My yahoo personals matches...

My Side of the Story.

I am a loyal friend and a good listener. This is my curse.
At my previous place of employment I sat next to an older woman whom I'll call Teri. Teri was one of the top performers in our department every month, but she was older than the rest of the team and thus didn't bond with our group of lunch eating, happy houring, inter-office romance having crew.

Due to my proximity to her desk and my personable nature I got to know her better than most. She took this as an invitation to tell me, in great detail, all about her deadbeat ex-husband and her cheating current husband, the intricacies of the offense of her kids' pee wee football team, and her issues with management (This we had in common). She had a habit of using me to invite herself to lunches and happy hours at which others didn't want her; always putting me in an awkward position.

At one point she aked me to car pool with her and I accepted because I didn't live close to work and I was putting $75 in my gas tank every time I fill up. That gave her more time each day to talk at me about her failing marriage. The woman's life was coming apart and I was sympathetic. I gave her an ear. Then she invited me to come see one of her kid's football games on a Saturday. I missed a couple, but she wouldn't let it go. Finally, I went.

Around this time I quit my job and didn't hear from her until last week. She got my email address from my buddy Funky D who still works there. She sent me an email. I didn't respond. She has my cell number from when we car pooled, so she called me and gave me the standard psycho woman's greeting, "What, you don't respond to emails!?"
She talked me into meeting her for some margs after work on Friday because I didn't have the stones to say no. From 6 to 8 PM I drank margs and ate some kind of skewered chicken while she told me all about how her divorce was finalized, she had lost 75 lbs during the divorce because she wasn't eating or sleeping, and my former place of employment sucks even worse than when I left. I got the impression she wanted me to tell her that she looked great, but I'm not going to encourage eating disorders, so I completely ignored the wieght loss. She knows I love baseball so she asked me if I would want to go to a D-Backs game if she got tickets. I shrugged.

NOW...
I'm getting calls from several of my friends still working in Dante's inferno telling me that Teri has made comments suggesting that we are seeing each other. I also got another email from her entitled "Pudge Pudgard urgent please read and respond" that included nothing urgent but it did have these beauties..
"Now don't be a but and not answer my email other wise I am going to have to open a can of Whoop A$$ if you get my drift dude. And you don't want Teri opening a can of that now do you..???"

"However being that I lost allot of weight due to the divorce I had a few (karate) instructors trying to hit on me and I don't mean punches.. get my drift.. Yeah I knew you could. It was nice even though it wont go anywhere. Especially after what I went through, a women sometimes needs to hear some nice compliments about herself to remind her she still has sexappeal.. You understand what I mean right?"

"Hope your event with your family went well. Your such a family guy Pudge. that's so cool."

"Well let me know about the baseball dude and give me a call anytime you have my numbers and if you are a stranger I will come after you.. just kidding.. Well don't forget to email me back about baseball okay?? talk to you later dude.. "

This is why I hope to some day have a son. So that he may benefit from my experiences. I will tell him at a young age that being a nice guy, while noble in theory, is counter productive. It is much better to call out crazy as soon as it is identified. A well timed, "Step off crazy bitch!" can be the best strategy. Then I will send him out into the world to prosper.

Missed Chances

I just returned home from Rooster's and I don't even know where to begin. I just feel like I need to get this onto the blog. This post is going to make Whatta cry. The following is a recap of encounters that I had at Rooster's the last two Thursday's. Nothing is embellished.

Last Thursday:
I run into a guy I used to play ball with and we start shooting the shit at the bar. I notice that there is a girl that is mugging me. Hard. She's staring; the kind of staring where when they walk by their head turns on a swivel and they never break eye contact. So, I approach. I say hello and ask her name (which I don't remember). She's staring into my eyes. After a little bit of small talk I ask her if she's alright.
her: Yeah, why?
me: It's just that you haven't blinked in, like, ten minutes.
her: I'm just a little infatuated.
me:....(internal monologue: JACKPOT!)
At this point she's pressed up against me and she's got her hand in the front pocket of my jeans.
her: I think you're trouble.
me: (my inner Trent Walker telling me to be the guy in the rated R movie) I think you're in trouble.
This happens to be the pocket in which I keep my money clip, so I'm paying attention. I reach down and take her buy the hand.
me: You're not trying to take my money are you?
her: No, but I do have my hand in your pocket.
me. cool.
her: Yeah, you lost me.
She just turns and walks away. I go home. Alone. Again.

