Why didn't you get a prenup?

It's been a week since my last conversation with Roy. I call him today & inquire how the dissolution of his third marriage is progressing:

"She's not being very nice about things right now village idiot," is his first response to the inquiry, "All I can say is she's trying to take more than we agreed on."

"Did you have a prenuptial agreement?"

"Nope," is his answer in a somber tone.

Every time he starts complaining about a women taking all his money I think about his first wife. She was beautiful, funny, smart, caring, hard working...it was true love. When she left him all those years ago people weren't sure he'd make it. 

"You told me all you had to do was split the equity in the house with her. Why the fuck didn't you get a prenuptial agreement? How long have you been married to this bitch?"

"Three years," sheepishly adding, "She said it would be a bad look to the start of our marriage because it gave everyone the impression it was all about the money for her."

"I'm sure she loved you for a minute," adding with little sympathy, "She'll love you even more when you have to cut a fat check. Not getting a prenuptial agreement was a foolish move. She must have been a tiger in the sack. I hope it was worth it."

"It wasn't," is his stern reply.

"How much is it going to cost to make this one go away Roy?"

"Seventy five thousand more than we agreed upon. I don't have a choice in the matter is what my attorney is telling me."

It's going to cost him an additional seventy five thousand because he didn't have a prenuptial agreement with his soon to be third ex wife. Hearing this makes me think of his first wife yet again. She could have cared less about his money; or his lineage. All she wanted was a man who would love her & she could love back. Roy's incessant philandering doomed the relationship. 

"It's sounds like you have no choice; you got to pay if you want to be rid of her."

"That's what my attorney is telling me."

"Good thing your pockets are fat Roy."

the start of an idea...

"How did you get so good at playing the piano?"

"Practice, practice, practice," is Liberace's response:

LaSolana is a community located in the sunny confines of Surprise, Arizona. I have called it home the last two years. I've met many admirable people in my time living here.

"I read your blog the other day Rob. It was awesome. The guy you were talking about who lost all his money on the Chiefs and then his wife left him. I found it relatable."

Craig Monroe, aka Big C, is a retired KCK/KCMO businessman/gambler who called it quits a few years ago. LaSolana is his home nowadays. It was time to share my idea with him.

"Do you ever watch reality shows Big C?"

"All the time," he says in a hearty voice, "Southern Charm is my favorite."

"Tell me if this sounds crazy Big C. I've been doing this blogging thing for quite some time and everyone is being complimentary of it. Now its got me wondering if I can bring it to life."

"What do you mean?"

"Big C, I'm talking about a reality show with a premise revolving around all the old people at LaSolana. It's something I've been pondering for a while & now it is time to see what other people think of the idea."

"Hmm," is his first response, "I don't see why not. People are looking for all sorts of entertainment nowadays. What are you envisioning?"

"Think of it as the pool at LaSolana coming to life," adding, "We find a decent production team to help with filming & editing. I'll script all the dialog & we'll set up shop at the pool. The aim is to cut thirty minutes of quality video highlighting the humor from the patrons at LaSolana."

"It sounds like you are on to something. You're an excellent writer. There's no doubt about that."

I thank him for the compliment & ask, "Are you in Big C? I'm telling you right now you'd be perfect for what I am envisioning."

"I'm in," is his solid response.

I've shared the concept with a number of other patrons at the pool. Most have found it intriguing and have agreed to participate. Keep in mind; it's just an idea at this stage. 

 

it's 75 & sunny in Phoenix...

Yesterday, I was lounging on a lawn chair at the LaSolana pool wondering when winter is going to arrive in Phoenix. The thought is too much for me not to share:

"Miss Kitty, I have a question for you. When is winter going to arrive?"

Miss Kitty is a retired Chicago debutante who moved to the sunny confines of Arizona a number of years ago. She is one of a cache of lovely ladies at LaSolana who enjoy spending time in the sunshine.

"It is winter Rob, soak up as much Arizona sunshine as you can," adding with the wisdom of a well heeled women, "It's one of the free things in life."

While the rest of the country was freezing its ass off; that wasn't the case in Phoenix. It was sunshine & blue skies...I called a friend in the energy business in Texas to rub it in. 

