my girl...

There seems to be some confusion on who fancies who at the LaSolana pool:

"I saw your girl with her new guy today. They were riding bikes along Mountain View. You should see this bozo she is with now. She dumped you for a total tool."

Gino's confusion is innocent enough. It's humorous to be honest with you.

"Gino, for goodness sake. She is not my girl. You are the one who has eyes for her. Why do you keep saying she's my girl?"

A certain lady in a string bikini turns heads at the pool. I'll say 'hi' to her when she is there. That is the extent of our relationship. However, I made a suggestive remark one day when both of us were gawking at her. He won't let me forget it.

"That's what you told me. Those were you're exact words. You said, 'that's my girl' and motioned in her direction."

I play along for the hell of it.

"Okay Gino, you got me. She is my girl, not a full time thing though. If she wants to strut her stuff with another fella. Who am I to say no? I'm not the jealous type."

"Really," he says with a surprising gaze, "You don't mind that she is stepping out on you with another guy. I would be mad as hell."

I extend the farce more.

"You got me again Gino, I'm supposed to meet her at the hotel around the corner at nine. She says she is going to make it up to me."

"What the hell are you going to do at a hotel?"

"We're not going to play tiddly winks; that much is for sure."

A wide smile comes to his tan face after my proclamation; even at eighty eight it's still the first thing on a man's mind.

"You are a lucky guy. I wish I could take your place."

"If it is fiction you can say whatever you want," is my continuing thought.

"Gino, I'm just joking about meeting her at the hotel. She's actually coming over to my place tonight and I'm fixing her dinner. You know what desert is going to be," directing a wink and nod in his direction.

"Really," he says with a tone of jealousy.

"No, not really. It's a pleasant thought though."

old people talk at the pool...

The other day I was floating in the pool at LaSolana when Frank, who is eighty eight years old, says to me, "I saw your girlfriend out here today with another guy. I thought you said she was your girl. It sure doesn't look like it."

It's the opposite going on here, Frank has the hots for this gal & she is uninterested, thus causing him to turn his failure on me. I play along for the hell of it.

"Frank, she was never my girl. You were the one who had the hots for her. Don't get me wrong, she's an attractive lady. There was never anything there though. I could tell it when are eyes first gazed at one another. I knew she would never be my girl," the truth of the matter is she couldn't pick me out of a line up. 

"Don't give me that," he says insistently, "She dumped you for one of these old guys. How does that make you feel?"

"Not too bad since she was never my girl to begin with. Why don't you ask her out if you are so interested. She might tell her new guy to take a hike & start hanging out with you."

"Do you think so?"

"Probably not good buddy," is all I can muster.

There is a distinguished gentlemen who frequents the pool most afternoons. His name is Carmine & he tilts way to the right. The other day we had a brief conversation about Hunter Biden's lap top while floating around in the shallow end.

"This is complete bullshit on what Twitter is doing. Things like this is how communism gets its roots."

I had no idea what he was referring to...he explains it to me.

"They're suppressing the Hunter Biden/Russia story. They don't want the masses to see how crooked the Biden's really are," adding to his rant, "It turns out the moron had a bunch of top secret stuff on his lap top implicating all the shady deals he did while daddy was vice president. Some kind of genius this guy is. He takes the computer to get fixed and forgets where it is. He was probably coked out of his mind. The computer ends up in the hands of the FBI & they are not pushing the issue either. It's a sham!"

"So what does this got to do with Twitter?"

"They disconnect anyone who posts about it."

I wasn't sure if he had the story exactly right. The truth is I could care less. I didn't want to tell him that because I knew it would be a no win situation for me. Turns out, I was already in a no win situation.

"Bummer, so much for that 'October surprise," fully expecting him to reply with irritation.

"Bummer," he says in a mocking tone, "I'm telling you the whole shit house is on fire & that's all you have to say."

I abandon the conversation and wade over to the other side of the pool where Miss Kitty is at.

"It will be nice when the election is over Miss Kitty. I still don't know what people around here will talk about."

"There's always football Rob," is her immediate answer.

The latest happenings at the LaSolana pool...

I haven't officially measured the distance from my front door to the entrance of the LaSolana pool area. I'm guessing it can't be more than fifty paces. Maybe one of these days I will measure it for real & settle my own curiosity:

"Don't tell me the 'Rona has made it to the pool Jack. Why in the world is the entire pool roped off with yellow tape?"

Entering the pool area I notice yellow tape surrounding the entire pool. The 'Rona is the first thing that comes to mind.

"It's not the 'Rona Rob," he adds while lounging in a green lawn chair in the smoking area, "One of these old guys took a shit in the pool and they had to call in the cleaner to come and shock it. He said it would take two days for the chemicals to take affect. That's why the yellow tape is there."

"That is disgusting," is my initial words, adding, "I will have the image in my head every time I get in the pool from now on out. Who was it?"

"Nobody knows for sure. It could have been a number of these old guys. I don't think a lady would do that," adding with a shrug, "You got to remember something around here. It's all old people for the most part, so shit happens...literally."

I'm happy to report the problem is resolved and all is back to normal.

