Chapter 32 Hawaii Bound Brunette or ( Dogs really are great bait chick magnets)

I ran into this cute young thing at a festival on Riverside Drive.  I brought my Doberman down to the festival for company and he was a great ice breaker.   She saw the two of us walking and came running over with a friend to pet the dog.  Gotta love dogs...anyway she ended up inviting me to a party that evening.  I took the dog home to B'ville and came back.  I ended up spending the night with her and but not before I got to meet her boyfriend. 

 

WTF?

 

Yeah. 

 

They were in the restaurant business, the part that serves the tables, and were planning to move to Hawaii together.    I guess there was a waiter and waitress shortage in Hawaii at the time.  Yeah, right?  

 

I hope she didn't end up turning tricks somewhere.   She was cute as a button, dark hair cut into a page boy, and yes, a major rack on a 5'7" frame.  Simply gorgeous, liberated and about 18 or 19.  She lived on the south end of Riverside just north of where it used to take a hard turn east at 81st or so.

 

Now how I figured in I do not know.  The party was really just some friends, booze and the three of us.  She let me stay after the party, we made love, and then cooked me breakfast in the morning before sending me on my way.  Now I don't know if her boyfriend was gay, or saving till they got married.  All I know is she wasn't. 

 

Which reminds me…have you heard the joke about the father catching his son jerking off and telling he had to save it till he got married?  A year of so later he comes to the father with two mason jars filled with jizz and asks his dad if he thought he had enough to get married.  Ta dum!

I am waiting for the laughter to subside.  

 

I don't know if it was just him, or both of them, but there seemed to be a lot of naiveté going around.  Or it could have been me. 

 

I kind of thought she was cheating on him, but she introduced me to him, and he went on his way, and I ended up with her for the night.    Who knows, maybe he got off on the idea of his girl making it with an older man.  I was about 27 at the time and she had to have been 8 or 9 years younger than me.  It could be I was the naive one.  He could have been in the next room listening for all I know.  Years later, I now know those kinds of things are not so strange as they once might have appeared.  I married one.  My future Ex #3 like to bring women home for me or pick them out, let me take them home, only to show up later so she could watch.  Go figure.  As far as I know, they made the trip to Hawaii and lived happily ever after.  I certainly hope they did.  On a trip to Hawaii, I wondered if I might run into her.  I know it was far fetched, but weirder things have happened.  I was on Kauai and she struck me as a Kauai kind of person.

 

No I didn't see her, but wish I had.

 

Chapter 31 Betty B.

Another nurse I ran into was a beautiful but odd bird.  She was a home grown cutie from Tulsa, but had moved on to fast times in Dallas.  This sweet Berry, got into weight lifting and from all accounts a fast living abusive husband.  She lived in the Dallas fast lane for a while, then I can only surmise that her husband, beat her up in a 'roid rage.  Don't know if other drugs were involved or not, but probably were. She told me how her ex had rearranged her dentistry and he must have really wailed on her knocking out about 4-5 teeth on the left side of her jaw.  She moved back to Tulsa and lived with her parents off Sheridan or Yale.  In the event, I met her at the County Health Clinic.  She was administering AIDS tests, and yes, I had the cajones to ask her out when I went back from the far east and got a clean bill of health.  We went out a few times and ran into each other here and there. 

She had a body that would stop a freight train.  She worked out and walked regularly in the park off Yale, speed walking, and I used to troop along with her and some doctor friends who bird dogged her.  Betty was gorgeous and had a nice customized front end too.  Body shops did and still do wonders.  She worked hard on it no doubt about it.  I know her and her ex were probably narcissistic work out freaks.  She actually tested her urine to determine if she was in ketosis or not on a daily basis.  For those not familiar, ketosis is when your body is utilizing fat instead of the preferred glucose as an energy source.  "Most medical resources regard ketosis as a pathological state associated with chronic starvation. Glucose is regarded as the preferred energy source for all cells in the body with ketosis being regarded as a crisis reaction of the body to a lack of carbohydrates in the diet."  Get the picture?  One really has to be obsessed, and also has to know what they are doing to want to stay in the state of ketosis.  The term comes from Ketone, a by-product of the breakdown of fats in the body.  It is decarboxylated into Acetone and that my friends is excreted in the urine and in the breath.  It is quite noticeable.  Know anyone with anorexia?  Smell their breath, it will have a sweet chemical smell to it.  I went on a diet program called "The 6 week cure to the middle aged middle." and it relies on ketosis to drop your weight rapidly.  It is tough to stay on, but it works.  I went from 267 to 240 in six weeks.