"What happened to the grid in Texas? Why was the state so ill prepared? It was 75 & sunny in Phoenix all week."

Jack & his family have been wheeling & dealing the energy bone for generations. Listening to him is akin to hearing it straight from the horse's ass...he's a lot more informed than some talking head is what I am saying.

"Corruption & greed from all the politicians who were saying things people wanted to hear so they could get elected; or stay elected. Think of it like this good buddy," his Texas charm evident every time he calls me good buddy, "The hundred year storm decided to roar through the great state of Texas & expose it all. Now, the little guy gets to pay the price for it."

"Did the lights go out on you?"

"Thankfully, my neck of the woods was spared?"

It was good to hear him say that. 

"Let me ask you about something I heard on the news Jack. They said, 'The grid in Texas was minutes away from experiencing total failure due to the stress caused by the storm.' The news also said, 'It would have been months before it could be restored. Is there any truth to that?" 

"I can tell you for certain good buddy," his Texas charm more evident then before, "If the whole grid went down & it took a couple of months to restore," pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, "Grab your guns & run to the hills. That is my plan in a nutshell."

No problem with the grid in Phoenix. Like I said earlier in the post; it was 75 & sunny all week.

 

the end of Legend's third marriage...

Roy getting cleaned out by his bookie because the Chiefs shit the bed is not all bad. It served to be the last straw between him & his third wife. I say good riddance man!

"It won't be much. We don't have kids together. It's easy in, easy out on this one good buddy," he is being sensible about the demise of his third marriage, "We are both going to act like adults & head our separate ways. The Chiefs shitting the bed was the last straw for her."

His first wife was the greatest gal. She was an absolute knockout. Roy was too caught up in himself back then. He wasn't the most faithful of guys either. She told him, "good for the goose; good for the gander." It was way more than his fragile ego could handle & it ended badly. He still regrets it to this day.

"I can tell you one thing for sure village idiot. My soon to be third ex wife hates your ass."

"You tell her the feeling is mutual good buddy."

The soon to be third ex wife pins Roy's Super Bowl evisceration on me. She claims I got him too fired up & it made him act stupid. I told her to take take a flying fuck. 

"I want you to promise me something Legend."

Back in the day everyone referred to Roy as Legend...he filled stat sheets; obliterated weightlifting records; broke rims; women wanted to be with him; guys wanted to be him...you get the picture. Nowadays, he's pathetic, downright pathetic.

"Are you listening to me Legend?"

"I'm listening."

"This gal you were with was holding you back. I want you to shake her off & forget about the fucking Chiefs. It's time for you to start acting like the Legend you once were. Do you think you can do it?"

"Dude, I'm trying. I'm too old nowadays. Trying to be Legend is going to kill me..."

"Shut the fuck up," I yell intently, "I don't want to hear any of your excuses. Do you want to be Legend again?"

"Yes, goddammit! I want nothing more. I'm too fucking old," desperation in his voice evermore, "I wish I had a time machine. I'd go back to the Legend days in a minute."

I can see the stress of the moment is taking its toll on him. I back off the Legend talk for a moment.

"So where are you headed now?" Roy's been through the dance a couple of times and always seems to land on his feet; albeit a lot poorer than before.

"We got a lot of equity in the house. She called her sister and we are going to split it after the sale. I'm taking the money and buying a place closer to downtown. I never liked it out in the suburbs to begin with. That was a big part of our problem."

"Okay," I say with a sigh of relief, "You are going to be fine. It's nothing new for you. Once you get settled in your new place we can talk about a few things that will bring you back to Legend."

"I'm too old dude. You've got to stop with the Legend talk. It's going to kill me in the end."

the mother lode slipped away...

The other day I was walking around in circles in the LaSolana pool when I commented to Miss Kitty about how terrible the Super Bowl was:

"There's always next year Rob," her soothing voice from twelve feet away says, "It's not the end of the world."

"I know Miss Kitty," is my response as a smile finally comes to my face, "It's not just the Chiefs getting their ass whipped. My friend Roy decided to bet his entire stake on the game. His wife threw him out of the house because the Chiefs lost."

Miss Kitty is a distinguished lady in her late sixties, she's a gem of a person & always dispenses useful bits of wisdom.

"It sounds to me like your friend has a gambling problem," is her logical response, "Tell him he needs to find a new team to bet on."