The other day I was in the pool floating in circles when I decided to ask a friend to reveal her secret.

"How did you get so good at picking football games Miss Kitty?"

"I just have a knack for it Rob," is her modest answer as a flotation device guides her gently around the pool.

Miss Kitty, a distinguished lady in her own right, is currently the win leader in the football pool at LaSolana.

"How do you think you'll do this week?"

"Hopefully I can win it again Rob," she won the last pot and has finished runner up twice. The season is only five weeks old.

"How come you're so bad at picking games Rob? I would think a guy like you would be better at it. You seem to know a lot about football," the truth is the more you know about football, the worse you are at picking games. I've seen it a million times. I tell her such.

"It's hard to believe someone can be as bad as me Miss Kitty. Unfortunately, I just don't have it. That's why I finish last every week. The best thing to do is let me tell you what I like & take the opposite. What's your secret Miss Kitty? How come you are so proficient at it?"

"I just concentrate for a few seconds on each pick and then I go with the one that sticks. Nothing more than that Rob. Mix in a lot of luck as well."

I know it's luck; she knows it's luck; everyone at the pool knows it's luck...the thing is if you do it consistently is it really luck? I had to make sure she wasn't trying to hustle me.

"Don't give me this luck story Miss Kitty. Everyone knows you are connected in ways that I can't even fathom. You probably got a hot line to some guy way up there and when things aren't going well you ring him up & whammo! All the calls start to go your way. It's way past a guy like me."

"I wish Rob," adding with a giggle, "My son will tell me what he thinks every once in a while, but I just go with my gut for the most part."

The two of us float around the pool for a bit more and then I ask, "Where is Carmine?"

"I haven't seen him in a few days. Do you think the zombies finally got him?"

Carmine is a patron of the pool who tilts ultra right. He's convinced the country will be staring down a President Pelosi come inauguration time.

"That's crazy," I add with a laugh, "Last week he told me Antifa was on his trail."

"Never a dull moment at LaSolana with all these old guys around Rob," she adds with a smile.

"You got that right," is my immediate response.

conversations at the pool...

About a year & a half ago I moved from Las Vegas to Surprise, Arizona. I currently reside in an old folks development named LaSolana:

"Heah Frank! Did you hear the latest news?"

"What's that?"

"It turns out the country will be experiencing a President Pelosi come January 2021."

The setting for our conversation occurs in the swimming pool of LaSolana.

"Don't say crazy things like that. It gives me nightmares," he responds with horror in his face.

"I'm not kidding Frank. The lady on FOX News says be ready for it."

"Which lady?"

"Judge Jeanine," adding, "She says the election won't be decided by inauguration day because it will be held up in court. In that case we will be looking at an acting president Pelosi. The other theory is the 'Rona will wipe everyone else out and she'll be the last man standing come inauguration, so to speak."

The disgust and fear in his face is real as he shakes his head & says in a gruff voice, "Eighty eight years is enough for me. If she becomes president I will jump in front of a bus."

Yep, you heard it right. My best friend nowadays is an eighty eight year old man who lives in the building south of mine.

"You think it's funny when I say I will shoot myself if Pelosi becomes president. I'm not kidding eighty eight years is enough."

I know he's only kidding about shooting himself if Pelosi is elected president. I tell him such.

"Frank, you still got twelve more years to live before you make it to a hundred. Don't let a president Pelosi stop you from such a grand feat," chuckles coming across the pool from Kitty...she lives a few doors down from me.

"You two can laugh all you want, I'm serious. If Pelosi ends up being president that's it for me," adding with a scoff to his gruff voice, "The second she is sworn in you will hear a loud pop coming from building 6. Have them cremate me and spread my ashes around the pool."

Kitty & I chuckle once again at his remarks.

"Enough of this president Pelosi bull shit. Who is leading in the football pool?"

I turn directly to Kitty after his question & say, "Yours truly is tied for first place going into tonight's game. I'm in last place."

"I thought you knew everything about football & your telling me a girl is beating you."

"Yep," is my answer.

"How could that be?"

"I don't know. Let's ask her."

Miss Kitty, as she is affectionately called around the pool, is a distinguished lady who I would guess to be in her late sixties to early seventies. 

"What's the secret to picking games Miss Kitty?"

"There is no secret Rob. It's just how I feel about things at the  moment," is her response with a smile, "Once in a while I will listen to what my son tells me. Besides that I just go with the flow."

"Whatever your doing, keep doing it. Have you seen Gus lately?"

The majority of the pool crowd at LaSolana is right leaning. Gus is the rightest of them all.

"I haven't seen him in a few days. Do you think the zombies got him?"

His addiction to conspiracy websites has made him even more paranoid than before. It's humorous listening to his rants at the pool. 

"I thought it was Hillary's people who were after him now. Hold on, now that I think about it he told me Hillary's people had lost his scent and Antifa is on his trail," adding to the chorus of laughter, "Maybe the zombies got him. Who knows for sure?"

