La Boca

The Chief was right, I needed to get out of town. I stumbled out of my bedroll and made my way to the public bathroom at the campground. Maggie loitered outside while I bathed. After a refreshing 50 degree shower, I decided we would walk the 2 miles to town to get some breakfast. Besides, Jetta needed some rest from yesterdays hard ride. Balmorhea is an oasis. The main attraction being a Spring that pumps millions of gallons day to the surface that centers around the state park. The water moves fast and provides a delicate ecosystem for minnow like fish, the species can only be found near the springs source. The fish dance with the currents of the geothermal offerings. Somehow, I was going to have to make this place seem like the Bolshoi, Sturgis, and Yellowstone all in one, to satisfy our readership at The Hub. I need eggs, red meat, and alcohol to make that happen.

Maggie and I walked along the highway, the Balmorhea Spring at our side. It irrigates the land around the town and feeds into a nearby lake as well. Dotted along the aqueduct are farms and a winery. We were definitely going there after breakfast. Perhaps media perks were appreciated. Let's hope that wines flows like the spring of this day.

The local town only supports about 800 residents, but it isn't your typical West Texas burg. There are thriving gift stores with pinata's, carved bears from wood, wind chimes, and typical Mexican trinkets and blankets. We finally stumbled upon Tiffani's. I decided to mosey on up and patronize.

Breakfast at Tiffani's

Tiffani's is a local favorite, I could tell right away this was going to be a special moment. By the way, the sign out front had the 'I' in Tiffani dotted with a heart. After being greeted at the door, I immediately wondered if I should call a local Realtor. Why? Any progressive town that allows smoking, dogs to sit in the booth with you, and serves ice cold beer before 10am, is a town worth living in.

I wondered if angioplasty was offered for dessert, because the smells and items described on the menu were lethal. Lethal but so good that is. I ordered the migas and a ribeye medium rare. Pearl Light in a can. I felt so damn good, I said,

"Bring out a 10 oz sirloin for the kid, would'ya plaese."

I lied to the waitress and said Maggie's name was' Sundance' and that mine was 'Butch.' She didn't get it. 'Sundance' dipped her nose in the salsa verde causing her to sneeze violently while I read the local paper produced out of nearby Fort Davis. On the back, it was reprinted in Spanish. I didn't really understand the parts written in English, so I immediately tossed it aside and focused on the television. Fox Sports El Paso was on, and doing an expose' on the UTEP Miner's soccer team. Riveting.

Maggie, excuse me, 'Sundance' finished her sirloin in 9 seconds. Then proceeded to slink out onto the cool floor beside the booth. Everyone came by as they left to pay there respects. Our waitress wasn't to keen on clearing a table, but she made up for it in replenishing cool beers. She was getting a big tip because she starting calling me, "Mister Butch". The whole Pulp Fiction coolness of a Mexican woman saying "Mister Butch" was a 25% bonus for her.

I was fixated on perhaps starting a pyramid to honor my achievement of discovery, but felt the eyes of a high school student group on me, and thought better of such a monument.

Finally, the teacher came by and said, "Rusth, is that you?"

Damn it, I thought, can't I just get away without being noticed.

"We'll hello, how are you doing?" I was bad with names, especially after the mind control drugs are circulating. I felt annoyed and I hope the look on my face said, 'sorry I can't remember your name, will you please remind me.' No such luck. I sort through the mental high school yearbook. Maybe Chuck, or Dave, or Eric. Nothing fit there. We weren't close friends back then, so no real foul.

His name was Trent, I caught it on his drivers license. I remembered he was a fat kid in high school, but he had slimmed down quite a bit. He just sat down and poured out his soul to me like I was a bartender. Except this bartender was getting ready for an afternoon of bumbling through wineries and taking out of focus pictures. Trent was a born again Christian and had a family. Showed off his picture of his obese wife and obese girls, ages 7 and 3. That seemed odd to me, because I remember we use to speculate harshly the Trent was gay. Not that there is anything wrong with that now. It's just that I have a "gaydar", and it's as accurate as a Super Doppler Storm Tracker Weather Center forecast.

"Just on our way back from the observatory. Taking the kidths back to San Antonio." The lisp is emphasized in "kidths". There it is. The National Sexual Orientation Center has issued a gay warning out for Trent. Be advised, that Trent is a born again Christian with possibly deep inner conflict....Yada, Yada. Who cares. Whatever floats your boat brother.

"Listhen Rusth, if your evar in town, give me a call and I can show you around. Good to thsee you again. God blessth. Caio!" Trent is definitely a traitor to his team. (Insert Brando doing the Kurtz whisper..."the horror.")

'Mister Butch' and 'Sundance' paid our way out of Tiffani's with a heart shaped I, looking forward to the Burns getting a receipt on my expense report that included the words "A.M. Bar". I felt like Lester Burnham with a slice of bacon on the side. I uttered to myself,

"I rule!"

Beer before wine? or is it Liquor before beer?

La Boca Del Vino winery is likely the laziest alcohol operation in the world. They produce only 5,000 cases of wine a year. It's all Cabernet. The bottle has nothing flashy on it. I thought it might as well just have a white label on it with black block lettering on it that simply says, WINE. There was nothing special about the tour. I walked in and asked for help from one of the migrants working inside a barn I thought might be the 'Visitor's Center.' He did not speak English, but knew what I wanted to see. He pointed to the fields of grapes. Then he pointed to the rusted cone shaped whatever. I guessed that is where the grapes fermented. The he led me to the bottling barn. There were chicken coups and a hog pen adjacent to the building. Tour over. Pictures taken. Now let's finish the mission.

Then I said the universally, or most understood phrase in Spanish that I knew to convey I wanted some alcohol. I mimed a bottle tilted to my mouth and said,

"Otra"

He laughed like a bastard, and I knew what he was thinking. "Otra" doesn't mean I want one, it means I want many more, or something close to that. Hey, I'm still learning. But I got street smarts from my days whoring around in Matamoros. Probably learned more there in one Spring Break than the 15 semesters of college I took in the language. Enough of that lament.

Anyway, he said something outloud and all of the sudden 15 migrants came rushing up with bottles. I started handing out dollars like rap star at a titty bar. All told, I scored a case for just a smidge under 60 bucks. I asked for a glass, but I got alot more than that. Immediately I was put into an old 60's model Chevrolet truck and driven to a nearby pond that had a table and chairs nestled under some old pinion trees.

"Tu comida?" The migrant inquired. That means something about food I think.

"Yes...no...SI! SI! SI! SI!"

Something was uttered under his breath but I assume the words "pinche" and "gringo" were used. He had a big smile as though he meant it like, "hey, your the bomb shizzle!" But I know it somehow meant to really state, "fucking tourist!" Anyway, 'Sundance' and I were all set. Mister Butch aka Pinche Gringo, was damn near heaven. I thought I might write the Los Lonely Boys to tell them of the location. I also thought if I started a rap group I would do so in Spanish. The band name would be Pinche Gringo and the White Raza. or maybe Blanco Raza. I don't know.

Drunken fish

Juan Miguel de la Garza was a man in his early 70's. He came by to this place each day to take his rowboat out to catch his dog food fed catfish. He noticed me right off, but didn't say a word as I mumbled the yell, "Helllloooo thare!"

He didn't even look in my general direction after I made a noise. I sat there watching him. Streams of Shur Fine dog pellets floated in the water, and all of the sudden fish mouths began to gobble up the debris. As soon as he finished the feed, he gathered his pole and got in his boat to row out to the middle. It was an amazing sight.

As he rowed, the catfish seemed oblivious to his intent. They kept gobbling and only darted whenever the boat was nearing their spot on the water. As soon as he passed by, they would continue their feast. 'Sundance' started barking at the fish on the water and suddenly the old man reversed course and headed directly to the shore where 'Sundance' was in distress. I started towards shore to protect the kid.

"Is that chour dog?"

"Yes sir, sorry about that. I was just enjoying the scenery."

"I like dogs, would chou mind if she came along while I fished?"

"No, not at all, but she might be a pain."

"No, no, not this one. She will settle down, fishing is peaceful. Chou come along too. Bring chour vino."

Wasting no time, I gathered up 3 bottles and headed for the boat. Senor de la Garza was pulling out fish after fish and letting Maggie play with them in the boat. I couldn't lie to Senor Garza, and revealed our true identities. I was sitting back watching the clouds reflect on the water in drunken bliss. I offered some up to Senor Garza, and he gladly accepted.

He said, "So chou live in Lubick?"

"Yes sir, err Senor Garza"

"Call me Jaun. So tell an old man, what is a man like chou doing at La Boca?"

"I'm supposed to be writing a story for my magazine, but the truth is I'm running away from a woman back home."

"Ahh yeas, a woman. This is why chou say 'otra' to my boyzz!... chou look troubled. Tell Juan this trouble."

