murdering a motherfu#@er...

"I use to love her, but I had to kill her, I knew I'd miss her; so I had to keep her...she's buried right in my backyard...I use to love her; but I had to kill her. She bitched so much; it drove me nuts...I can still her complain."

Use to love her (had to kill her) ~ Guns-N-Roses

A guy in Las Vegas strangled his girlfriend & buried her in the backyard. For one reason or another G-N-R lyrics go through my head every time I think about him.

Talking with Miss Kitty at the pool today:

"How are things going nowadays Rob? I haven't seen anything new on your blog lately. What's the deal?"

"I think about murdering people all day long Miss Kitty. That would not be appropriate material for a blog"

"Oh Rob, thirty million dollars isn't that much. You'll find something else. Geez, you've got to stop telling people you want to murder someone. They're going to think something is wrong with you."

"There is something wrong with me because the feelings are fluid. It was an opportunity that comes around once in several lifetimes Miss Kitty. Thinking about how it went down enrages me to no end. It has put homicidal thoughts at the front of my mind."

"You're being a little ridiculous by saying you want to murder someone," she adds with a snicker, "I can just see it... I'll be watching the news & they'll have a story about a quadruple homicide & you'll be the first guy I think of. The police will be chasing your van down Grand Avenue with a chopper following you overhead. Murder someone...please, give me a break."

My shrink told me to do a certain exercise. It's a Q & A (with myself) reflecting on the cause of my devious thoughts. She also said to keep it brief...I will try my best:

The setting:

Beginning of spring 2013; location Chinatown district of Las Vegas. The future of delivery applications is being molded & Rob Astle is bound & determined to get his piece of the pie! 

Pay extra attention to what I'm about to say! It gives clues on why I think about homicides nowadays.

Chinatown districts are a blueprint of what delivery applications thrive on! Blocks upon blocks of restaurants located in the same vicinity. Currently, the Chinatown district in Las Vegas produces millions upon millions in revenue for applications such as DoorDash & Grubhub. In 2013 it is virgin territory for the process.

The murderous thoughts continue. 

An associate at the time (who is now a millionaire thanks to the process) convinced me to find some restaurants for him to load on his site. He paid fifty dollars for every restaurant; turns out I'm a natural. In less than a month ten restaurants were signed/sealed & delivered. The majority residing in Chinatown.

"Hurry up! Get to the point already! Tell us why you want to murder some motherfuckers."

Upon delivery he wanted me to get more. I told him I would but the price was going way up for my services. He didn't have the money so the relationship ended. My thoughts, "I'm the guy who gets the restaurants. Why the hell do I need him? I'll start my own site." 

Here's the part where the murder feelings begin to surface. 

It wasn't the best time for me financially. The recession had taken it's toll and personal resources were scant. Help is needed. Initially, a couple of associates came to town & I gave them the tour. They were not interested, I am disappointed in their decision, but not discouraged. Surely someone else will help. 

Pay attention! This is the part where murder thoughts really, really start to take hold!

"Heah man, Billy Bob & Thelma Sue have been calling you a bum & telling everyone you are running a sham & to stay away from your ideas about Chinatown." 

The exact words of a lifelong friend as he passed on the opportunity...Billy Bob & Thelma Sue are ex associates & they poisoned the well. I've thought long & hard about why they acted the way they did. I'm still not sure. Who am I kidding? They did it out of spite. They are at the top the murder list!

Okay, you are starting to bore me with all this whining about how people are out to get you. How does the story end?

Me on the streets; broke; criticized & mocked while delivery applications are projected to do 200 billion in revenue by 2025.

Why don't you let it go? Everyone has a hard luck story.

For the longest time I tuned it out; you know, pretend it didn't happen. It's proven impossible realizing the billions in revenue delivery applications produce nowadays & knowing damn well I was at the beginning of it.

Now you are starting to really bore people. Why don't you tell us your perceived opportunities lost so we can be done with this?

I'll describe things briefly on an organic level. They'll be more to come at a later date because murderous thoughts are not fleeting.

First & foremost (in 2013) there is no competition for the service in Chinatown. I'm the only guy there with ten restaurants signed & scores more in sight...two of the original ten signed pay over 50k a year in delivery fees nowadays. What do you think a hundred quality restaurants would have brought in? Do your own math.

A snippet from my last therapy session.

Shrink: Don't worry about things so much. You'll eventually forget about all the opportunities & dreams lost. 

Me: I don't think so. The feelings have intensified tenfold since we first started seeing each other.

Shrink: How are you going to get rid of the feelings?

Me: By murdering some motherfuckers!

 

 

 

Taco Tuesday...