As I'm leaving the pool for the hot tub, Kitty replies, "Rob, you should transfer your blog from Las Vegas to the pool at LaSolana. I'm sure people will find it entertaining. You could let everyone know what really goes on at the pool of an old folks home."

"It sounds like a good idea to me Kitty," is my response as I turn the knob on the hot tub and ease my way in, "I seriously have to do it."

 

scandalous...

The other day I started thinking about the predicament my friend Chuck from Kansas is currently in. I call him for an update:

"This one was easy, basically she kept everything and I moved in with mama," is his short answer for the dissolution of his fifth marriage, "Glad it is over. We never got along to begin with. No worries though, I got a couple new ones already."

The dumb bastard is pushing fifty with no job, money or future. The only thing the horny knuckle head thinks about is which suburban mom or recent divorcee he is going to bed next. He's scandalous and I tell him such.

"Yeah, I am scandalous," adding, "The thing is all these bitches are just as scandalous as I am. They like the excitement until they don't. It's a never ending cycle."

"Have you ever thought about just keeping it in your pants?"

"I have," he adds, "It's just too difficult. I'll meet up with one of these broads on the internet & she'll be wearing the sweetest smelling perfume. After a few drinks we'll start talking about how lonely we are. The next thing I know I'm in a bathroom stall snorting coke off of her tits."

"Chuck," adding with all seriousness, "Someone needs to remind you of your age. You're not in your twenties anymore. Jesus, you are still snorting coke off of hookers at fifty years old. It's pathetic. Although, in a weird kind of way I am jealous."

"I don't turn fifty for another two months. Are you really jealous?"

"If I was in my twenties I'd be jealous. The thing is I'm fifty and practicality is what guides me now."

"You never tried something like that with Roxy? She seems like the kind of girl who would go for it."

"No, whenever we were together it was intense sex followed by a little pillow talk."

"I'll be straight with you. If you get on the internet and shop around for a little while you'll meet a hundred Roxy types."

"I don't think so. She's one in a million. Don't insult her like that."

I ask if he has any new stories to share.

"No, not much new stuff lately. Although, I have something you'll find both funny and disturbing."

"What's that?"

"The other day this gal I've been seeing messages me and says she got a room downtown and wants to meet up around nine. When I show up she opens the door wearing a mask and immediately takes my temperature with a digital thermometer. After it reads I get waved in. The corona virus has made her extra cautious. She then gives me a mask to put on and proceeds to take off all her clothes while saying, 'We are going to do things different this time. I want you to take me from behind, but you have to wear a mask. We should be fine as long as we don't come face to face."

"She really made you wear a mask during sex?"

"Yep," adding, "I know it sounds strange. It's the world we live in nowadays."

I'd heard enough about his libido and changed the subject to something more important.

"Have you found a job yet?"

"Nope," is his reply.

"What do you do when your not with one of your conquests?"

"Hang out with mama. We watch every Royal's game and then we will watch reruns of Magnum PI or something like that. I do all the grocery shopping and she'll fix all the meals. Mama goes to bed around seven and then I usually head out on the prowl."

 

The Reckoning is coming...

The other day I called Mad Max from Kansas. He believes a 'Reckoning' of some sort is closing in on all of us:

"Trump motherfucker!" 

"What's going on Mad Max?"

"Getting ready for a Reckoning village idiot. What about you?"

"Reckoning," adding with laughter, "It's so funny when you say it. Even to this day I laugh."

"What's so funny about it?" 

"When you say, 'The Reckoning is coming,' I picture fire raining down from the sky and zombies marching everywhere like you see in the movies. Come On man! Do you really think that is going to happen?"

"Baa, baa, baa," he repeats in unison, "Do you know what that sound is?"

"Yes, I know what that sound is. It's the sound sheep make as they are being lead to slaughter. Get some new material Mad Max."

"You get some new material asshole," adding angrily, "Why do you think things are so funny?"

"They just are," is my reply.

"Like I said from the beginning. Your fat pasty ass will be the first to capitulate. It's pathetic."

He's been overusing the word capitulate lately. I had to tease him about it.

"Capitulate, Jesus, you don't even know what that means. Give me a break genius."

My statement angers him more.

"Let me put it in sentence form for you," sarcastically adding, "My name is Rob and my fat pasty ass will be the first to capitulate.' Does that make better sense for you moron?"

"You're a funny guy Mad Max. I need to correct you on something though."

"What?"

"I've been spending a lot of time at the pool and have a nice tan going. Calling me pasty is incorrect. I'm still fat though."

"Okay genius," in a mocking tone, "How's this sound instead? 'Your fat worthless ass will be the first to capitulate."

"Worthless sounds a lot better. Thank you for dropping the pasty part."

"Jesus boy, wake the fuck up! Do you want to survive?"

"Survive what?"

"The fucking Reckoning you moron," anger in his tone ever more.

"Are you talking about when fire starts raining down and zombies begin to march in the streets? I'll deal with it when I see it."

"Baa, baa, baa," is his immediate response to my mocking his beliefs, "You really are clueless. I want you to remember something boy."

"What's that Mad Max?"

"They are coming for your fat worthless ass real soon," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

 

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."