Maggie tossed a fish accidentally out of the boat as I began to tell Juan about Twila. Juan de la Garza is not the kind of man to mince words, instead he chooses carefully. He sat there and listened to me, then he put his hand up as if to stop me from speaking. I stopped and he sat in silence smiling and fishing for a while. This went on for at least an hour and even though I felt uncomfortable like I had offended him, his smile reassured me I didn't, so I relaxed instead.

He took the bottle of wine, and began to sip on it and admire the taste that only a creator can appreciate. It was his, this place was him, and he was this place.

"I am glad you are hear on this day, Mr. Smith. You are a troubled man, but inside I think you have a good heart. An old vaquero knows."

"Thank you sir, I mean Juan."

"Chou need peace, but to appreciate the peace... chou must endure the pain. Only a woman can do that, give chou peace and pain."

I didn't say anything, how could I? So profound. This wine is fucking good!

Then he did the unthinkable. He motioned me to sit still and placed his finger against his mouth to tell me to be quiet. He placed his hand on Maggie to ease her tension and somehow she too knew to sit silently. He then reached down into the water and pulled out a fish with his bare right hand.

Then the triumph sprung from his voice, "Ha YAHHH hahahaha, chou see, chou must respect the peace and it will provide you with life! HAHAHA."

He took the bottle of wine, poured a little into his hand and uttered something in Spanish to the fish, it was like a prayer. Then he slips some wine droplets into the mouth of the fish, placed it in the water to let it go.

I watched as the fish floated by me upside down, wondering if a) it could ingest alcohol and b) if in my second life I could be a catfish in this pond. The catfish then sprung to life and swam away.

"Let's cook the rest up, haha! Chous will be my guest."

"I will be honored Senor de la Garza!"

"I like the way chous say that, Senor Smith."

Juan Miguel de la Garza

Senor Garza was a lonely old man, his wife Rosita had passed away from cancer a few years back. He had fathered and raised 5 boys that had all left La Boca for the cities and careers. His life's work was this 7th generation rancho in Balmorhea. He proudly recited the lineage beginning with his greatest great grandfather. Juan Alfonso was deeded the land for his service during the Texas Revolution under Sam Houston. Through droughts and pestilence, Juan Miguel had always survived with his land in place. While so many Texicans had sold out long ago for the dreams of San Antonio, El Paso, or San Angelo.

Juan Miguel also had one daughter also named Rosita, he called her Dosa. Throughout the 100 year old home, he had pictures of his bride and family portraits of days long past. Quinceneras, fiestas, and Dia de las Muertas were shared here. This evening he shared his stories and fish with me, and spoke of those gone from La Boca.

He sent his crew to fetch Jetta, while he filleted and battered the fish. He made pico de gallo as fast as a blender, with only a dull knife to aid him. Next, he produced freshly ground tortillas from corn grown on the sandy Boca fields, and shaped just this morning by his crew. He bragged that the offspring seeds he used were brought here originally by Juan Alfonso, and toasted his name with yet another glass of wine. He wrapped the fish in bacon and placed them neatly on the grill to roast on an open cooking fire that had served his family since he was just a boy.

On and on he labored, with only his 'Dosa' to aid him. She dared not get in his way, but was merely there to curse at him in Spanish for doing something that she could have easily helped to make time. Senor would have none of it, and continued furiously for 3 hours, bring snacks for me to stem the tide until his homegrown bounty was ready to serve.

Finally at 9pm, the dinner bell was rung. Into the great dining room with a 10 foot hand made pinon table and chairs that were made to last 200 years or more, the entire crew of La Boca sat down to feast. Senor finally rested at the head seat, as he waited for everyone to quietly settle. He then raised his glass of wine, and everyone else followed suit. I didn't know what the old man was saying, but it sounded more eloquent that a Shakespearean soliloquy to my ears. Senor Garza spoke steadily and firm, and everyone then stood to toast the old monarch of La Boca, then said together.

"Nuestra tierra de madre.... la boca!"

To our mother Earth, the mouth. Well, it sounds better in unison on 25 Spanish tongues. The meal lasted way into the night and then broke out in song. Juan Miguel was getting tired I could tell, but wanted one last chat with me before bed. I followed him out to his spacious patio, and he calmly lit his pipe.

"Now chou can go home and write your story. Will you tell of La Boca?"

"Oh yes Senor, I will. You are so kind and this place is an oasis of heaven."

"Thank you from my grand fathers and mothers, I am juss the caretaker of the oasis and I miss my darling Rosita. I keep busy to pass the time until we meet again. Chou are a young man, I hope chou can have what i have hads in life."

"There is no way I can ever touch this, Senor. I thank you for your day here. Of all the things in Texas, this place and you are special to see alone. I don't know if I want to pollute you with all the visits that will come."

"No, no, no, La Boca is a giver of life. It, how do you say, restorezz... and this will be good for alls the people to sees one day. My Dosa will carry on after me. Let them enjoy the wine of my grand fathers and the peace of my Rositas pinons and gardens."

"What was she like?"

"OH, Rosita was a cactus in a wildfire. The most beautiful woman in this world. Many mens wanted her, but she wanted only me. She came to me and I could never let her go. This is good? No."

"Yes it is Senor. So what did you do to win her?"

"Chou cannot win a woman, she claims chou for life, and if chou are a good man, you learn to give chour life to her. Is this Twila a good woman?"

"Well Senor, she is and she isn't. She is like your Rosita in a way, like a cactus in a wildfire. I cannot get enough of her, like your wine."

"Oh, this is good and bad Senor Smith. Good that she is like the wine... hahaha... but bad is she is not grown jus right."

"She is different. She likes many men. But yet, she all of the sudden just came out of nowhere and is mean to me and nice to me all it once and all the time. I can't explain it. She isn't anything like the others. She cusses and swears and isn't so feminine like alot of other women."

"She loves you, Senor..chou can say no more about dis. It is...and old vaquero knows. I knows like I know the fish. Be still and silent and wait for her, she will come to you, and then chou... must grab her and love her ...then learn that one day, CHou... will have to let her go. Like the fish today. I say a prayer to Rosita, and then I let her go again...until it is our time to swim together again under the pinon trees."

He smiled in his peace. He left me in silence to retire to bed. I sat there alone with feint noise of happy people singing and the sound of the breeze through the garden. I wondered if Twila was thinking of me the way I was thinking of her now. There has to be more to her than this. I just can't be feeling this way, unless that were true. Tomorrow I ride again, but tonight I miss Twila like I have never missed a woman before.

Road trip with The Lizard King

I'm a back door man

Hey, all you people that tryin to sleep

I had a dream that night after the boat show. Twila and I were getting married at the bait shop lobby on Buffalo Spring Lake. Twila walked down the aisle in her cheer leading outfit to the tune of Back Door Man by The Doors. Don't ask me why, it's just a dream and it is one of my favorite songs. Maggie was my best man and Strut Strutters was the bridesmaid. The flower girls were Skye and the other Twilas on the Renegade cheering squad. Rex was the preacher conducting the service. He said, "you better pony up that ring."

Then I kissed Twila as Naomi was crying as Alex was screaming, "God damnit, this costs too musch."

I awoke in a sweat as Twila was asleep beside me. She looked peaceful. In fact, I just stared at her in awe. I have never seen her still until that moment and I could feel her security in my bed. I never wanted her in the deep way you want a woman until that moment. She had a grin on her face.

Even though the dream stopped when I awoke, the music never really left my brain. I muttered to myself.

"The men dont know, but the little girl understand."
I eat more chicken, than any man ever seen, yeah, yeah

So I'm sitting there at lunch with Chief as he is looking over the racing form and calling his bookie in Vegas to make a bet on race in Miami. What a country! Anyway, I am reciting the details of my dream to Chief. Chief minored in psychology when he was in college in the, "horse and buggy era", as he would have you believe.

He knew all this obscure shit about Immanuel Kant and Freud. It seemed to intertwine somehow with his analysis of the Tech Veer offense versus the full court press. The guy made sense on paper, but never in real life conversation, except to me of course. Chief liked to listen to me because I think my pathetic existence somehow exceeded his own in his mind. The Chief was competitive and he liked to win. But as his job was for so many years, he could tell you exactly why you lose and why you will continue to lose. Uplifting.

"So let me get this straight, you have already met her parents, she is sleeping in your bed every night, and you don't like the kind of person she is."

"You could say that."

"I just did. Jesus, this is like picking a quinella at Aqueduct in the rain. You just don't do it. No matter how hard the tip is or how much you believe it, YOU JUST DONT DO IT." Everything hard gets translated into gambling analogies.

"So I'm fucked then. I knew it."

"Wait a second Russ, this is the chick you want to change? Damn man, she changed you in 4 fucking days. She sleeps with football players, dresses like a whore, calls you out and EMBARRASSES YOU in public. This is complete and utter bullshit my friend. You know what your problem is, your pussy whipped. That's it man, once they got that they aint doin shit."

"So what do I do?"

After a long pause and stare, the Chief grins and says, "You have to ignore her. Just a few days and then she will be ripe for the picking my friend. RIPE! Trust me, I know women. I know women so well you don't even know how well I know women."