Tonight
I've been at the bar for about two hours and I've danced a few times but I'm not really getting a good vibe from any of the ladies. I grab the one available bar stool and settle in for a few beers.
The guy on the stool next to me leaves and a young lady asks if the seat is taken. I invite her to sit down.
Her: I think they've over served me.
Me: Oh, yeah. You been drinkin' Miller Light all night or have you mixed in a few shots o' Jack?
Her: I drank a bottle of wine before I came here.
Me: That'll do it. What's your name?
Her: Bones.
Me: Um, What?
Her: Bones.

Editor's note: That's not a nickname I gave her. She said her name was Bones. Seriously.

Her: I can't believe I got this drunk tonight. I have to go to work tomorrow.
Me: Who gives a shit. You don't drive a school bus for a living do you?
Her: No. I'm a dental assistant. I used to go out and drink all the time and I was kinda fucked up when I was, like, 23. Then I was normal for awhile, but now I'm 27 and I'm like fuck it. I've been drinking a lot again. I'm still normal sometimes though when I'm not being all bipolar and scizho. (I swear to god. I'm not making this up.)
Me: (Somehow feeling like I should have seen this coming) I hear ya.
Her: I'm 27, but I was out walking my dog and this 16 yr old was talking to me and he was, like, what high school do you go to? Ha! Can you believe it? I was like, "Good thing you didn't say that to me when I was drunk in a bar. I probably would have had sex with you."

Poof! Devil on one shoulder and angel on the other...
Devil: We all know the psychotic chics are great in the sack. This is your chance to stop being a nice guy and have some porno/rodeo sex. UNLEASH THE FURY!
Angel: You do not want any part of this mental patient. If there is one thing you have learned about women it's that when they warn you ahead of time that they're nuts; Believe Them.

Her: Did you come in here looking to meet a nice girl?
Me: I wouldn't come in here for that.

At this point a big greasy biker comes over and starts talking to her. They obviously know each other. I'm being ignored now so I get up and go to the bathroom.

Now I'm home. Alone. Again. Blogging at 2:36AM.

PS. I witnessed a young man get mauled by a cougar tonight. It was amazing. It actually appeared as though she rocked back on her haunches and pounced. As they tongue wrestled to a draw I actually laughed out loud. I remember thinking to myself how funny it would be if the bar could play that wildcat roar sound effect that Uof A uses at their football games.

I Heart Rooster's

I have mentioned to my friends on several occasions that I have come to frequent a small country bar in east Mesa. Thursday nights are $0.05 beer night at Rooster's Country. In the words of the immortal Toby Kieth, "I love this bar". Rooster's is a classic dive honky-tonk. I want to give those of you that have never been the Rooster's experience.

The first positive is that it is located in east Mesa not far from my apartment. I can leave after watching Always Sunny at 11:00pm and still get in plenty of fun before close.

Editor's note: Always Sunny is the best new show on TV; Outstanding.

Upon arrival you will notice two things. First, the parking lot is full. It's always full. Forget about it and park across the street at the No Tell Motel. Second, more often than not there are a few Sheriff's deputies in the parking lot. Somebody may be in the process of being thrown out. This is always entertaining.

Pay the $5 cover and proceed directly through the bar to the back patio. This is where the kegs are located. Miller and Miller Light for $0.05 a cup or $5 for a tray (about 12 cups). Now get back inside because that’s where the action is.

The whole bar is probably 1500 square feet. It features, from back to front, three quarter pool tables, a bar, a dance floor, and a stage. It’s glorious. The air is filled with smoke and the floor is sticky. There are neon beer signs on the walls and NASCAR bunting hanging from the ceiling. The seating is minimal and several tables in the back, well let’s just say you don’t want to ask those guys if they’re using their extra chair.