"You got that right Miss Kitty. The Chiefs really disappointed me with their performance. They let a lot of people down. What a stink bomb."

"Don't dwell on it Rob, it's over now. There will always another game to bet on."

We chat a little more about the weather and then she asks:

"What was your favorite Super Bowl commercial? Mine was the one with the guy from Saturday Night Live. What's his name?"

"Will Ferrell"

"Yeah, I watch Elf every year with my grand kids. He's a great actor. What was your favorite Super Bowl commercial Rob?"

Everyone bare with me for a moment while I explain a sad situation for me...A few years back I loosely teamed with a guy in Las Vegas on development of a food delivery application. Back then there was low hanging fruit everywhere you turned. A friend of mine who is fluent in both Mandarin & English suggested we introduce the process to the restaurants in Chinatown (there's a whole lot of them). Food delivery applications were in its nascent stage at the time with zero in Chinatown. I immediately signed ten restaurants for the service. The guy I was loosely partnered with at the time couldn't raise the capital to keep me. The truth is I didn't need him & he didn't need me. I was at the start of what is now a two hundred billion dollar a year service. Here is where the story gets sad:

"Miss Kitty I got upset watching a couple of the commercials," a feeling of anger comes across me, "Do you remember me telling you about how I whiffed in Chinatown and now those restaurants are churning out millions upon millions for delivery applications? They could have been under my families thumb, but no such luck. I had no core & it escaped."

"Oh Rob, I know what commercial you are talking about. It's the DoorDash commercial, isn't it? Don't let it bother you. Something else will fall your way," adding in an optimistic tone, "Just think, if you would have been successful you'd be living in some mansion over in Scottsdale & we would have never met."

What a sweetheart she is, still the sting remains.

"Do you want to know what kills me Miss Kitty? I was in Chinatown with restaurants stacked to the ceiling. First guy there by a mile and it still got a way. Now when I see all these food delivery applications with Super Bowl commercials it ratifies how successful the process has become. It's a hard pill to swallow nowadays Miss Kitty."

She sympathizes by telling me a story about how she could of bought Apple at two dollars a share back in the day; but didn't.

"Those stocks nowadays would be worth millions. Don't beat yourself up too much over it."

As sweet as Miss Kitty is...it did nothing to ease the sting.

"It was my one shot in life to hit the jackpot. I yelled it out as loud as I could to anyone who would listen and still laid an egg. Things would be so much different for me now if I would have converted. The scary thing is Chinatown would have been just the beginning. It was a perfect place to scale," shrugging my shoulders & finishing with, "I fucked up Miss Kitty. The mother lode was right in front of me & it slipped away."

"Oh Rob, it breaks my heart when you tell that story. Don't worry something else will come your way."

"I wished I shared your optimism Miss Kitty. I really do."

a Legend gets his ass whipped...

I called Roy today in order to see how things were going after the beating suffered by Kansas City in the Super Bowl:

"Now is not a good time, the old lady is on the warpath," it's obvious the money he lost on the Super Bowl is having an effect on his marital status, "She says it's all your fault that I lost our money. You egged me on is what she is saying. She doesn't like you one bit."

Roy's first wife was a sweetheart. He couldn't keep it in his pants & she had problems keeping her legs crossed. It's too bad because they were a great couple. Now he's married to some gal he met at a bar a while back. I have never officially acknowledged her existence & she mine - until now.

"Give me that fucking phone! I want to talk with this asshole!" A female voice in the background is upset & angry, "Did this dumb fuck tell you how much money he lost on the Chiefs? You are part of the reason he lost the money," it's been a long time since a women addressed me in such an unpleasant manner. Roy's soon to be ex third wife's name is Dana & she is about to get an earful from me.

"Now you listen to me lady! I didn't hold a gun to his head & tell him to bet all his money on the Chiefs. He did that all by himself. He's been betting on games long before you were around sweetheart. I can't help it if he is a degenerate. Don't act like you don't know because you do. I'm telling you right now to lose the attitude."

"Did he tell you how much he lost?" Anger stewing in her voice.

Roy never gives up the actual amounts of his bets. I know they are large though. He's weird like that.

"How much did the idiot bet?"