"But she lives nearby, hell it's in the next building over. She has a key. I'm screwed."

"No your not, no your not, no YOUR not!...I'll send you on assignment."

"Where?"

"Who gives a fuck where, just go get a story or something. Go to Vegas. DO Something other than be here, OKAY?" All roads of enlightenment lead to Vegas for Chief.

"Okay. But I will have to put off the Twila article until next month. That okay with you?"

"Russ, I'm thinking travel piece brother. That's what we need this month anyway. So I will see you in my office next Tuesday with a completed travel bullshit piece ready for editing and print, Okay?"

"Leaving now. One more thing, do I call her?"

"No, leave a message. But whatever you do, don't fucking call her man."

Out here we is Stoned
Immaculate.

The spirit road has many paths, but only the Volkswagen can forge the truest. I felt like John Wayne on my paint horse named Jetta. Maggie would play the role of Indian scout or Cookie in this one I reasoned. Open range and deep thinking inspired by the nothingness dotted with pump jacks and steel irrigation. I'm not exactly my generations Jack Karouac but I'm no hack either. I admit, I am just a cheap dime store tripe writer, I long since gave up becoming Hemingway. Those guys looked for trouble and that is what made them great. I avoided trouble and found it anyway, that must be the difference between mediocrity and successful discontent. At least I'm still alive, and maybe I might find my road and the sun that also rises as it falls.

Ill tell you about texas radio and the big beat

I listened to Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, Oasis, Coldplay, and Conway Twitty. I got bored with the CD changer and caught the tail end of a High School Baseball game between Reagan County and Crane. Crane won. Then I flipped over the dial to FM and caught a Classic Rock station in San Angelo. They play the Los Lonely Boys two hits every other song because those boys busted out the charts from there. I still do not know how far is heaven, but I have heard the question asked before. Maybe the answer lies with Ron. Ron's voice came over the airwaves a few times doing commercials for the likes of Shithole Ford in Shithole, Texas and Tractor Pull Extravaganzas at the Scurry County Convention Center. Wherever the fuck that is. Ron rules and can make anything sound cool to check out.


Wandering, wandering in hopeless night

I lost myself heading south somehow. It is easy to do, especially when Odessa is somehow involved. I skirted past the "Petroplex" and found myself free in the darkness with only the fluorescents to guide my horse. I didn't think I would avoid Twila by calling at the hour I did, but I missed her and found the recording instead.

South I thought, but not too far this time. I have been to Big Bend and it still leaves me feeling like the moon landing was a farce. I don't believe that it was, but if it were, Big Bend would have been a good place to fake it. I settled on Fort Stockton, then changed my mind to Balmorhea instead. I didn't have enough time to go back to the moon on this trip.

We pulled into the Balmorhea State Park about 2am. I pulled out my bedroll, watered the horse, and laid my pistol by my side should any posse try and jump me. I didn't really have a pistol, my only weapon was a Dell laptop. It shoots the straightest for me. I instantly fell asleep after Maggie offered to stand guard, like a good Indian guide, she can sleep with her eyes open and can hear whispers a mile away.

Out here in the perimeter there are no stars

The sleep didn't last long. I asked Maggie if she could sing in Spanish so I could pretend I was watching Telemundo. When I was in college and flunking Spanish at a record still unbroken at Texas Tech. I flunked the first year course 3 times. That was until I found out about bribery and the power of cheap alcohol to Teaching Assistants. I digressed, anyway I use to fall asleep to Telemundo broadcasts at night in bed thinking I would somehow absorb the language in my sleep. It still works to this day. The big breasted chicas dancing in my dreams. If only Twila was Spanish. I still can't get that image from the night before out of my head. I guess I ruined it.

Back in those days everything was simpler and more confused

Alex and Naomi

Shootout at The Golden Corral

I met Alex and Naomi at the Golden Corral after work. I just had to meet the woman that brought Twila into the world. Twila was late, so Alex, Naomi, and I decided to go inside and start the dinner without her. Right away, I knew I liked Alex. He was tall and skinny for his surprising height. Alex Caro stood 6'6, or maybe he just looked taller with the plastic back brace covering his brush popper shirt from the early 90's. He also had a finely groomed grey 'mulletino', it wasn't permed but you could tell he had spent a great deal of time on it. I'm sure that he has had the same hair style since the 70's and was proud that it had grayed out. Alex has a smile as big as Dallas, and I could tell that he loved life and everything about it.

Naomi Caro was everything I thought she wasn't when picturing her daughter. Naomi was polite, gentle, patient, and listened intently to every word. You could tell where Twila had gotten her figure. Naomi's face wore the years of bouncing around husbands and it had been a little hard on her. But even still, she looked pleasant. You just knew right away that the Caro's has at last found some love and peace and they were enjoying it. I liked them right away, and I could tell that they liked me.

"So do you like the Cwboyzz?" Alex asked with a smile. It seems that back in his native San Luis Potosi, the Dallas Cowboys were very popular. Even though Alex had moved from there 30 years ago, he still never lost that native accent. From now on, I will refer to America's team as simply, the CWBOYZZZ. Emphasis on the end.

I said,"Yes, I grew up not far from the stadium in Irving. Never missed a game on television as a kid. You ever been to a game?"

Alex said, "No god damnit, I always gots to gos to work earlys. But not anymore. Pendejo's fucked up my back, man. I got my cheque so I'm going to take it easy." Then he started laughing. He had the gleam in his eye of a lottery winner you see on the news.

Naomi said, "Al, we can't just live like the Trump's now. We need to save that money in case you need another surgery."

Alex smiled at his wife, "Your right, but we are going to see the Cwboyzz finallies. Donald Trump can kiss my ass. You ever watch the Prentice?"

I started laughing, he knew that I found his accent humorous, so he hammed it up. Alex is good people. So I decided to play back. "The Prentice, I could win that show totallies, man."

They looked at each other for a second to decide if that was a foul or not, then Naomi started smiling and cracking up first. It was by far the best meal conversation I had had in a while, that is until the Texas Tornado came rushing through in a pink mini skirt and Harley Davidson tank top on. Twila entered the dining room looking to chew some ass.

"Why don't you evar answer your fucking cell phone?" At first I thought she was talking to Naomi, because I wasn't aware that Twila had my number. I was wrong, she wanted a piece of me in front of her parentals.


"Nice to see you too, Twila. I had it off because I didn't want to interrupt the meal."

Twila swelled up and blasted, "My car broke down on the Loop. I had to hitch hike over here and give a trucker a blowjob for a ride."

Naomi squealed, "Twila Jolene Barr, you didn't!"

Twila smiled, "just fuckin with ya." Then announced to the table. "Russ thinks I'm a whore and fuck evarbody in sight."

The parents immediately glared at me as if I had pissed my pants and been spitting up food like an invalid. I wanted to die.

Twila then rushed off to the buffet line as I sat there and squirmed in the awkward silence. Nobody knew what to say. Twila returned with a plate of cakes and cookies, salad, and a diet Tab.

"Ididn't he cute ya'll?" Twila was beaming.

"I think you inbarrased him Twilazz." Finally, Alex to the rescue!

"You need to watch your mouth young lady. It's not polite to come in here acting like a tramp." Naomi scolded.

"NAAOMI, I wuz just kiddin. He's a sweetie and its fun to watch him puff up and get all red." Twila felt no remorse as she alternated bites between the German chocolate and the harvest salad. I sat still in puffiness. To hell with Twila, there is no hope.

"Well hurry up and finish your food, we want to get there and back home in time so Al can watch the Busch series qualifyin. Twila, we just got a satellite installed. Al and me, we just love it. It can even record stuff and we don't need no VCR no more."

"Yeah Naaomi, it's called a fucking Dee Vee Ess and it can record faster."

"Twillazz, hurry up I want to check out the boatzz!"

Naomi sat there 'inbarassed' and looks straight at me and says, "I don't know what a nice man like yew is doin with Twila."

I was about to answer then Twila butts in, "Naaaomi, he liikes me cuz I love on him good." Then she just grins and chews at me and then back at her mother. They both smile and get that look on there face that women get when they know they hold some power over their men.

(Somewhere in my subconscious, Prince is singing Pussy Control.)

Alex looked at me devilishly and was smiling. He didn't say anything and he didn't have to. We have a connection that all men have, and we acknowledged it in that look. They have that power and is much as we hate it, we love it. I don't think I recognized that within me until Twila stated the obvious.

I'm screwed. I don't like it, but I need it. The mantra begins again.

The South Plains Boat Show

Someone once told me, that Lubbock has the most per capita boats in the State of Texas. This is remarkable because there is only one lake worthy of boat travel in the county, and in other parts of the state this 'lake' would be referred to as a pond. In fact, there are only two more 'lakes' within a 150 mile radius of Lubbock, Texas and for the boating parts of the year, these lakes are suffering from drought. Nevertheless, Lubbock has boats and a big ass boat show three times a year.

