the paramour...

My buddy Chuck was telling me about how easy it is to pick up chic's on the internet. 

"I'm telling you the internet is the greatest thing since Patrick Mahomes. It's like an all you can eat twenty four hour buffet."

Chuck is better served keeping it in his pants.

"What do you tell all these women when you meet up? Hi, my name is Chuck and I live with my mother."

"That's funny village idiot, I leave that part of the conversation out. I usually tell them I'm a bounty hunter or something interesting. The truth is they don't care. They are there for the same reason I am."

"How many of these women have you hooked up with?"

"More than you can count on all your fingers and toes," is his answer.

The son of a bitch is pushing fifty with no job, money or future. The only thing the horny bastard thinks about is which suburban house wife or recent divorcee he is going to bed next. It's as if he is reliving his twenties again. One problem though. He's fifty!

"Chuck, I envy you in a way. All those women eating out of your hand. It sounds like a hell of a lot fun. How do you keep your stamina? Let's face it you are hardly a young buck anymore."

"Whiskey & Viagra," he proclaims, "As long as you have plenty of both you will be a popular guy in the Ashley Madison world. I also carry a bag of hybrid with me as well, a lot of chic's nowadays are into it, especially the younger ones."

"What kind of hybrid?"

"King Louie is my current crop."

He mentioned in a previous conversation most of the women pay for the hotel room and some even give him money. I asked if that was still the case.

"Not lately, the last one I hooked up with wanted me to pay for the hotel and I told her I forgot my wallet. It still worked out though. I got in her car and we drove to a secluded spot and took care of business. After we were through she dropped me back at my car and we both went our merry ways. It reminded me of my younger days."

"When do you see your next one?"

"Either tonight or tomorrow, this lady from Chicago comes into town every month for business and I'm her current thing. She takes me to dinner and then it's back to the room for some fun. I always leave before eleven because she has to be up early for meetings."

"How long has that one been going on?"

"Four or five months. She is an Ashley Madison babe, those are the best ones to hook up with."

"Why?"

"Most of the women who use the service are well kept. The reason they sleep with a guy like me is always the same. Their husband or boyfriend cheated on them and they feel by being with me they are evening the score."

"Do you ever fall in love with any of them? Is there a wife number six somewhere in the mix?"

"I fall in love fifty times a day. It never sticks though. I'm through with marriage for good. Nowadays I am perfectly content being some lonely ladies paramour on Ashley Madison."

move into mama's...

The other day I got a call from my friend Chuck in Kansas. He recently moved in with his mother:

"Back with mama. She's the only one who would take me," it's fortunate his mother is still around to take him in, if not it would be outside time. I tell him such.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you are the twentieth person to tell me it. I look at it this way, 'Mama enjoys the company & I need a place to live. It's a win win."

"What happened with the 4th?"

"She was the 5th actually."

"Sorry," with a laugh, "What happened between you and the 5th?"

Chuck would be much better served by keeping it in his pants.

"My little head started thinking for my big head again. She wasn't giving it up so I got on Ashley Madison. You can't believe the women out there who are looking for a good time. It's unbelievable."

Think about this for a minute. He's pushing fifty; his fifth wife just kicked him out; he lost his job; he moved back in with his mother & yet his libido, which is his biggest downfall, is telling him to cruise for chic's on hookup sites.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to set a list of priorities?"

"What do you mean?"

"Finding a job, moving out from your mothers. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about."

"First of all," he beckons, "Mama loves having me here. It gives her someone to watch all the Royal's games with. The other thing is there are not many jobs to pick from at this particular time."

"What's the plan? Are you just going to spend all your time cruising for chic's on the internet and living with your mother?"

"Yep," is his answer.

"Are you going to tell all these women you live with your mother?"

"Nope," adding, "The last few I hooked up with paid for the hotel room. One of them even gave me two hundred dollars."

"Get the fuck out of here," he's not much to look at. I find it unlikely a women would pay him to have sex. I tell him such.

"I'm being honest, I swear. After we were through she told me her husband hadn't fucked her in god knows how long. The money was a token of her appreciation."