 

I fell out of touch with Betty and was living down on Riverside at Place One in 1988.  I came out of my apartment and saw her cruising around in her car looking lost.  I waved her down and we chatted.  Seems she was doing home checkups for patients AIDS patients and was looking for an address when I happened to see her driving around. 

 

I helped her get oriented and pointed her in the direction of the address. 

I really regret not getting to know her better, but she had a lot going on in her life.  Either she wasn't over her ex, or he had been enough to scare her off relationships, or it could have been the parents.  Her parents seemed the very religious types and had convinced her that her ordeal was divine retribution for her wayward lifestyle.  Anyway, they kept her on a short leash since she was living under their roof.

 

Chapter 30 Third World Souvenirs

I have had my share of experiences in the lands south of the border.  Today I have strong feelings about mass illegal immigration but what is one person to do?  I have worked in Bolivia, traveled to most of the countries in South America, and worked and traveled in Mexico.  I generally like Hispanics, but just what is a Hispanic or Latino?  Are not most of them just Native Americans of some percentage or other who's people at one point or another in their history were forced to adopt Spanish as their primary tongue and expunge their native religions and languages?  How does that make them Latin or Hispanic (from the word Hispanola, the first island Christopher claimed for Spain)?   Actually a Peninsularo is the correct term for anyone who was born on the Iberian peninsula of Spain.   A Creole is anyone who was born here in a colony or can trace lineage back to a Spaniard or French colonist.   Most of the so-called or self proclaimed Hispanics, or Latin Americans, are in truth, merely Spanish speaking Native Americans with some varying percentage of Spanish or Native American in their lineage.  They are not that special a breed, but are pretty much like what we call African Americans.  They have a varying ancestral genetic makeup that could include Spanish, French, or English genes along with the African.   In fact in the Caribbean basin, what pasts for Black and Hispanic are indistinguishable.  Throw in a bit of Indian, the Hindu kind, who were brought over to Trinidad, and other British colonies, and you have a real genetic stew going.

But I digress.

When I was living in Tulsa over at Place One off Riverside Drive, I had occasion to go to the Post office on Peoria.  I was waiting in the seeming endless line one day and met this gal from Colombia.  I struck up a conversation with her and had more than enough time to chat her up.  We agreed to meet later.  I took her out for drinks and I think we had dinner then went back to her place.  One thing led to another and we hit the sheets.  Now I can only assume I was great at the art of seduction, or she was fishing around for a husband to put her on the superhighway to citizenship.  In either case, I was in like Flynn in no time.

 

Being a considerate partner I decided to sample cuisine south of the border, and being a good Catholic girl, she was intrigued but not entirely relaxed and comfortable with my endeavors.  We finished our assignation and parted ways.  Before we could meet again, I noticed this familiar itching.  It wasn't in my nether regions, but in my beard.  Seems I got a few unexpected garnishes with my Colombian snack.  I once again hit the drug store and eradicated the little bastards before they spread.  I did my lower regions as well, just to be sure that I got all the sons of bitches.

Now I’m not picking on our friends from South America, but don’t they notice when their privates come alive at night and feel like a pack of mosquitos just took up residence?  I mean you have to be numb not to feel the little critters crawling around and the itch when they start to feed.  Is it that our Third World neighbors just get used to it?

 

I guess it is one of those questions we will never know.

 

Update...I wrote the above years ago, and as you can no doubt tell from the frequent news reports, new diseases are cropping up like mushrooms after a shower due to the flood of our southern neighbors across our borders to get on board the Gravy Train of the Western World.  From Kissing Bugs to Bed Bugs, the Central, South and Mexican Americans are bringing their national treasures to share with us in exchange for a better life on the Gravy Train. 

 

I think it is a measure of how wretched the refuse is, that in all my days in South America and Mexico...I never once brought home any souvenirs, rather I had to come home and get them from the recent arrivals. 

 

Such is life and the New World Order.