I grew up water skiing and boating as a child, but I never really got into the 'motorhead' boating mentality of what boat is really better than the other. If it runs, doesn't leak, and can pull a skier out of the water, it is a good boat to me. I remember my father spending small fortunes each summer to tune up and maintain our family boat. It was a constant chore for us all before, during, and after each outing. It was worth it if we used it often, but as the years went on we went less frequently, and then we just stopped all together.

Being back at the Boat Show rekindled some of the great memories of my youth on the water. I was surprised how much boating technology has improved. I was also not surprised at how proud the manufacturers are of their plexi-fiber creations. Boats cost alot of money. But little do people know, they cost alot more to keep afloat.

Twila spent most of her time there perusing the redneck wear shops that dot the sides of these type shows. You would think that Body Glove, or Quiksilver apparel items would be frequent, but they aren't. This is Lubbock. There was everything from Western Wear to biker wear. Twila tried to put a 'doo-rag' on my head with a skull figure riding a dirt bike with flames sporting the sides. She said I would look "hot" with it on. She made me try it on my head, then took it off and smarted.

"It don't look good on you."

I could tell she was disappointed. I wasn't.

Next she devoured some sort of fried sugary chocolate covered pastry. I hesitate to use the term 'pastry', but that is the most accurate description. I passed on that as well.

"I wouldn't look good on me." I said, then I made an obscure reference from Caddyshack to the gang.

"But it looks good on you though." They didn't get it.

And so it went. Twila was looking at trash like a child staring at a vending machine in the restaurant lobby. You know, the ones where you stick a quarter in and try and fetch a cheap doll of some sort out. Naomi bought her a Gucci knockoff purse. It was purple and the size of a football. From then on, whenever I needed to find Twila in a crowd, I could just look for neon purple football.

Don't judge a book by its cover

Alex spent the day with me in tow looking at yachts and other expensive boats. It was the same conversation over and over.

"Man, this one looks fuckin nice, man." Big smile as he gawked.

The sales-showman would try and avoid Alex, probably because he estimated a 6'6 Mexican in mulletino and brush popper backbrace would be unworthy of purchase would finally come over and ask me.

"Would you like to get inside, sir?"

Alex would say, "Yeah, can we look at it inside. How musch is it, man"

Then they would again look at me and say $35,000 or $110,000 or $500,000 and then Alex would whisper.

"God Damnit, fuck that man, thas too musch."

But Alex never got too disappointed, and he enjoyed looking at each and every boat. I don't know if he noticed the judgmental racism, if he did, he never complained or said so. I noticed and wondered if they only knew. I couldn't rub two dimes together and Alex could probably buy whatever he wanted. But I was white with short hair and I had a tie on. Looks can be deceiving.

On the way out, he finally admitted.

"I would have bought that one boat me and youzz wuz lookin at." I didn't know which particular of the 200 he was talking about, but I went along.

"Why didn't you buy it, Alex?"

"Motherfuckin pendejo, I didn't like how hez talkin to me. Fuck that guy man. I'm goin to buy my cousin Hectors boat and fix it up."

"Good plan, Alex."

I really liked him.

We walked to the car to leave, Naomi pulled me aside and gave me a big hug. She looked at me like I was one of her own. She didn't say anything at all except, "It was soo niice to meet yew." The way people hug you says alot, and it told me she liked me with Twila.



I'm joining the Mexican Navy

It's Hamburger Helper and Twila helped.

Smokey's on your tail

After being 5 hours late for work on Monday, I spent the rest of the afternoon dodging my Publisher, Mr. Burns, at The Hub magazine. Everybody in town refers to it as West Texas Monthly, it's original name but we got sued by a similar named publication and rather than fight in court with no money, they just changed the name instead.

A couple of times he glared at me harshly through the blinds in his office while I pretended to work on the computer. We were only 10 days to press and even though he thought all was well on my article for the month, I still haven't found anything worth writing about. In staff meetings, I made it habit of making up the most vivid and compelling story ideas without actually revealing any details. He wasn't the smartest man in the world, nor the most compassionate either, so fooling him each month as to my topic of work was a small measure of daily rebellion.

So while the rest of the staff took off early to pursue research and leads, I had to fore go that daily tribal ritual and stay and look busy. While browsing on the internet, looking at Sports highlights and reading blogs, I decided to take a look at the Renegades website. Twila's picture was there. All of the cheerleaders had biographies that had the layout of a centerfold questionnaire. This was my favorite.

Name: Tammie

Age: 22

School: Farnsworth Cosmetology Junior College (I'm guessing they haven't quite achieved regular college status.)

Turn ons: touchdowns and men and happy hour.

Turn offs: Closing time

Favorite place in the whole world to visit: Golden Fried Chicken in Brownfield and Beaver's in Amarillo.

Goals: To help the Renegades score.

Finally at about 4pm, my editor, we call him "Chief", rumbles over to my desk and asks me to come visit with him in his office. Chief is greatness! Chief hired me fresh out of college and took a liking to my work immediately. While I was in training, The Chief would often take me to diversionary trips to the Horse track in nearby Clovis, NM. He goes about once a week in season and has did no less than 4 articles on horse racing and gambling politics since the magazine began 8 years ago. Chief is the first to organize office pools, the last to leave happy hour, and the first one to work every day. I have never been to the Chief's residence, and in fact I'm not really sure he has one.

His office has always got clothes hanging all over, racing forms on the desk, and pictures of him with different football coaches and players. He started his career as a Sports writer for the local paper, but was let go after his failed marriage with the Senior Vice President's daughter whom was 10 years his junior. The Chief was a perpetual 25 year old in a 55 year old mans body. By far, I was his favorite staff member and closest friend at work. I kept his secrets and he kept mine.

We gonna do what they say can't be done

Chief said, "Smith, where in hell were you this morning."

I said, "Chief, I was bed down with dolly after a late night at the Renegades party."

"Damn boy, give me the details, is she something?"

"Chief, I can't lie to you. I believe this woman has slept with 4 different men since I met her on Thursday."

"One of must be you, that has to count for something."

"Yeah Chief, it counts, but how high does the count go?"

"So she is a cheerleader or a groupie?"

"She works as a leasing agent in my complex, she cheers and dances for the games, and God only knows what she does during the rest of the time."

"No offense buddy, but what is she doing with you? Your kind of a stiff. Sounds like she needs a man like me."

"Chief, there is no doubt that that woman would become trapped in your web of intrigue, lies, and deceit. So what's up?"

"Burns is on my ass about you. He is concerned that you don't have anything and that you aren't spending enough time at your work. I told him you were on it as usual, but I just wanted to make sure. I assume you haven't done shit this month on an article, which isn't a big deal. As long as it is better than a Nursing Home sales brochure."

"Well, as long as the standards are high at The Hub, you can rest assured that I will deliver a cut above the rest. But that being said Chief, I don't got shit to print. I got nothing... really. Reynolds is already doing the story on the new football team, so that one is out. But I did have one idea I been bouncing around."

"What's that?"

"Well, this girl, she is a fucking mess Chief, I mean a real lost puppy. I was thinking I could do a progressive work on how a man changes a woman."

"Smith, you cannot undo what has been done by the good Lord. (Laughing) You want to change a woman, that simply cannot be done and especially by you."

"Well, maybe. But damn it would be highly controversial and fun to write and read. When was the last time we had some real fun around here? Let me do it, Chief. It will sell all over the County."

"OK Smith, and just to sweeten the pot, we wont tell Burns until its already been shipped and printed."

"Big Chief, that is brilliant. I will get to work."

Diablo Sandwhich and a Dr. Pepper

I came home and Twila was cooking "supper", as she would put it. I would call it something much different. My dog was laying on the mountain of a black man in the couch. Strut Strutters was asleep and snoring furiously. Maggie didn't even budge or offer a smile. She just laid there.

Twila came over and kissed me on the check and whispered, "Hi honey, me and Strut decided to surprise you with Hamburger Helper. I even got a salad at the store cause I know you like that shit."

The salad she pointed too had at least a cup and half of Ranch dressing with what looked like 5 pounds of salted pork on it. Is it the thought that counts? I immediately went into my room to change clothes. I noticed that the bed was made. That struck me as odd because I don't think Twila even makes her own bed. Of course, a bolt of emotion and pain coursed through me. Could it be that Twila had worn ole Strut out on my bed, felt bad about it, so she decided to run to the Quik Mart across the street and fix some Hamburger helper? Well, the salad came from the store, so that wasn't exactly the correct details. But I bet they had a nice romp even so.

I stood in the closet for a moment and the mantra was coming back, Your such a.... and then I heard Strut speaking to Twila.

She yelled, "Russ, get the fuck out here, Struts leavin and wants to say bye."

I went to greet Strut as he said, "Thats a nice dog, dawg."

"Thanks Strut, what you doin over here?"

"Me and Twila were looking for me a place, I made the team so I needs a place, she showed me yours. I hope you dont mind, I made the bed jus to see whut it look like neat."

