Close Call

Yesterday I almost killed some kid.
I was driving home, taking my time. It was finally a nice day again. The sun was warm, the leaves are green and the flowers are in bloom. On the sidewalk on my side of the street a woman was walking her dog. She was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt. I was driving along watching her ass bounce as the dog pulled her along.

Slowly, I drive passed her and slid down the window, but I decided not to say anything. I'm trying to learn some restraint. I would have waved if she looked over at me, but she didn't. So, I roll passed her and moved my glance to the passenger side mirror. I've got to tell you, I love women in tee-shrits and this one did not disappoint. Whoa I said out loud. Look at those!
Her nice melons wer bouncing for all it see, and I was one of the all.

Just then this kid pulls out his driveway on his bike, and I almost killed him or myself. I slammed on the brakes. The car swerved and just missed the kid on one side and a tree on the other. I saw his face and it looked like he thought he was dead.

I looked around for the woman who caused it all and she was nowhere to be seen. Gone.

I don't know if women who go out dressed like that are trying to kill people, or just get attention. I wonder if they are just stupid or unaware. If that kid ended up dead or in the hospital it would have been her fault and she wouldn't have even known about it.

Long Weekend

I was gong to try to write something earlier but I had to pull the plug on the computer this weekend.

I had been thinking about his long holiday weekend for a while. I planned on opening up he big grill, getting out big steaks, and a couple of cases of beer. Then we'd invite the three sets of neighbors over, get the women drunk and see who would be the first to take off her top this year. It's a semi-annual event, Memorial Day and Labor Day. All three women have nice sets and are proud of themselves. They don't like to admit how much they enjoy showing it all off, so they have to get drunk. But it doesn't take much to get them drunk, so off we go.

But this year I had to pick up my thriteen year-old daughter for the weekend. Her mother, my first wife, the lovely but impossible Melissa, the one woman who really deserves to be called the one word that women most hate to be called, made it clear that this was my weekend with the product of our years of raging incompatibility, Lindsey.

Now, I love Lindsey. She is mine and I take responsibility for her, just as I do my older son, Paul, who is now in college and hardly speaks to me. But, as Lindsey has grown-up and her mother has poisoned her against me, and taught her that the reason there are men in the world is to use their charge-cards. I have tried to be calm and caring. It is often difficult.
This Friday, Lindsey jumped in the car, gave me a hug, asked if we can stop at the mall, and then got on the phone with her friends. This is the phone I had to buy and pay for, and put her on my plan, but have no control over. She sends me text messages ca couple of times a week to say "hi" but won't answer when I call.

Before we had gone five miles we were in a big fight because I wanted her to turn the damn thing off and talk to me. She wanted to meet her friends at the mall and spend more of my money to go shopping..

When we actually got home, two hours and $150 later, she was nice to her younger sister Chelsea, but snotty to Tammy, my now wife, who always tries to be good to her. Then she jumped on my computer and began IMing all her friends who she had just seen about how all the money I spent wasn't really enough.

So I pulled the plug.

Then I sat on the deck and just drank my beer. If we all got started on our Memorial Day sport and her mother found out, I would be in court by Wednesday.

play time

It was a pretty nice today so I decided to do my work on the golf course. I had gotten a call from a guy who is part of the planning for our 25th H.S. reunion, so I called him back and he arranged for a couple of other guys to meet me at my club.

I was cool in H.S. and people never get over that. I was on the hockey team, which was the glamour sport back then. Because of that the teachers let me slide on homework and the girls let me slide my hands across their chests. It worked for me. All of these guys wanted to be like me and the few friends I hung around with, and they still do.

So, even though I haven't seen any of these guys for five or ten years I had them out to the club. I paid for a round of golf and a few rounds of drinks. I showed them how to flirt with the bartender, who is hot, and again they were jealous.

By the time I was driving home to my happy house I had dropped about $500 on them, but made about $12,000 on deals, loans and referrals, with more to come. I've got that aura, you know, people want to be around me. I pay for the drinks, they pay for my life. It works for me.

Wolfowitz

I read the news. I have to keep up. I have to know what Bernake is thinking because interest rates really can change how we do business. There are always ways to do business, but we have to know what the prevailing conditions are.