Taco's give a temporary reprieve from any misgiving:

"Here you go Irma," standing at her door with a Styrofoam container, "I got you the shredded beef again."

There's a worried look on her face:

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"Kendra caught me in a fib & now she's upset about it."

"What did you do now?"

"I drove to Adobe & got on the treadmill for four miles. Jesus, it's just up the street. I can drive there with my eyes closed."

It's not my place to comment on the matter.

"Forget about things for a few minutes & enjoy your taco's. The problem will wait for you to finish. Besides, it's Taco Tuesday."

The comment brings a smile to her face.

"I'm paying for yours today," as she hands me an additional five dollars, "You're right about taco's. They sure make people happy."

"Tell Kendra I said hello & to relax. It's all good."

The other day I was lounging at the pool discussing real estate with Lilly:

"These places are going up like crazy," referring to the current value of condos at LaSolana.

"Everything is going up," is her immediate reply.

"The one next to me sold in a day...straight cash!"

"Did you check out the open house?"

"I sure did Lilly; the place is immaculate."

"What price did they get?"

"One sixty nine. It's the same model as mine."

"That's a nice price," is her impressive reply, "I have the next model up & it would sell for one eighty five to one ninety," adding with a shrug, "Hopefully the bubble doesn't pop before I go to sell."

The housing market experienced an evisceration eleven short years ago. If the crash is anything like that...whew, watch out!

"You want to hear a sad but true story Lilly?"

"Let's hear it Rob."

"The place sold was owned by a ninety four year old man. He'd use his walker to get everywhere. I'd gotten to know him a little. Well, a few weeks go by & I don't see him anymore. Obviously, he passed away. What I''m trying to say is the guy died in the middle of the night & I'm his fucking neighbor & didn't have a clue until I saw his place for sale three weeks later."

"Don't let it freak you out. That kind of thing happens a lot around here. My neighbor makes the same comment every time he sees an ambulance at Lasolana, 'There goes another condo on the market."

less than stellar feedback...Part 4

I've been floating the idea of a situation comedy based on the comings & goings of the pool crowd at LaSolana. The feedback thus far has been less than stellar:

"Do you want to know the difference between your idea & steaming pile of shit at the dog park?"

"Sure Rocky," anticipating an insult, "What's the difference?"

"Somebody will pick up the steaming pile of dog shit."

"That's a good one Rocky. Did you make that up?"

"Yep," replying smugly, "It's ridiculous thinking people will find you and other old, fat, decrepit fuckers floating around in a pool entertaining; much less humorous," shaking his head in disgust, "Okay, Mr. Wannabe. Let's pretend I'm a show runner & you're trying to pitch me the idea. I will give you thirty seven seconds...Go!"

Rocky is the farthest thing in the world from a show runner; I need the practice:

"Thank you for this opportunity Mr. Showrunner," adding, "First of all look at the demographics of Sun City. They're old! When I say old? I'm saying seventy is a pup. The hook will be old! The characters will be old. The older the better!"

"Twenty seven seconds," adding in a belligerent tone, "Twenty six, twenty five..."

"Mr Showrunner, there's never been a better time for this. The Covid 19 hangover is fading & people are ready for something fresh; something creative; something to talk about. The concept has it all. It's going to keep people begging for more."

"Ten seconds," more belligerent than before, "Nine seconds, eight seconds..."

"In conclusion, Mr. Showrunner, the story line revolves around me & a number of other residents at LaSolana floating in a pool; or relaxing in a hot tub...all while we critique fast food & comment about women I want to sleep with. Other story lines will be sprinkled in as well. It's a winning formula!"

"You're the only guy who thinks that; not interested," as he imitates a person slamming a phone down, "That's what a show runner is going to tell you."

"Good thing you're not a real show runner Rocky. I would be screwed."

"You are screwed on the concept no matter what," adding in a sarcastic tone, "Good Luck!"

I despise when people wish me good luck & don't mean it.

 

"

less than stellar feedback...Part 3

It's been a while since I apologized to anyone; so here it goes: I'm sorry for being an asshole at the pool today to a certain person. They directed an unflattering remark towards me & I responded in kind. Thinking back I should have kept my mouth shut. Any way, I feel better now that I've apologized:

I encounter Mooch relaxing in the hot tub.

"Heah Mooch, you're just the guy I'm looking for. Have you had a chance to look over the writing?"

"Not yet Mr. Tarantino. I'm planning on doing it next week."

Mooch is a retired actor/producer/writer who calls the friendly confines of LaSolana home. He's the guy everyone is telling me to talk to. 

"That's good to hear buddy," as I ease into the hot tub, "Let me tell you the best way to think about the concept."

"How should I think of it Mr. Scorsese?"