I actually believed him when he said it, but as soon as he left I felt violated again. In fact, I was wanting to pick a fight. But that all changed. Twila stopped cooking and started violating me. She sripped the strip that is somehow encoded in her DNA. Deep inside my brain Joe Cocker was singing You Can Leave your Hat on.

Baby take off your coat
Real slow
Take off your shoes
I'll take off your shoes
Baby take off your dress
Yes, yes, yes

You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on

Go over there, turn on the light
Hey, all the lights
Come over here, stand on that chair
Yeah, that's right
Raise your arms up in the air
Now shake 'em
You give me reason to live
You give me reason to live
You give me reason to live
You give me reason to live

She's a good timin woman in love with a Lazy Boy Man.


Hamburger Helper with drenched salad and Arbor Mist wine never tasted so fine. I was just sitting in my chair wondering why I get suckered into these deals with this type of woman. Twila cusses like a sailor, loves like a whore, and cooks like first day clerk at McDonald's. I was beginning to dig it. For all the wrong reasons of course. I guess nobody wants to be alone. If there is no Coca Cola in the fridge, an orange Shasta will sometimes have to do, especially if Twila can reuse the can for an ashtray afterwards.

Twila sat there across the room just staring at me for great lengths of time. It was annoying me, be I dare not be rude. I haven't had that kind of smiling in my direction in a while. She interrupted the television spewing non stop updates about campaign finance and Iraq and stated firmly,

"I liiike yew....your so awesome to me."

"Thanks Twila, I appreciate the nice dinner you made for me after a long day of nothing at work."

She laughed, "Yer sooo funny! I just can't wait til Naomi and Alex get to meet you. There comin in tomorrow for the boat show cause Alex hurt his back at work and got a settlement. He's my mom's husbend. He's Mescan but you will liike him. Thare gettin a boat and I can't wait to go this summer. We're going to have some fun."

"Alex doesn't sound Hispanic." Ignoring the future invitation I hoped I would never have to accept.

"He aint no Spic Russ, hes Mescan. It's short for Alejandro. Wes jus call him Alex. He used to shoot dice at my old dads dice game and that's whare he met my mom. Alex has a job so mom went with him. She met my second dad on the internet, but he was a letdown to her and the house turned into a bar."

"Good times." Concealing the orgasm of surprises brought forth.

"Will you please come with me to the boat show tomorrow? I will be nice to you all night."

"OK Twila, but you have to promise me one thing."

"What's that."

"Don't bring random people up to my apartment and let me know when your going to be in here. It freaked me out a little bit when I got home and there was a black man on the couch loving on my dog. I don't have anything against Strut, but damn we just met on Thursday."

"Well fuck you then, I'm fuckin sorry I wanted to do something nice fer you motherfucker."

"No Twila, it's not that, that was nice, it's just that I was a little freaked. Imagine if Rodney was over on your couch rubbing on Buster's balls asleep while I made you Frito Pie. You would feel awkward i bet." I thought that was funny as hell to think about but I dare not laugh.

"Bullshit, you just don't like that Strut is a friend and you are jealous. You were bein a pussy at the party last night and ever one saw it. So what, I got alot of guy friends, I can if I want to."

Busted! Twila can read minds it looks like.

"Fine Twila, if that is what you think then I'm sorry. It's just that we just met and it has been a whirlwind with you. Your cool and all, but I like to take things a bit slower and deal with less craziness. You can understand that, right?"

"Well, your just not use to hot women that like to party I guess. Lighten up and quit being a pussy all the time."

"We'll do."

So I just sat in my chair uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. Twila spent all evening on the phone making plans with her mom, she called her by her first name, Naomi. The name would screech in my brain every time she said NaaaaaOmi, and she held nothing back.

"Well Russ, you know that guy I wuz tellin you about that wupped Duhgs ass the other nite. He wants to go with us to the Boat Show. Aint Alex comin, Naomi? Well ya'll better get ya'lls happy ass up her after werk, I like to eat before all them people pick throught the Golden Corall buffet." On and on it went. I tried to think of something I could say or do to get Twila out of my apartment, but I could never come up with anything besides hurting her feelings and then having to endure the shit, fuck, damn insult hurls. The mantra re-emerges, I'm such a pus... but then in the nick of time, I push it back down.

"Twila, get off the damn phone."

"OHKAY, HOLD ON! Love yew Naomi, bye and tell Alex adios fer me. Bye"

Throwing the phone down she looks alive.

"Whut?"

I get the courage up and ask,"Do you like those makeover shows?"

"Yeah, I especially liike the won whare they take them fat pepple and make em skinny and buy new clothes and have that big ole party."

"Great, what would you say if I said that you could do something like that too."

"Well, I aint no fatass Russ." Slapping her ass and shaking her breasts again.

"No, not like that one, but maybe do something where you change everything about yourself. Maybe go to school, get a degree, get a better job, learn new things, and make yourself a better person."

"Shit, I aint goin to college. Them people dont do shit anyway. I leased all them apartments to them kids and they dont do shit cause they got Daddy's money and sit around and smoke dope all day."

"Sure Twila, but I'm talking about actually learning and going to school. I am talking about making yourself like those high class models sorta. You know like the ones on that Runway show you like. They are refined, some are smart, and others have alot of class. Does that sound good to you?"

"Well, I guess so, but I don't see whut yer talkin about."

"Give me a few days, and I will come up with something and let you decide. If you dont like it then you dont have to do it."

"I aint doin shit I don want to do." Shaking her head like a Supreme as in Gladys Knight.

Off to bed I went, wondering just how much I was going to regret my hungover makeover idea.

Then I decided to be the lizard king, as well all should know, the lizard king can do anything. Twila's doors were about to be opened and all I had to do was figure out how to change her perception of reality. Besides, if she can conquer Hamburger Helper, she can conquer anything!

Oh Mickey your so fine...

I've been to the desert on a horse with no name

Well a girl with a stripper name anyway. After our fine cuisine at Casa Ole', we headed to the strip. Twila emerged from the beer store with 2 4 packs of Strawberry Wine coolers and a pack of Virginia Slim lights. We proceeded to my place where to complicate my stomach issues, I had the revenge of badly fermented fruit. Twila sang the hits all the way home. One was some rap song I heard before called Smack That. She loved it, Flipped again and stumbled onto Every Rose has its Thorn. It was American Idol on Turkish hashish. Twila doesn't roll down the window when she smokes because she fears she might start a fire on the side of the road, never mind the 4 alarm blaze inside the Cougar.

Cops, Cheaters, and Project Runway

Uplifting television at it's finest. I have nothing of substance to report other than it gave me great joy to see the thousands of looks on Twila's face as she guzzled alcohol and commented on every single camera shot for what seemed like 10 hours. I finally feel asleep next to her on my couch. Then I began to fake it. Twila got a text message then went in my bathroom and placed a call.

She shook me but I did not budge, I wasn't leaving and I damn sure wasn't going to answer any more questions or partake in Chances R.

Two Doors down there laughing and drinking and having a party.

I regained some strength with a nice granola flax seed breakfast, topped with ground gourmet organic coffee. Maggie and I went for a walk to the nearby park right after. It was a great spring morning and I could feel Maggie's pleasure in sniffing the left overs from other nearby dogs. I just do not get it.

I felt Twila's presence as I noticed her car parked near her door facing the park. I deliberately hid our excursion behind the trees. I just couldn't let my peace be interrupted. As soon as I thought that, I caught a glimpse through the brush and saw Twila outside of her door in a short pink satin nightgown with a terribly silk screened purple butterfly on it. She was hugging two men that looked like they were the size of NFL linebackers.

I can't lie, I felt a little bit jealous. As Maggie started to finish her business, I thought of all the sexual positions the three of them had been engaged in throughout the early morning. I was angry that she would leave me for an orgy with the Denver Broncos, but what is there different to expect. She is a single sexually active young woman in the community. I really don't like her personality, vocabulary, interests, or appearance in the least. Well, maybe I like her a little bit. Otherwise I wouldn't be feeling jealous.

I can't get her out of my head

So all morning and into the noon hour I stewed around my apartment chain smoking and running through all of the things I would say to fucking Twila. Why do I care? I can't explain it in the same way I can't explain why dogs need to sniff on dog shit. About that time, the knock on the door comes. It's Twila. As soon as I see her, I cannot believe my eyes. She is dressed up in a black and purple cowgirl outfit reminiscent of a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. It was evident she had spent the better part of the morning getting her hair and makeup just right.

Twila said, "you want to come watch me cheer? I get free tickets and I want you to bring your dork friends to watch all us hot girls wiggle."

I said, "Wow, I didn't know you were a cheerleader! So you are a cheerleader for the Renegades?"

Twila starts twirling her pom poms and begins to shack her breasts quickly to give me a taste of the action in store for the day. I can't believe I said yes, but I just had to see this side of her. I've already seen the breasts, but I haven't had a cheerleader dig my chili since high school and I just can't get enough of that action. I also wanted to check out the new Arena football team in Lubbock. The Renegades are like a Double A minor league baseball team. If you have ever been to anything minor league, its always fun.