We chat about the weather for a minute, then I hear someone yelling his name in the background. It was his eighty year old mother letting him know dinner was ready.

"I got to go buddy. Mom made chicken fried steak for dinner."

 

Where is the Bulldog pride?

The other day I called my friend Chuck in Kansas:

"What the fuck Chuck?"

When we were kids it was my standard greeting for him.

"No one has said that to me in years," he proclaims.

"What the fuck Chuck? One more time for good measure buddy."

"How are things going in Arizona? The corona virus get you yet?" Chuck is a non masker and he lets everyone know it, "Do you want to know something village idiot?"

"Sure," is my response.

"When I see all these people walking around wearing a mask it makes me shake my head and wonder how everyone became hoodwinked. It's all a bunch of nonsense. People believe the shit that has been shoveled on them. It's disturbing to watch it all fall apart from nothing more than a flu bug. Think about this for a minute. I lost my job; the wife works at home; the kids aren't going to school; dad is in a nursing home; the mortgage is four payments behind."

He tacks on a few more difficulties to his 'hard luck & busted' story before I politely interrupt.

"I hear you good buddy," a lifelong friend is going through a rough spot and encouragement is key, "This time will pass Chuck. It will. When it does people will be more appreciative of things."

"I understand it will pass. The problem is not the virus though. It's like Trump keeps saying, 'the cure cannot be worse than the disease," pausing to add, "If things don't turn around for me and I mean quick! You are going to see my ass standing on the corner holding a cardboard sign. They are going to starve us out. That's a thousand times more telling than any fucking virus will ever be."

I've known Chuck since we were pups and I know exactly what he needs.,"Woof, woof, woof, woof...Come on man you know what to do."

"Sometimes I wonder if you are permanently stuck in the 80's."

"Come on Chuck," with even more vigor, "Where is the Bulldog pride? Woof, woof, woof, woof."

"Give it up village idiot. Between the two ex wive's, tuition, mortgage, food, car payments, credit cards...Are you catching my drift? Bulldog pride is the last thing on my mind."

"Seriously, it will make you feel better for a minute. I promise. One time for me buddy. Woof, woof, woof, woof. Bulldog pride goddammit!"

"I got to go buddy. The wife just pulled in and things have not been pleasant. Give me a call some other time," he then hangs the phone up.

 

woe is me...Part 2

Uncle Jack called today in order to offer feedback on the blog:

"Do everyone a favor and stop whining about how much money you missed out on in Chinatown? It sounds pathetic. Take the loss and move on like a goddamn man does. You missed, plain and simple. Enough already."

"It was a boat pile of money uncle Jack," he interrupts.

"Yeah, I know, you told me already. Guess what? None of it came your way so live with it and move," I interrupt.

"Motherfucker," with pent up anger, "I'm not looking for pity from anyone. It's just people are starting to fully fathom how much money it was. It was in my grasp and I let it slip away. It will haunt me until the end of my days."

"Give me a break genius, I agree with Fred. If you want to get rich figure out a cure for corona virus. It's too late for you with all those restaurants in Chinatown. You failed on that endeavor!"

He's right, it was a fail. It was the fail of a lifetime.

"All those fucking restaurants you dumb fucker. Your pea brain is too narrow to process it. Let's just put it this way Einstein. It is more money than you and I would have ever seen in multiple lifetimes."

"Woe is me, woe is me, woe is me," his sarcasm evident, "Find a cure for corona virus like Fred suggested. You will make millions upon millions doing that. Lots more than those restaurants in Chinatown would have made."

"Fuck off asshole," I scream into the phone.

"Get a life genius," he replies.

"Fuck off asshole," louder than before.

"Listen genius," his sarcasm thickening to the point of me reaching through the phone and choking him, "You missed! Let me say it again for you. You missed! Please, for the love of everything holy. Move on!"

"Whatever uncle Jack,' with sarcasm of my own, "Just remember this Einstein. If you ever find me face down in a pile of my own filth, rest assured the last thing going through my head would have been, 'all that fucking money I missed out on in Chinatown."

"Get a life!"

"I'm serious uncle Jack. All that fucking money in Chinatown was there for the taking and I missed."