"Don't overthink the concept; keep it simple. The setting is a pool or hot tub. The hook is old people; the older the better. Dialog will be concise. We'll have an earbud on everyone if necessary to make sure of it. What I'm basically saying Mooch, 'Do not over complicate the process. There is no Oscar projections in this venture. The end goal is to walk away with twenty three minutes of quality humor for a pilot. The camera crew will shoot one day; eight to ten hours."

"Keep it simple. Is that what you're telling me Mr. Howard?"

"That's what I'm telling you Mooch. Keep it simple!"

He inquires about a character from the blog:

"Did your friend finally get his divorce over from his wife?"

"He did. It wasn't pretty & it cost him a lot more money than anticipated; but it's over now."

"How many wive's has this guy had?"

"That was Roy's third."

"Sounds like the guy needs to give marriage a rest."

"I couldn't agree with you more Mooch."

We chat about the weather for a few minutes before he leaves:

"Mooch, remember for me please. When you finally give me your professional critique of the concept; keep it simple."

"I understand Mr. Spielberg. I'll keep it simple," is his parting words.

less than stellar feedback...Part 2

I've been floating an idea about a situation comedy premised on the patrons of the pool at LaSolana. Today I received additional feedback from Big C about the concept:

"There's no hook to it. That's another problem you're having."

"The hook is old people; the older the better Big C."

"That is a terrible hook. It will never work," is his same reply from last time.

"Why do you say that? What else would be the hook? Come on man! We live in a retirement community; all the scenarios revolve around old fuckers. I'd say the hook is clear."

"Let's make sure I got this straight," adding with smug look on his face, "Your plan is to incorporate old people at LaSolana into a reality show/sitcom with a story line that revolves around critiquing fast food & listening to you chat about all the women you wish you could sleep with?"

"Yeah, you've pretty much got it summed up buddy," adding, "Don't forget all of the conversation happens while floating around the pool."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," is his belligerent response.

"Why do you say that?"

"First of all you don't have anyone to play the parts."

I've answered this objection before. I do it again:

"If people at LaSolana are willing to get involved than I would welcome it. If not, I will turn to actors to fill the roles."

"No chance amigo," with more belligerence than before, "There's a better chance of me bedding a Playboy bunny than you'll ever have of bringing this idea to fruition."

"You need some work on proper euphemisms Big C."

"What do you mean?"

"First of all, you have an infinite zero chance of ever bedding a Playboy bunny. My idea at least has a flicker of hope. Why don't you say it this way instead, 'I have a better chance of winning the lottery than you do of making this concept work.' See, you actually have a chance to win the lottery. However slim it may be. You have absolutely no chance of ever sleeping with a Playboy bunny. I'm going to buy you a book describing the proper use of euphemisms."

We chat about the logistics & cost of such a venture:

"For what you're talking about doing you'll have to raise some serious money. It's going to cost you a couple hundred thousand to do anything worthwhile. That's just the beginning."

'It will cost a fraction of what you are saying," is my answer to his claim, "Where your statement makes sense is if the pilot catches on & someone with wherewithal wants additional episodes; than things get more serious. That's where money comes into play. The concept is a long ways from that point."

"Additional episodes," adding in a pugnacious tone, "Now I've heard it all. You can't even get a decent script together for the pilot & all of a sudden you're talking additional episodes. Jesus man, get a fucking grip. I've got a better chance of doing a standing back flip than you do of ever making a go of this concept."

There he goes again with another poor example of how to incorporate a proper euphemism into a conversation. He has an infinite zero chance of ever performing a standing back flip. My idea has a flicker of hope.

less than stellar feedback...

I've been chatting up the idea of a situation comedy based on the comings & goings of a bunch of old fuckers at LaSolana. The feedback received so far is less than stellar:

"I would give you a .0001 chance of success. Dude, I hate to be the guy to break it to you. Your material needs a serious overhaul."

"What do you mean Big C?"

"Look, the reason people around here read your blog & find it entertaining is because they know you & relate to it first hand. That's the only reason," adding in a bewildered tone, "Who the hell, outside of LaSolana, is going to pay attention to a reality show where all you talk about is fast food & women you want to sleep with...all while you're floating around in a pool?"

Before I can answer; he answers for me:

"Zippo buddy! Not a goddamn one. Do you really think people will be interested in hearing a guy critique a Wendy's double bacon cheeseburger with a couple of other fat fuckers while they're floating in a pool? Jesus man, the concept doesn't have a chance."

Any feedback on the blog is welcome; his rant continues:

"Look dude, I've been telling you to write a script for the longest time & you keep telling me the blog is the script," adding in a belligerent tone, "The dialog; arc; story line; character development & every fucking thing else in your blog for such a venture is missing; or grossly inadequate."