Fun because, my friends and I can criticize everything from the stadium announcers, to the groveling children yelling for freebie souvenirs that are just a cut above carnival prizes. The play of the game is not very interesting I must admit, it is all about the shitty side show and drinking beer in a public place. In Lubbock, you would think the Cowboys were playing because everyone has on Cowboy jerseys and the like.

"I have a ton to do here today, but I will be there, what time does it start?"

She said, "It starts at 3, but I have to go now. I haven't practiced the routines all week because I was an alternate, but they called me and said I was on because Becky got put in jail for getting in a fight at the Koko Inn. Can you believe it, I get to dance in front of everyone."

I said, "I can't wait to see you, your uniform looks awesome." (Lie)

She goes, "I bet you like it, maybe I can wear it for you later."

I asked, "I bet you had it on last night."

She said, "No, I got tired and went home to bed."

"I bet you were tired. We had a long day and you probably had a long night." In the I know what you did last night tone of voice. She missed it by a mile, or at least she pretended too.

Her eyes rolled and she punched me in the chest and said, "Well if you weren't so god damned old, I could have kept you up all night. I got to go, here are the tickets. See you there. And tell your friends ya'll can come down and meet some of my friends on the team. They are sooo cool."

"I bet they are. Okay."

All my rowdy friends

We got excited about a couple of plays, but otherwise we just drank a few beers and commented on the pathetic display of everything minor about the minor leagues. I pointed out that Twila was the girl that couldn't keep up with the perkier and more experiences dance team members. My friends all thought she was hot, and one of my friends Ron said she looked familiar. He asked what her name was.

I reply in curiosity, "Twila Barr, you know her?"

Ron smiled weirdly and said, "Yeah, we met."

Noticing the odd smirk, "Oh yeah, how do you know Twila?"

"Umm well, she use to hang out with a couple of buddies of mine up at the golf course bar." (In guy friend translation that means he has had sex with her before after a long night of drinking.)

"Orly?"

"Yeah, she's cool I guess. How long you been seeing her again?"

"On and off for the past couple of days. It's funny really. I don't like her at all but there is something about her."

"Yeah, I know what you mean man, she can be a really cool chick."

"I guess so. She seems to be really cool to half of Lubbock County, and that's just since Friday afternoon."

Now the entire gang is laughing, and some are really laughing at me in that your are so pathetic cackle.

Rodney asks shyly, "you think I can get her phone number?"

Pointing to the team bench "Sure, how about I just introduce you to her and her boyfriends on the team."

Ron said, "Damn, Twila has a boyfriend on the team and your messing around with her. That cannot be healthy."

"It probably isn't, it's not that I'm afraid of them, it's more that I'm worried my health insurance doesn't cover a trip to the clap clinic."

The jokes and jibes continue until the local domed gridiron heroes go down in defeat. We proceed to go meet up with Twila. The boys really wanted to see if I could get an in for them with the other sex pandering ballerinas. I do what I can for my boys.

Meet the Renegades

Rex O'donnell is a 6'6 350lbs lineman and the spitting image of Dan Blocker on steroids. His buddy on the team is Mickey "Strut" Strutters, a 6'2 200lbs wide receiver. Rex said he played his college ball at Florida Atlantic, he blew out his knee during last year's NFL combines and is trying to get back into shape to make another run at the NFL. Strut, he insists that you call him that "Dawg", grew up in Louisiana and played football at some directional state school near his home. They were all smiles until Twila said.

"Hey ya'll, this is my boyfriend Russ."

I felt like I was pissing razor blades, in fact that might seem better after the look of humorous pity the two football giants had on there face. They looked like they had discovered a silver lining in their defeat all of the sudden. They didn't know that I knew at that instant that they had violated Twila 16 ways to Sunday morning, and they had revealed that in their look of amazement. Just embarrassment, please someone remove me from the planet until I can regain some dignity.

Strut said, "Hey Dawg, you want to come to our party. Twila's coming." Then he immediately slapped Rex on the hand and they shared that sinister look and enjoyed the moment all over again in an instant.

Twila unfaded said, "Ya Russ, come on, ever body will be there and ya'll can bring them friends over too. It'll be funner than sitting at home watching Histery Channel like you prolly want to do."

I didn't ask for this. I felt like I was 7 years old again when my Aunt made me get on a roller coaster at Six Flags and I was so terrified I threw up before, during, and after the ride. That was supposed to be fun too. I had to play with the Renegades. My pride was on the line for the wrong reasons, so true. But again, like Woltz in the Godfather, "I aint no band leader!"

I'm the greatest wingman ever

We all pile out of the Ron's truck after a trip to the beer store, my second consecutive in as many days. I go to bars, I do not go to the beer store unless its the holidays. I am doing this for my friends, I kept telling myself. But in my mind, I kept picturing scenes from Revenge of the Nerds, where all the football players are groping cheerleaders, especially my cheerleader, and I was being hazed down stairs like the gay rape scene in Pulp Fiction.

Evidently some hot cheerleader named Skye was hosting a party at her parent's home just on the outskirts of town. The house looked like it was built during the dust bowl back in the thirties. The couches were at least 30 years old and the carpet had stains from spills of days past. The home smelled like a mold convention, but all over the house were pictures of Skye in cheerleader outfits and Glamour shot layouts with tiger print vests and shit. I learned the parent's were vacationing. I asked Skye if they were in the Hampton's, but she said shrugged that off as if she didn't know. Probably because she didn't and told me they were in Turner Falls for a wedding.

It's been 12 years since I remember going to a keg party. It all came back to me now. Accept this one was different. There was danger lurking and I could feel it. Sure enough danger came into the house with her stripper cowgirl outfit still on from the game. Twila was the only girl there with it still on. The other girls had swapped out their clothing for a different brand of sexual trash.

Twila worked the room like a professional at Score's. Sitting on the Running back's lap. Kissing bruises on the Quarterback's chin and giving him a sip of beer. She would come around me occasionally and say, "I'm so glad your here. Isn't this fun? You got any extra beer, Strut says the keg floated."

So I would walk out to Ron's truck to get into my stash thinking it was for my girl. Duped again, she promptly kissed me hard then proceeded to Strut lounging by the scum filled kiddie pool. I watched as she sat in his lap then handed him my fucking beer.

During this episode, I made up a chant.

I am such a pussy.
I am such a pussy.
I am such a pussy.

I'm going to Jaurez.
I'm getting steroids.
I'm getting pumped.

And gosh darn it, people will like me.

Rodney and Ron

They were there just talking it up and getting drunk with all of the girls and players. They were having a blast. I wished I could be like them, but I just couldn't. I tried to fake having fun, but that lasted for about 10 minutes until Twila came back to make an announcement to the room.

"Everybody shut the fuck up a second..God damn it! Me and Rex and Strut are going to go get another fucking keg at the Strip before it closes."

Rex chimes in, "Everybody better fucking pony up, we aint buying this next one. We also need a truck."

Immediately Ron does the unthinkable and hands Rex his keys. I looked at him like he just lost his mind. This is not a Ron move. Drive them? Sure, no problem. But give them the keys? I can't believe it happened.

I was in such a panic, I handed over $20 to Rex like a baptist getting tithed. Can this possibly get any worse? In an instant they were gone. Then it did get worse, they left with my girl and my beer. She is wearing a stripper outfit and I was sure there was a pornography film crew at the ready should the trio decide to have another fling. Why don't you kick my dog while your at it?

Rodney said, "where's Twila? I thought she was with you?"

"Fuck off Rodney!"

Rodney laughed the laugh of condescending, in defeat I retreated outside.

So I decided to lounge where Strut had been before, seeking the power of the chair in hopes a scantily clad drunk gal would come over and kiss on my wounds. Wishful thinking.

3 hours later and 5 before I have to be at work. The mantra repeats itself until I fall asleep.I get awoken by Twila with my foot drenched in kiddie pool scum. I faintly hear the deep giggles of gladiators in heat.

She said, "your friends done took off with some of the girls. I tole em you could ride home with me, so you better get that shit washed off yer shoes. I don't want you getting that shit in my car."

Oh kindest and fairest maiden, come rescue thou and let me seek travel in thouest chariot.

Twila looked like she had been riding the mechanical bull at Gilley's and been bucked off 15 times. She was drunk and in no condition to drive. The guys all escorted her to her car and each of them gave her deep hugs and lifts. I could hear the mutterings that I were sure were the "can I come over" and let's try to get eight seconds together type pleadings.

I can't remember anything else after that. I awoke in the morning with a cheap fish net half way choking me and 4 hours late for work. Twila was gone but I knew that she had slept there. I was just hoping I could wash it all off and avoid a trip to the clinic or perpetual pharmaceutical purchases. Even still, I smelled the scent of drunken girl in my bed, and I wondered why I liked it so much.

Discount Mexican food (you get what you pay for)

When you just feel so guilty you can't refuse.

Twila called me up this morning saying she got off at 11:30 from the leasing office and cut a coupon out of the phone book for a "twofer" deal at Casa Ole', a less than popular restaurant here in the Hub City. I guess that meant I was paying and she was getting the freebie.