He yells 'get a life' one more time then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

woe is me...

A few years ago I ventured into a once in a lifetime opportunity that was going to make me rich beyond my wildest dreams. It escaped. It's haunted me to no ends since. I discuss my feelings with Fred:

"Did you see what Grubhub sold for?"

"No," Fred answers.

"Eight & a half billion. That's billion with a capital B!"

"So," he murmurs.

"Did you hear me alright? I said billion with a capital B!"

My angst at the Grubhub number is simple. I should've, could've, would've been part of it.

"Do you remember when I had all those restaurants in Chinatown under contract for delivery?"

"Here we go again. You need to let it go..."

I interrupt Fred, "All those fucking restaurants in Chinatown have been printing money for the platforms they serve, the revenue generated by the system has far exceeded my wildest expectations. I was at the beginning of it with those restaurants. There wasn't another platform within five miles of Chinatown! I'm the guy who brought it there and I missed out on the payday. Things would be so much different now if I would have been able to fully harvest them."

"Woe is me, woe is me, woe is me," Fred finds my regrets humorous, "Now maybe you  can go to work on a cure for corona virus. See if you can make your millions doing that."

"I have no idea why you think it is so funny, all those restaurants piled on top of each other, all under my thumb until someone comes in and buys us out. Millions upon millions escaped the family when I was unable to close the deal. I don't think that's funny one bit."

"Woe is me, woe is me, woe is me," the condescending tone in his voice ever more, "I'm telling you right now your best chance of striking it rich is finding a cure for the corona virus. Forget about all those restaurants in Chinatown," adding again, "Woe is me, woe is me, woe is me."

"If you say that one more time I will break you in two."

"Woe is me, woe is me, woe is me," he says in harmony, "Please, it's time for you to get a life. You missed, plain and simple, that's how shit works in life. I don't want to hear anything more about it. It's water under the bridge."

"That was a shit pile of water to go under the bridge," is my answer to his sarcasm, "A whole life changing shit pile of water!"

Love that chicken from Popeye's...

Most evenings I head to my associate Fred's house to walk his dog:

"I got a new nickname for you & Belle," as he opens the front door with the dog at his feet, "Do you want to know what it is?"

"Sure," is my answer.

"I am going to start calling you guys the 'pandemic thirty twins."

I didn't catch it, he explains.

"Between the two of you during the pandemic thirty pounds have been added to the world, thus the 'pandemic thirty twins."

He's lucky my feelings don't bruise easily. I tell him such.

"It's because your belly covers up all your feelings,' snickering at a fever pitch, "Jesus, we are going to have to grease the doorway to fit you guys through it."

I hook Belle to the leash and lead her out the door and to the car. She jumps in the passenger seat. As we pull out of the driveway en route to the dog park, she says, "I'm hungry, take me to Popeye's." She didn't really say that, she's a dog after all and dogs can't talk. I know she was thinking it though, so I set a course for the Popeye's drive thru.

"Is that you again Rob? Do you want me to have them cut the second sandwich into squares for Belle," the kid who runs the drive thru at Popeye's has become a dear friend to Belle & I during the pandemic.

"That would be great buddy. Dr. Pepper for the drink and Belle gets water of course."

"That'll be $16.58 at the window."

We pull to the window and I give the kid the money.

"How's Belle doing today?"

"She's doing awesome," is my answer after gently nudging her back to the passenger seat, "She gets so excited when we come here."

"Here you go. Have a good day."

We don't make it far before her impatience kicks in.

"Goddammit, wait til we get to the park you fucking pig," her nose aggressively pressed against a bag full of Popeye's artery clogging goodness.

She is unwilling to wait. I pull into the TJ Maxx on Meeker, "Here you go girl," as I place a wad of cajun fries in my hand, "Have at it," her portion of fries is devoured in less than fifteen seconds.

I'm able to enjoy a few bites of my sandwich before she insists on hers. One hand fed me, one hand fed her. Five minutes later the fat sack of artery clogging Popeye's goodness is no more. We take a few minutes to digest. Then it's park time.