"This stupid, moron, asshole lost twenty five thousand dollars on the game," anger in her voice stewing evermore.

Whew, I knew he took an ass whipping. I would have guessed in the ten thousand range, but you never know with Roy. He is an impulsive person.

"I can see why you are pissed," is my conciliatory response to her, "It's still not my fault. He did that on his own volition. Don't drag me into it!"

"You are partially responsible for this morons action. You started in with all this Legend bullshit & it made him act stupid."

Back in the day everyone referred to Roy as Legend. He scored game winning touchdowns; drove fancy cars; dated beautiful girls; knocked guys out with one punch & picked winners like it was nothing. Nowadays, he is a shadow of the man he use to be. When I chatted with him earlier about the game. It was to instill some confidence in his pathetic self. I didn't tell him to bet his entire wad on it. He did that all by his lonesome. I tell his soon to be third ex wife the same thing.

"Look, I'm not going to argue with you anymore about it. Here is your dip shit, broke ass, has been Legend friend. Maybe he can explain it to you better how bad he fucked up," she then yells, "Get over here you fucking asshole! Your village idiot friend wants to give you some more advise on a fucking game."

"Dude I got to go," are the first words he says returning to the phone, "I will be looking for a new place to live soon thanks to the Chiefs laying a fucking egg. I told you this would happen if the Chiefs didn't win."

"Why did you bet so much? You know how this shit goes. I'll be honest with you, when your wife said you lost 25k on the game I about fell out of my seat...Jesus Roy."

The Insurrectionist...Part 2

I called Mad Max again. He told me last week he attended the Insurrection. Honestly, I don't know whether to believe him or not:

"I think your giving me a line about being at the Insurrection. Send me some proof. I am starting to agree with Randy, you are all talk and no action.

"What did I tell you last time we talked? I can't send you anything or post anything because the Feds are breathing down everyone's neck about it."

"You didn't do anything wrong. You said you and the guys you were with stayed behind the barriers. All I want you to do is send me a picture or video proving you were there. I'm too old to take your word for it. Send me some proof and then I won't ask about it again."

"I was there motherfucker. You're starting to piss me off with your implications. Don't question my integrity?"

"Well then show me some proof," adding again, "I will shut my mouth up about it when I see some proof."

"What did I tell you asshole? The Feds are breathing down everyone's neck & I don't need the hassle."

"If you stayed behind the barriers you did nothing wrong. The Feds don't give a shit about that. The people who actually stormed the capitol are the ones' they're looking for. Until you show me some proof I will have doubts about you even being there. It sounds to me you are making the whole thing up in an attempt to look cool."

"I was there," anger in his voice evident, "You are starting to piss me off. Are you calling me a liar? It sounds like you are."

"I'm not calling you a liar Mad Max. It's just I am a doubtful man nowadays. I have to be because I've been burned too many times. If you want to sell your Insurrection story to me you must prove it. I'm past taking your word for it."

"My word is all you are going to get asshole," adding angrily, "I was there rallying for the soul of this nation while your fat worthless ass was sitting at home stuffing cookies into your bloated face. I don't have to prove a thing to you."

"Yes you do," interrupting his rant, "If you want me to believe you were at the Insurrection. Until then I am holding your claim suspect. Do you understand?"

He's too old and lazy to get involved; or maybe he's not. He's been preaching about a time like this for as long as I can remember...I'll give him that. Still, he has to prove it definitively or I ain't buying. Until he does I consider him a wannabe.

Tyreek motherf%$%er!...

I called my friend Gus in Las Vegas today to discuss my workouts:

"Sorry to hear about your idol losing the election," is his greeting.

"He's not my idol for the hundredth time. Tyreek Hill is my fucking idol! He'll even be more so when the Chiefs bring home another title. That's my idol, not the guy you are talking about!"

"Why do you have his bumper sticker on your car if he's not you idol?"

"I don't have his bumper sticker on my car dumb shit."

"That's not what I heard," a snicker in his voice.

"You heard wrong boy. Tyreek motherfucker! That's my idol!"

I met Gus a number of years ago at a sweat shop in Chinatown. It wasn't really a sweat shop. It was a big call center (think of it as a sweatshop with phones). Gus is a no bullshit transplant from the east coast who's spent a vast amount of time in the weight room. He convinced me to lift heavy nowadays.