Ball Buster

Well, as it turns out Twila had to, "get ready first." So I'm sitting there in her apartment again, running through the events of the night before in my mind. I was wondering how I was going to break it her that I really didn't like her all that much, but something tells me my rent might go up. Quite a quandary. To complex the issue, her boxer named Buster kept trying to sniff my crotch. He is a big and nasty dog and he even nipped at my hand when I tried to remove him from my loin region.

After 30 damn minutes in the bathroom, which became obvious was a long session on the toilet due to the foulness wafting through the vents, she finally emerged refreshed and ready for burritos covered in government grade taco meat seasoning sauce. Oh goody!

She said, "Damn it Buster, thats my man. He aint fer you!"

I was feeling relieved to be leaving and said the completely wrong thing to a woman after she has been in the bathroom for a while.

"Everything come out okay?"

Salvadore Dali and Mary Kay had a love child

She looked as if she could burn a hole through my skin and bones, evil eyes flashed the heavy black eye makeup upon me. She smelled like dollar store body spray and ass. The heady scent of yesterday's digested cheap beer and fast food overwhelmed my brain with a headache of deep remorse and pain. I couldn't wait to get the Mexican food smells of grease and flour.

Twila takes me for the ride FOR my life

As we walked to her 1995 Mercury Cougar, with rusted paint and stickers on the back window with butterflies, I began to question my judgment in entangling myself with such a creature. Has it really come to this? A trashy woman with makeup put on with a putty knife entrusting my wellbeing in a car unworthy of third world safety standards? WHY AM I HERE!

A silent prayer at an intersection later, we were finally at our romantic interlude destination.

Culinary delights

Oh my, did the sparks fly! Twila had polished off her second margarita by the time feast arrived. The burritos looked like they were defrosted in a microwave then slathered with shit sauce, plated, and sent out with a garnish of shredded lettuce and cheap cheese left over from an MRE circa Vietnam. Being somewhat of a vegan now, I said my goodbyes to the remaining pleasant feeling in my stomach. It tasted a bit better than it looked. Have you ever had a Patio frozen dinner? By comparison, those were meals, this was torture.

Small talk

Twila entertained me with stories about Doug, her mother, and her third stepfather's dice game. Twila's family supplemented their household income by hosting gambling parties. Mom worked at the Nursing home, and Twila held down several jobs at local fast food eateries.

She said, "you know, I know how to cook."

I said, "Really, What do you like to cook?"

"Well I like to make cookies, and I even know how to make Tacos better than those over there."

I said, "We might have to do that sometime, you know I know how to cook too. I like to cook because it saves me money and it is healthier."

She replied with a drip of industrial grade cheese stringing from the side of her mouth as she spoke while chewing, "I like to go out. My favorite is Sonic. Them chilidogs are Sooo good!"

Screwed twice in less than 24 hours

"Did you bring that coupon you were talking about?"

She said, "Fuhq no, I forgot it."

Great. 4 margarita's and a twofer at full price was a smidge over $35. She began bitching at the waitress, "We didn't get no chips and my food wasn't any good." (She polished off the entire plate plus half of the pico de gallo bar.) I was completely ready to die in embarrassment. I held on in gut wrenching rumblings from the 4 bites of MRE bliss as she asked to speak to the manager. I guess the look on my face combined with the rush of tequila coursing through her veins had caused Twila to become bold.

This sissy has cleaned a few trailers in her day

Mike, the day shift manager, came over to the table and Twila belted out.

"Hey, I use to work at a place like this and your supposed to get chips and salsa for free. We didn't get no chips."

She grabbed the bill from my hands and asked why we, excuse me, I was charged for the undelivered chips. Oh fuck, the humanity! Like I care at this point. I felt like I was watching the TCU game from this year at the same time in the same place with an explosion of fury beginning to emanate from my pants. How could I have been made to be seen with this woman, much less buy her damn lunch when I could have had lime chicken and blanc sauteed asparagus instead. Now I know what the Caveman feels like in those Geico commercials.

Mike said as he had been trained, "Ma'am, I realize you aren't pleased with the service, is there something I can do to make it better?"

Twila said, "well I come here all the time and aint never been treated like this." The con begins.

"Here at Casa Ole, we aim to have the highest in customer service and healthy good food." The con descends into the abyss of motivational speaking tape lingo. This whole time I am just soaking up the unpleasantness of a waste in English conversation. Twila doesn't know what to say so I jump in.

"How about we get a discount for the chips and call it good?"

Twila says, "that's bullshit! We should get ever thang off the bill."

Mike had the face of fear and loathing and replied, "Well, I can't take ever thang off, but I can see what we can do, be right back."

Mind reading dyslexia

Twila snarled and said, "that somebitch aint trained right, were the customers and we didn't get ever thang we wanted."

Finally I just sighed and said, "That's okay, I'm just ready to bolt."

Smiling she said, "I know whut you want to do now! You want some of whut you got last night."

I just shook my head and thought to myself, you don't even know. At this point, I would rather have sex with a rhinoceros on crack than Twila on 3 margaritas, at least I could have a better conversation even if it was one sided.

A twirl with Twila

Bud and Sissy

She is nice enough. No kids but she has been divorced once. The reason? The guy got sent off to prison. When I pressed for an explanation, it creeped me out that she wouldn't answer. But i did find out he gets out next year, so it must not have been too bad. Like murder bad. I'm guessing theft or drugs. My mind rushes to the scene in Urban Cowboy where the bad guy is operating the mechanical bull but instead Twila is on the saddle. Weird.

Boy I sure can pick em, you know? I think that I'm going to stop this deal before it gets off the ground. I have two reasons and one reveals my shallowness, and the other makes good sense.

Shallow is gene pool that names their child Twila. Sorry folks, but that's a stripper name. I just don't want to date someone that could easily be coming on the stage to She's Only 17 by Winger. I know I'm an ass, but it is what it is.

The sensible reason is, she seems like the kind of chick that would cheat on you. She got no less than 3 calls during our visit at the pool and all of them were apparently young beaus in lust after Twila. She told me about one of them. She pronounces the name like this, DU-HG. Doug, he works at an Oil Change place and was asking if she wanted to go to the races.

Here comes the deal breaker.

"I love the races. People getting drunk and having a good time." I said, "Yeah, that sounds fun." (I'm such a liar.) She then punches me in the shoulder, an obvious tell that she wanted my muchismo and smiles and says, "you should come with us." I replied, "well, I got to bowl that night in my league so I can't make it." (lie number #2) She frowns a bit and says, "your in a bowling league?" The I told her all about the Achievers. She wasn't too impressed.

So let's fast forward to 1:45 am last night.

Looking for love in all the wrong places

I get a call from Twila. Guess what? That's right, she was drunk and needed a ride home from a bar because, "I got in a fight with Doug and we broke up. He left me here, can you come pick me up?" I asked, "where are you?" She was at a local honkytonk in town called Chances R. Trust me when I tell you this, it is the hub of working class rednecks around these parts. Don't get me wrong here, these people are good timing, fun loving people, but when they get drunk and get that old ass country cranked up, it's a difficult deal to deal with. So of course, being the gentleman that I am, I go and pick her up.

Well fuck! She is in the parking lot arguing with the 22yr old Doug. He gets out of his 1998 Chevy s-10 with chrome wheels and loud stereo and starts cussing at Twila who sees me pull up and gets out to get in with me. He starts cussing at me, "Who the fuck are you?" So I get out of my VW and say in my best John Wayne impression I can muster with a pair of Crocs on and say, "well sir, I'm Twila's friend and I'm here to make sure she gets home safe." He at least decides he doesn't want to fight there, and I get back in after his tirade ends and drive off with Twila.

Big Mistake

Well lo and behold after we get to Twila's residence in the complex, there is a beating sound at the door. Old double deuce Doug and some pal of his. Twila decides to do the dumbest thing ever. She answers the door and Doug pushes his way in. "Are you fucking him now?" Twila says, "NO, I aint never been with him DUHG you asshole. Besides you been cheatin on me with that bitch Regina." In Springeresque fashion they proceed to continue there argument whilst I am staring at the unknown youngster in tow to see if they are going to make a move on me. I finally decide to break my silence and say, "If you three don't mind, I'd like to go on to my house." Doug says, "yeah, you better get the fuck outta here."

Filo Beto

I said, "DUHHHHG" (with emphasis on the Texan drawl.) "If your going to whip my ass then you better get to work BOOOY, cause I got things to do."The friend chimes in, "Dude, let's go you can talk to her tomorrow man, we gotta got to work at 7." Well Doug is looking at me then he finally decides to take a wild swing that misses me by a mile. Twila is screaming and I rush Doug out of the apartment and on to the stoop. The friend is frozen I guess because I was worried he would make it two on one. In no lees than 4 seconds I have Doug pinned to the ground and he is screaming at me, "Fuck you man, fuck you man, get off of me." After about 6 seconds of squeezing his body against the ground, I finally say, "If you will calm down Doug, I will get the fuck off of you. I don't think we need to go to jail here." He calms down then let him up.
You want to know what happens next, don't you?