Upon arriving at the dog park Belle defecates and urinates. The weather is too hot for much time outside, thus we decide to go back to Fred's place.

"It's the pandemic thirty twins back from their walk already," he comments as we waddle through the door, "It's still a bewilderment to me how you two can come back from exercise even fatter than you were before."

the greatest thing since Patrick Mahomes...

It has been a while since I heard from Roxy. I started thinking about her & decided to call:

"I was wondering when you were going to call again. It's been a long time Jethro. It's good to hear your voice," it's her voice, it's her silky, sexy, sultry voice.

"Uhh, uhh, uhh...I love you beautiful," I didn't know what else to say so I say the first thing that comes to mind, "I have been thinking about you more and more gorgeous. Please tell me that you will be my girl."

"Oh Jethro," she sighs, "What is it with you? I'm not going to be your girl. Why do you keep asking the same absurd question?"

"Because I love you sweet thing," is my immediate answer.

"Jethro, Jethro, Jethro," whenever she mentions my name in unison I prepare to be patronized, "What we had in Las Vegas is over now. You know it wasn't built to last," her tone becoming ever more condescending, "You think you can call me up after all this while and ask me to be your 'girl' is so preposterous of you. It's just how I remember. You haven't changed one bit."

I didn't ask her to go on a killing spree with me, I just want her to be my girl...I ask again.

"No, I'm not going to be your fucking girl. Jesus, I knew I shouldn't have answered the phone when I saw it was you."

"Why did you beautiful?"

"It's because I needed a shot of your sappiness I guess. I really don't know for sure."

"Sweet thing," adding with as much sappiness as I can muster, "Let's give it another shot wonderful. You're the greatest thing since Patrick Mahomes. I love you."

"I don't think so," is her immediate response, "You had your chance and blew it. Nowadays, I am with a wonderful guy who takes care of my every need. What you and I had is history. Do you understand that genius?"

She needs more persuading is my thought.

"I can't help it. I think you are the cats' meow beautiful. If there was ever a Ms. Beautiful title you would win it in a landslide. Let's just forget about all the stuff from the past and give it another go around, start afresh. What do you say Ms. Beautiful?"

"Are you hard of hearing Jethro?"

"No," anticipating an insult.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," further anticipating an insult.

"Why is it so hard for you to understand Jethro? It's irritating. For the last time. I am not your girl. We had a thing for a while. That's all it was, a thing Jethro. I know you are a fragile so I am going to be polite. Please do not ask me to be your girl anymore. The very idea is nonsensical."

"Okay, I'm going to give you one more chance to be my girl beautiful."

"Grow up Jethro," she then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

Mad Max being Mad Max...

I was going to leave him alone. Unfortunately, it's turned into an obsession:

"Get a life Mr. Sheep, baa, baa, baa - Do you hear that boy? It's the rest of the mindless calling you to slaughter Mr. Sheep."

Most normal folks say hello when they answer the phone...his obnoxious manner prohibits him from doing so.

"Mr. Sheep, what did you do this grand 4th of July weekend? Don't answer that question. I already know what you did. You stayed home and hid in your basement because that's what a sheep does."

I inform him of the dire situation Arizona is facing with the current pandemic roiling the state & how I feel obligated to do my part in flattening the curve.

"Flattening the curve, give me a break. How's that going for you Mr. Sheep? The culling is here. People need to except it and adjust. The cure cannot be worse than the disease."

I've laughed off his disturbing rhetoric for years, "It's just Mad Max being Mad Max." 

"Look buddy, I just called to see how things were going. You can spare the politics. What did you do this weekend?"

"I've been at the gun range all weekend. It's imperative everything be in proper working condition for when the zombies arrive."

"The zombies," snickering, "You are a funny guy Mad Max. Have you ever thought about hitting an open mic night?"

"You really are a jerk off," he then adds, "Your fat pasty ass will be the first guy to capitulate when containment begins. I can see it now. You'll throw up your hands and yell, 'Please take me. I'm a sheep."

"I'm not a sheep Mad Max. If you would please stop calling me that I would appreciate it."

"Okay Mr. Sheep, I'll stop calling you that. Please tell me something interesting before I hang up on you."