As for the clientele, there are bikers. There are cowboys. There are a lot of tattoos, concert t-shirts, and camouflage baseball caps. What you won’t find are any waxed chest, striped shirt wearing douche’ bags or Prada bag toting, stelleto wearing, social climbing bitches sporting the what made you think it was ok to talk to me…seriously, is that a fossil watch? Get the fuck outta here look.

I dig the vibe. Everybody’s talking, laughing, dancing, and generally having a good time. You can strike up a conversation or ask a girl to dance with no drink purchase required. I just like it more than the sexual showdown at high noon vibe that Scottsdale has where everybody sits a table with their three friends and looks at the other tables of four wondering if she’s going to send a signal or if he’s going to come over.

Editor’s note : This place also seems to me to be a unique blend of a place that the high school kids of Apache Junction can hang out, a full on cougar den, and everything in between. So, there’s something for everyone.

There is live music on Thursdays and Fridays. The house band is really good. A typical set will include covers of Tim McGraw, Willie Nelson, Lynard Skynard, and AC/DC. I was told that they’ve been in Nashville the past month working on a record. I was assured they were scheduled back this Thursday. And so am I.

PS. Anybody notice that I started out talking about a bar I like and out of nowhere it morphs into a scathing social commentary? What’s that about?

Rooster's Country

3731 E. Main St.

Mesa, 85205

Catch Up

I've been neglecting my blog pretty badly lately. Sadly, this is not for a lack of free time. Here are a few highlights to bring everybody up to speed.

• I had a meeting with several nice ladies that work in corporate communications. They said that corporate/marketing communications should be a relatively easy transition with my marketing degree and MBA. They advised me to take a journalism class, learn Photoshop/Pagemaker/Adobe, look at non-profit organizations for some experience, and to create a portfolio of writing samples. I printed my erotica and toilet postings to get me started.
• My former coworker that stuck me with the "serial killer" nickname sent me an email expressing his concern that I might be the Baseline Rapist.
• I was dismayed that after waiting to get my finger print card in the mail and driving downtown to get fingerprinted, I have to wait 4-8 weeks for the FBI to clear me and send me my I'm not a sexual predator card. Only then can I submit a stack of fingerprint cards, transcripts, and applications to be allowed to be a substitute teacher.
• I went out drinking on the west side with the whole crew for Spicoli's Bday. I was drunk + there was music + a dance floor = nothing good can happen. I danced with an attractive young girl who ended up giving me her phone number. She might have been 21, She just moved here from Utah and was the designated driver (read: Mormon), and I think she mentioned working in the mall. Also, she lives in Phoenix; A minimum of 35 miles from where I live. But here's the biggest reason why I didn't call her, so stop harrasing me Johnny Cakes, I lied to her. For the first time in my life I misrepresented myself to a woman. I told her that I was a high school English teacher and I had to drink on the west side to avoid being spotted by my students. I couldn't believe it even as I was saying it.
• In a moment of boredom/weakness I completed a Yahoo personals profile. I am unwilling to pay a fee to respond to my matches. Sweet Jesus! Are you kidding me with this Yahoo!? I live in the gorgeous woman capitol of the world! This is the best you could do!?

Editor's note: Thankfully Blogger isn't uploading my images correctly right now. I attempted to post pictures of some of the wildebeasts yahoo matched me with, but it didn't work.

• Spent an evening out drinking with PZ and the immortal Stonehenge. For the sake of time I'll just say that this spanned two calendar days, multiple towns, Mickey Hatcher's daughter, a severed nipple, copious amounts of Loaded Corona's (Add Margaritaville Island Lime to your Corona) and mind eraser shots, a sock puppet, driving into a river, and ended with the three of us having breakfast at a casino at 6AM and PZ saying, "Really? You were up $1200? And now nothing? That sucks. These tots are talkin' to a nigga."
• I was villified in my fantasy league for a blatant act of collusion with The hated Big Gay Al. All I can say is that my team improved and Al called another guy in our league a "clown fucker" which is still the best random nonsensical comeback I've ever heard. Touche'.