"How's the legs going?" 

"Hard as hell buddy. I saw Tweety bird the other day during my squats. I powered through it any way.

Seeing Tweety bird is gym slang for when you think you might pass out because the lift is more than your nervous system can handle.

"Seeing Tweety bird is a good thing," he proclaims, "Remember, Tweety bird is your friend. When he shows up it means you are growing."

"He doesn't seem like my friend when I'm about ready to pass out."

"Can I give you some additional advise?"

"If it's not about lifting, I don't want to hear it."

"Stop calling Tyreek Hill your idol," ignoring my request, "It makes you look stupid."

"I can call anyone I want my idol," proclaiming, "When the Chiefs win the Super Bowl again he will be that much more my idol."

"Find a better idol is all I am telling you," adding "What about Larry Bird? You told me he was your idol long before Trump became your idol. Why don't you go back to him being your idol?"

"First of all, Trump was never my idol to begin with. Larry Legend got old on me; make no mistake I still revere the man. I needed to update my idol for today's time. Tyreek Hill is my favorite player on my favorite team. He's the perfect fit to be my idol nowadays."

"Okay, whatever," adding in a mocking tone, "It makes you look stupid telling people Tyreek Hill is your idol. That's all I am saying."

"Why does it make me look stupid?"

"You are a fifty year old man wearing a Hill jersey that's a size to small running around telling everyone he is your idol. Come on man! Think about it for a minute."

bet the farm on it...

The other day I called my friend Junior in New Mexico. I asked if he attended the Insurrection:

"No," emphasizing, "I wish I did though. The Patriot's who stormed the capitol should be applauded for their actions."

I got to give credit to the Libertarian bastard, he was yelling 'Trump' before it became cool.

our conversation circa 2011:

"We should do like Donald Trump says and turn it into lake Iran. How come this country spends trillions on wars & doesn't get a fucking dime in return," or his other staple, "Build a fucking wall to keep the illegals out. There's too goddamn many of them to begin with."

Ten years down the road and we are having a different conversation:

"Are you mad your idol lost?"

"He's not my idol. He's your idol," is his quick reply to my question.

"Don't lie to me dude. You were tooting the Trump horn way before anyone else. You were the very first guy I knew who started talking about Trump for president. Don't jump ship now. Admit he's your fucking idol & we can move on."

"He's your fucking idol."

"Don't get smart with me boy. Admit it already!"

"Like I said before dip shit. 'He's your fucking idol.' Jesus, are you deaf?"

Junior is a tricky one:

"What about the Chiefs motherfucker? It's back to back time. I'm going to have virtual parade Monday after they win it. I'll send you an invite."

"Don't bother," adding with gruff, "They are going to lose to Captain America. It will be the Brady show come Sunday. The Chiefs will lay an egg."

Junior is a die hard Steeler fan. Through the years I've listened to him brag about how many Super Bowls they'd won compared to my beloved Chiefs. The Steelers' are no where to be found nowadays. I remind him of such.

"Back to back motherfucker. I've been telling you the same thing since the nineties. Once we get a quarterback the titles will start piling up. Look what finally happened. Tom Brady can stand outside as far as I'm concerned. The Suck's; or Buc's; or whatever their goddamn name is have no chance - None!"

"Mahomes is pretty good," stating the obvious to me, "I just don't think he has what it takes to get it done, not against Brady any way. You guys will be back in the Super Bowl again. This year belongs to Captain America."

"Captain America," I add with a mocking tone, "He sure as hell isn't Captain America to me. He's just another cog in the Belicheater wheel. If you are going to refer to him as Captain America; Mahomes is Superman."

"I get it, Mahomes is good. Think about it this way instead. This will be a legacy game for Mahomes; with Brady it's just another Super Bowl. The pressure might be too much for him," he's regurgitating what some moron sportscaster is saying. I call him out on it.

"I agree with them," is his answer.

"Let's go a bill on it if you are so sure," Junior is a gambling man. Let's see him put his money where his mouth is, "I'll take the Chiefs and you can have Captain America."

"I'm going to pass," is his response to the challenge.

"That's what I thought. The Chiefs win by a couple of touchdowns. Bet the farm on it."