"It sounds like you're telling me I don't have the writing chops for it. Is that what you are trying to tell me?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you dude," adding with more belligerence, "I have a better chance of squatting five hundred pounds than you do of seeing this idea come to fruition."

"I doubt that very seriously Big C. I have seen you in the gym."

"You catch my drift smart ass," is his snarky reply.

"Yeah, I catch your drift Big C. The thing is you have an infinite zero chance of ever squatting five hundred pounds. My idea at least has a glimmer of hope. Find a better euphemism."

Big C leaves the pool & Lilly enters. The feedback continues:

"I'm with Big C," are her words after sharing his critique, "There is one thing I disagree with him on?"

"What's that Lilly?"

"He said you have a .0001 chance of success."

"Yep," in a somber tone.

"In my opinion he is being optimistic about things. I'd add a couple of more zeroes to it."

"Geez, thanks for the boost of confidence Lilly."

"Just trying to be honest about things. Do you want to know what I think a big problem of yours is with the blog?"

"What's that Lilly?"

"You are failing to make the material click."

"I need better material is that..."

"Not just better material," interrupting before I can finish my sentence, "Your material needs to make a quantum leap & you need to produce a considerable amount more of it. Right now, I don't see anything coming out of your writing except a few laughs from the old ladies at the pool."

Rocky enters the pool area a half hour after Lilly leaves. I share the previous feedback with him:

"I agree with both of them wholeheartedly," adding, "The thing is if we could get someone in here who can really write. A professional who knows what they're doing. Yeah, I can see something coming out of what you are saying. They're plenty of funny characters with all these old motherfuckers running around."

"I agree with your assessment Rocky. That's why I'm proposing the idea."

"It's too bad you are not more talented & resourceful. At least than you might have a chance. The way things stand right now I don't see your idea happening in a million years. It would be a waste of time & money in my opinion."

Sounds like I'm going to have to step up my game if there is any chance of success. That's life in general though.

Culver's for lunch...

My best friend Lenny packed up the family & headed home for the summer. Luckily, at the pool today, I find someone new to discuss my fast food addiction with:

"Do you like Culver's?"

We met briefly at the pool yesterday.

"I sure do," is her glowing answer.

"What's your favorite thing there?"

"That's a tough one," while scratching her chin, "I would probably have to say the double butterburger with cheese. I'll have it with a bag of large cheese curds & a Reese's cement mixer."

"I'm in love again," is my immediate thought.

"Do you want to know what my favorite thing there is?"

"Sure," is her welcoming reply.

"I will have a cod sandwich with cheese & a bag of large cheese curds. I'll get a large Pepsi to wash it all down as well. Oh, don't forget the ranch & marinara to dunk all the cheese curds in."

"You've got to have ranch," she proclaims, "It goes with everything."

Her affinity for ranch seals the deal. I formally introduce myself:

"Hi, my name is Rob & I love fast food. What's your name?"

"Claudia," adding in a coy tone, "I'm here for a couple days visiting family."

We chat about the weather for a few minutes & then I say:

"I'm going to Culver's for lunch. Would you like me to bring you something back?"

"You are the sweetest," with a giggle, "All this fast food talk is making me hungry as well. Now that I think about it I could go for a cement mixer & some cheese curds."

Eighteen minutes later returning with a sack of grease; two cement mixers; one ice cream cone & a large Pepsi. The fast food talk continues as we enjoy our succulent lunch:

"Do you like Jack-N-Box?"

"Never been to one. They don't have them where I'm from. The commercials are catchy though."

"Do you want to know why I think it's such a great place?"

"Sure," is her quizzical reply.

"It's the first place I experienced an interactive soda dispenser."

"What's that?"

"It's got the touch screen on it & you can pick what kind of soda you want with all the flavors you can imagine. For example, you can have cherry; orange; vanilla; strawberry; lime; lemon or a host of other flavors. Last time there I had a sixty four ounce orange Dr. Pepper. It was satisfying."

"Geez, that sounds sugary," as she shovels a handful of cheese curds into her mouth. 

We spend a few minutes chatting about red velvet cake with butterscotch frosting; I then ask:

"Do you want to know what another favorite thing of mine is?"

"What?"

"Double bacon cheeseburgers from Wendy's. Yummy, yummy, yummy Claudia. It's pure ecstasy when you eat one."

"Stop it," she proclaims, "I'm starting to put on weight just thinking about it."

"Sometimes when I get one I'll pay more & they'll add a couple of extra pieces of bacon. Don't forget the smoothie for dessert & a large Pepsi to wash it all down."

"Geez," in a kittenish tone, "You sure do know your fast food. I am impressed."

"I'm in love again," is my recurring thought.