"Hmmm," scratching my chin for a moment, "You know what good buddy? I do have something interesting to share. Uncle Ned actually thought this up. He discovered a new way to test for corona virus."

"Ned did," with surprise in his voice.

"Yep, I'm proud of him. He's thinking about patenting the method."

"What is it?"

"You know how they say your sense of smell leaves you if you have the virus. When you think about this you will realize how genius he is. Every time he farts he falls back into it to make sure he can smell it. He says it's the cheapest way to know for sure."

"That's got to be the dumbest thing I have ever heard Mr. Sheep. Your uncle Ned sounds like a sheep as well," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

Uncle Ned shares his holiday plans...

I called uncle Ned in Kansas today because I had nothing else to do:

"Lookie here boy, I'm telling you right now the whole world can catch fire and all I will do is try an light my cigar with the flames. All your doomsday buddies can kiss my ass, call it cotton candy," Ned's health has deteriorated to the point of no longer being mobile, his mind is sharp as ever though, "Can we talk about something interesting for a change? Enough of this end of the world bull shit. Has your dad kept off all the weight he lost?"

My father lost nearly a hundred pounds in the last year.

"So far, so good," adding, "He's been riding his bike and walking the dog in the mornings."

"No more double cheeseburgers?"

"Not lately," with a laugh.

"What about the dog? Has she killed anything lately?"

Belle, whom we are unable to determine the exact breed at this time, is a pup dad & Sharon adopted a few years back.

"Not lately, she made another move at a bird the other day. I was able to restrain her. She hates coyotes & rabbits as well," the area dad & Sharon live in was built on the peripheral of Phoenix twenty years ago. Thus sharing the subdivision with many of natures finest.

"Do you still see coyotes when you walk her?"

"All the time," is my answer.

"Does she freak out when she sees them?"

"Yes sir, she hates them with a passion," adding, "She goes ballistic whenever seeing one. I'm restraining her so nothing ever happens. It's kind of funny to watch the coyotes. They'll get far enough away and then turn and start glaring at her, just wishing she would break free from her restraints and chase them."

"Goddamn, you make it sound like they're coyotes everywhere."

"Ned, this is no bullshit, they're more coyotes running around these subdivisions than you can count. It's like they're domesticated. Dad says a better word is acclimated."

"Do people shoot them?"

"Nope, against the law to discharge a firearm in city limits. They don't even trap them. You just get use to it after awhile. They're not aggressive toward humans. Although, small dogs would make a mighty tasty treat for them. Belle is too big for them to mess with, thank goodness."

We chat about our plans for the 4th of July.

"What you got going good buddy?"

"Nothing, you?"

"Not jack shit uncle Ned."

feed back from uncle Ned...

Uncle Ned is a fan of the blog. Today I called for some much needed feed back:

"It's Mad Max this; or Mad Max that. He's a nut job! Why don't you try finding something more uplifting than him to blog about. He's just another one of your bozo friends from Madison. Enough is enough, find something else to blog about or I'm not going to read it anymore."

It's good to hear his voice no matter the mood, "Uncle Ned, it's just that Mad Max is crazy and the time he has been talking about forever is finally here."

"What do you mean?

"The culling is what he is calling it."

"Jesus boy, you've got to stop listening to this guy. What the fuck does he mean by culling?

"A thinning of the herd is the best analogy he gave me."

"Enough of his bullshit. How are your dad & Sharon doing?"

"Doing fine right now. He's par for the course on his treatments. I believe they will be over by the middle of September. The goal now is to keep the widow maker at arm's length." 

The conversation turns to politics.

"All the polls show Biden with a commanding lead. It doesn't seem they are giving your idol a chance for a second term."

"He's not my idol," adding, "Mad Max says Trump gets reelected in a walk. I'm not so sure. We shall find out soon enough."

"Okay," adding with a snicker, "I just don't want you to cry if your idol loses."

I remind Ned again Trump is not my idol.

"Whatever genius, I got to get to the Dollar Store before they close. Oh, one more thing before I go. Tell Mad Max he's the one who needs woke," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.