But I've been reading about Paul Wolfowitz and how dumb he was. He is supposed to be so smart that our government believed him and we went marching off to war to do good and get rid of evil. Yes, we are getting screwed, and getting our asses handed to us by a bunch of crazies running around in the desert, in a place we should never be and a culture we don't understand. So, that was all partly his fault. Not so smart.

Now he has not only screwed up the world but he has screwed himself, and for a really stupid reason: over some woman.

He's a powerful guy, sixty-four years old, and he still gets himself wrapped up by the inviting promise of a little nookie. How good can she be that she got him to throw his career in the toilet?

I can imagine the conversation. Riza tells him, look Paul, I'm a Muslim and I should be all covered up. No one should see these tities except my husband, the other women in the harem and maybe the unic. Expecially not you -- you're a Jew! So if you want to play with these golden globes you are going to have to pay big and set me up for life.

And the asshole went and did it.

I remember my first wife giving me this kind of shit. I dumped her ass a long time ago.

Of course, I'm still paying, but it hasn't cost me my job.

Call from my brother

My brother called yesterday. he wanted to know if I called my mother last week for Mother's Day. Of course I did. He just wanted to act like a guy in charge. He has always tried to do that. He's an asshole, and always has been.

My brother is the star of my mother's life, even though he's a phoney and a bum. He's back living with my motheer now that his porn-video store has been crushed by the Internet.

He was always smart but lazy. He did well in school until he had to study and then he cheated. He got through college that way too. He was charming and a blow-hard and could fool people for a while, but eventually they all got sick of him.

He was supposed to go to medical school but he crashed his car in his junior year and had to leave college. It was really a lot of shit. I think he was failing his chemistry course and couldn't tell my mother. That's when Patti realized he was a bum, so she left him. She came to tell me why she was finsihed with him, and I told her how much better I was than him anyway. She took me up on it and we had a thing for that whole summer. it was great. I was just starting college and she was just finishing. We were both working down at The Cape and screwing in all these great places.

My asshole brother never forgave me for that. He still yells at me about it.

If he doesn't I remind him.

today

What did I think about today?
Today I got upset because Allen, the guy I work with, is an idiot. Allen actually works FOR me because this is our family business. I realize that he has been here ten years longer than me, so it gives him some standing, but still, the decisions he makes drive me nuts. He's an idiot and maybe a racist.

We build, sell and finance condos. We have three sets of them for sale now. A nice Black couple comes to look at a few, and they seem interested. She was a real babe. Her body was big and round like those great Black women get to be. None of that skinny, skinny stick look that some white chics cultivate.

Anyway, Allen sits with them and runs the numbers and tells them that they don't qualify for enough money.
I couldn't beleive it! That schmuck sent away business. They were here, they were interested.

I don't think it's legal to send away any minorities. If they want to buy we are supposed to find a way for them to buy. There is always a way to get money, even now when everyone is getting angry at mortgage people. We are being blamed because people want houses or condos. I think we should find a way. They want a place of their own. We need to sell them. What's wrong with that?

Suddenly, Allen is into saying it's not" ethical". He's the one who sold the place to the pimp.

How come?

People who know me would certainly ask -- "Hey, Guy, how come you are writing a blog? What the hell are you doing? What would you have to say?"

These are good questions. I am writing to find out the answers. Acutally, I am writing becasue my wife, let's call her Tammy, has a blog. Her blog is all about her spiritual journey, and how she has found meaning in her life. She is the one who told me to open up my mind and my heart and see where it leads me.

So, I've been thinking about what she said, and what I decided is that it would be best if she never read what goes on in my mind and heart. The first thing that came to my mind was something that would get us into a fight pretty quickly.

But the idea of writing a blog intrigued me. I wondered what it is I might say. So, I will give it a shot. I can't imagine writting every day like Tammy does. She goes on about our wonderful daughter and the sky and the flowers, and all the stuff she puts in her scapbook. She doesn't mention the great sex we have -- See, she be mad that I did, but to me, it's important.

I also don't know who the hell would read this blog. But there must be all kinds of people out there because Tammy has a whole bunch of people she now talks to on the computer about how we are all part of one great spirit.

If any of you want to comment on whatever it is that I am going to say. Fine. But I can't imagine that I will answer you, or respond, or read your stuff. But don't let that stop you, if you are so moved. I will read it if you say it.

So, tune in next time and we will both see what I have to say.