telling her it wasn't me who called her a whore. It was uncle Ned. She calms for a moment and I tell her this - "Roxy, do you want to know something? I love you more than anything. No matter how mad you get. I love you!" After my proclamation the line goes silent for a few moments - I ask if she is still there. Her response - "Jethro, if you truly love me like you say you do. Why would you let anyone call me a whore?" She then hangs up. I immediately call back. This time the call goes directly to her voicemail.
"Jethro, you fucking asshole! I swear I am going to slap the shit out of you one of these days. How dare you call me a whore in your piece of shit blog. What gives you the right to judge me?" This is how our second conversation began. I then tell her again that it wasn't me who called her a whore. It was uncle Ned. I was merely quoting him. "Look asshole!" She yells emphatically, "You tell your uncle Ned to fuck off. If I ever see him I will slap the shit out of him right after I slap the shit out of you. Lose my number for real this time!" She then hangs up. I call her back.
"Jethro, I swear boy! I am going to beat the living hell out of you if I ever see you again!" This is how the conversation of my third call started. "You don't ever call me a whore! I will beat the shit out of you if you ever call me that again! Do you understand?" Again, I try telling her it wasn't me who called her a whore. It was uncle Ned. She calms for a moment and I tell her this - "Roxy, do you want to know something? I love you more than anything. No matter how mad you get. I love you!" After my proclamation the line goes silent for a few moments - I ask if she is still there. Her response - "Jethro, if you truly love me like you say you do. Why would you let anyone call me a whore?" She then hangs up. I immediately call back. This time the call goes directly to her voicemail.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas chats with his uncle Ned about Roxy,
It had been a while since I chatted with uncle Ned, so I called him last night. The conversation immediately turned to Roxy. "It is always the same with you and these bitches in Las Vegas. You find one you like; they get to know you, they don't want anything to do with you and the cycle repeats itself. Am I not right about things?" Uncle Ned has never been a guy to soft-soap, and that's OK. I needed some brutally honest advice. But things were different this time. "Goddammit Ned! I love this girl and I think she loves me. This is the one!" Ned believes Roxy is nothing more than 'damaged goods' and I would be much better predicated by setting my sites on more virtuous women.
"This girl is a whore! She sleeps with people for money! You are a fucking idiot to fall for a women like that. What would your mother think? I bet she's rolling over in her grave right now. And to add insult to injury. She is shacked up with another guy! She's not even around you! When are you going to wake up? Jesus, it's no wonder your blog is called the village idiot. Because that is what you are." Ned's diatribe was countered by my standard rebut - "I love her and love makes you do silly things." He wasn't buying the love bug story and told me such, "You love chocolate chip ice cream, you love puppies, you love your grandmother....you don't love a whore! Trust me, those are the worst women in the world to fall for. Get your head out of your ass boy!."
Ned ranted a few minutes more and then I told him this. "I know her profession isn't very noble. But it's Las Vegas. To me it is just a business. So her being a call girl doesn't really bother me. Besides, she told me she is doing her best to get out of the business." My statement wasn't true at all. It does bother me that she is a working girl. But what am I supposed to do about it? I then added this to the conversation, "Ned, I believe Roxy and I are destined to be together. It's a higher power calling the shots on this one. Why can't you be supportive of how I feel?"
I should have left good enough alone! When I told him that it was a 'higher power' calling the shots - he really let me have it. "Oh, so now it is a higher power calling the shots with you and every one's favorite pin cushion. Do you know how dumb that sounds? Look, Jethro, I am getting tired of hearing about this broad. And so is everyone else. It sounds like you are nothing more than a punching bag for her. You are just too dumb to realize it. Now before I go, I want you to get this though that thick skull of yours. Don't believe the hooker with a heart of gold story! It's like believing in unicorns. It doesn't fucking exist! Forget about this hussy and move on!"
"This girl is a whore! She sleeps with people for money! You are a fucking idiot to fall for a women like that. What would your mother think? I bet she's rolling over in her grave right now. And to add insult to injury. She is shacked up with another guy! She's not even around you! When are you going to wake up? Jesus, it's no wonder your blog is called the village idiot. Because that is what you are." Ned's diatribe was countered by my standard rebut - "I love her and love makes you do silly things." He wasn't buying the love bug story and told me such, "You love chocolate chip ice cream, you love puppies, you love your grandmother....you don't love a whore! Trust me, those are the worst women in the world to fall for. Get your head out of your ass boy!."
Ned ranted a few minutes more and then I told him this. "I know her profession isn't very noble. But it's Las Vegas. To me it is just a business. So her being a call girl doesn't really bother me. Besides, she told me she is doing her best to get out of the business." My statement wasn't true at all. It does bother me that she is a working girl. But what am I supposed to do about it? I then added this to the conversation, "Ned, I believe Roxy and I are destined to be together. It's a higher power calling the shots on this one. Why can't you be supportive of how I feel?"
I should have left good enough alone! When I told him that it was a 'higher power' calling the shots - he really let me have it. "Oh, so now it is a higher power calling the shots with you and every one's favorite pin cushion. Do you know how dumb that sounds? Look, Jethro, I am getting tired of hearing about this broad. And so is everyone else. It sounds like you are nothing more than a punching bag for her. You are just too dumb to realize it. Now before I go, I want you to get this though that thick skull of yours. Don't believe the hooker with a heart of gold story! It's like believing in unicorns. It doesn't fucking exist! Forget about this hussy and move on!"
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