Doug and his friend left, and I got right turned Clyde. I will tell you this, it was good but she needs lessons like Sondra Locke needed an acting class.

Apartment with view of the side of the pool.

SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET EMOOOOOOOOOO SHUN.
rinse lather
Repeat

Talk about things and nobody cares

My apologies to Aerosmith, let's get that out of the way. The whole Imus thing, it's like an Eurythmics song lyric. "Some of them want to use you, some of them want to abuse you...everybody is looking for something." Hold your head up Imus. Moving on. I'm en fuego today.


My get up and go must have got up and went

I haven't been to the gym in a couple of weeks. I am still riping weight off like a Deal A Meal testimonial. The hot leasing agent asked me if I wanted to lay out by the pool with her this afternoon. It's 60 fucking degrees outside. Can you say headlights? I'm so there. My get up and go has returned from sabbatical all the sudden. I'm going to wear a Speedo thong, some black socks, white tennis shoes, and a pair of goggles. I transcend sexual chocolate with whip cream on top.


Your Daddy said I took you just a little too far

I wonder, does a hot leasing agent ask you to the pool because she digs your chili? I'm thinking yes. She diggeth thouest chili. I always knew there were women that dug the unemployed and emotionally damaged, but I never thought one would like me. Charlie Bucket finds a golden ticket, and I find a brunette slender leasing agent from Levelland. I have good intentions, but she will never command the remote in this casa. "Cause your so Smooth." Que up the Santana and the dude that whores out from Matchbox 20!

Stand in the front just a shaking you ass

I miss karaoke. I use to do it quite a bit. I only really know 4 songs to do and I even though I suck at The Clash, it makes me feel so damn good to do it. Who knows, if things go right today, I could take her to the pool hall for $1.50 drafts and the butchered musical montage of overweight women singing Jesus take the Wheel and The Rose. New York has the Village, Lubbock has cheap beer. Lifestyle downgrade has its advantages.

Talk about something you'll be sure and understand

What do I talk about? 26 years old leasing agent, I better brush up on my boy band knowledge on the google before I go. I will spare her my critique of the Saturday morning Menudo show circa mid 80's on ABC. Instead, I will focus on things Carson Daly would know, even though he annoys me and I can't watch his show. Chicks dig his chi. Maybe I better just shut up and pour the drinks. Much better idea.

What would Burt Do?

Thats all you need to ask yourself. Some people have Buddha, others have Jesus, and some have a rabbi,cleric, or priest to seek advice and counsel. I have Burt Reynolds movies. Like Burt, I could never get the woman I really wanted, like he couldn't close on Sally Fields. Complicated and delusional, I know. But nonetheless, the comparison in mind is valid. You can also conclude on your own as to the sanity part of that as well.

Burt would just be Burt. Laugh, ask questions, and wink. I might have to go to the costume shop for some fake chest hair, but if I can be the Burt from Stroker Ace or SATB, then I am gold.

The End

You live and you learn, you know? I am going to be completely blunt and state right away, this deal will end bad. Sure, she will be taken with me. I know this. But then, in about a couple of months when she realizes that I'm not going to change or give up the remote, or get a real job at Starbucks; she will get angry. We will fight and then she will leave.

It's not a maybe, this is a most definite conclusion. If you like to read the ending of novels before starting, then you are in for a treat in this saga.

I'm too cool for pool

Train in Vain by The Clash

Classic Devo cover

DONKEY

The Waiting

Tom Petty, you sang my life...this week anyway.

The Purge

I still don't know. I lopped off some heads of lettuce in sacrifice to honor the great and almighty HR department at the beloved institution. If that isn't enough, then its just not meant to be.

Emotions can get the best of you

I think I tweaked my wrist punching a heavy bag at the gym. A song came on my MP3 player and made me think of something sinister in my past that happened between the LOS and ANGELES of my time. There is the Kappa and the Alpha, the ski and the bum, the drunk and the stupid, and the Boy and the Scout. Everything else doesn't have an "and the" in it.

Shack is back

One of my oldest friends that I lost touch with said that I was, "all over the place." Honey, you don't even know. Through the miracle of Myspace technology old friends can link up, swap nasty pictures (not that I do this), and send each other well wishes. I like it but I am not addicted to it. One of my other friends is completely obsessed with picking up women on the site. Dude, thats not your best idea you ever prosecuted. Just don't end up on Dateline, and don't judge people harshly based upon how cute or cool they "pimped" their page. Yours sucks by the way.

20,000 miles to an oasis

This is the period of time where I am just so put off with the general malaise of government, politics, and news that I just tune out. I see through it like Superman vision. But I am not Superman, and I don't really know what's happening. R.E.M. stream of reverse conscience if you will. Texarkana is my favorite though. "Catch me if I fall." It is a great song.

When in Rome

It amazes me how completely fooled the general public and especially news viewing public are when it comes to politics. Seems so obvious to me. You want to fight a War? Then fight the damn thing and win, don't just tread blood all over Baghdad. OK, so you cannot win the War. THEN how about we pull back and re-assess. But wait, with so much on the line why didn't we prepare to win, rather than prepare to get bogged down. Makes no sense. The only foreign power to successfully, for lack of a better term, govern that part of the world is the Romans. If you want to be Rome then you better get nasty like they had to. Otherwise, it isn't happening. I can't help but think of Fox News whenever I see the "newsreader" character on the HBO series Rome.

Is it better to burn out?

This morning I was sore from working out. I got out of bed and the first thing I thought of was this line from a Neil Young song, "it's better to burn out, than to fade away." Right now, I look like Patrick Swayze circa 1988, except I still have a little bit of a gut and I do not have a mullet. If I do not get a certain job, I am going to stage a mullet strike. I am going to grow a mullet AND perm it in protest. I wonder if Gandhi ever thought of that one? Doubt it, and because of this I feel superior to him. Eat it Mahatma, pun intended.

Just to update, I am down to 261 but not on a hunger strike. Anyway, I didn't feel so hot this morning but I still feel 20 times better than I did in 2004, 2005, and 2006.

Not Fade Away

I have two grandparents in the nursing home. I am glad in a way that they are still alive, but honestly I would not want to exist that way myself. On second thought, it depends. It depends on how many things I can still do. The thing that would bother me the most would be lack of control over my body, time, and circumstance. For some reason I am thinking about them today and can only wish that they are comfortable. I wanted to insert the "depends" joke somewhere in there, but it is unfortunately not a joke.

Crass as always

When I was child, that was until about 6 months ago if your playing at home on the home game. I will be here 'alls' the week. Welcome to ADHD, an interactive whatever. Anyway, I use to ask my parents if old people lived in storage buildings. My mother still teases me about it, but deep down she knows if she crosses me once more, it's off to the KOA Mini Storage off of Clovis Highway.

Adulthood misconceptions

Maggie tries to kill flies by chasing them around the room and snapping at them. Every once in a while she snags one. It's better entertainment than What's Happening Now, but as talented as my puppy is she cannot stop the avenger called time. She just can't get the wheels around like she use to. I mention the 70's sitcom for a reason. My dog reminds me of the talent of Fred Berry dancing. For those of you that do not know, he was better known as "Rerun", his character on that show. Fred's dead. What I remember about him most is years after the show was canceled, Fred was still dressing up and doing his thing. He wasn't as cool, but he could still do it. That is all that matters.

My point is, we do what we do and more often than not we think we will constantly improve and get better. The truth is one day we will not and the paramount soreness is that one day we may wake up and not be in control. The misconception is that perhaps we do not appreciate our health and present set of circumstances in the now, but something tells me we will wish we appreciated more later.


One More thing

I cannot decide if Neil was correct. Not in the rock n roll lyrical sense only, but in general. Maybe that isn't the purpose at all. Maybe I should stop thinking about song lyrics and what they mean. Never, I will enjoy thinking while I still can. Hey Hey my my.

I feel so good but one thing is missing....

I need More Cowbell.

Coffee talk

Bummer, as the DUDE would put it. I got a fancy coffee maker for Christmas. Its not that I didn't have one already, in fact this gift made the third in my possession. But because of the stature of the person giving the gift, I felt obliged to use it. Frankly, the coffee wasn't all that great. My $25 coffee pot that has seen me through the last 4 years could brew it up perfectly to my taste. Anyway, the fancy one broke down this morning.

Like the many "hot" women I am attracted to, all rife with sexual vitality, in the end they just break down too. It wasn't worth all the fuss anyway. But unlike the $25 coffee maker, I just don't dig the plain women scene. I like them, I just don't want to be with them in a relationship. I wish it was the other way around. I know this makes me shallow in the female mind, but it is what it is. I haven't had any caffeine as of yet, so please hold the harsh rebukes.

All I need is this French press, three remotes and the truth. Thanks to my laziness to not feel the need to dig up the old coffee maker, I finally had some a couple of cups thanks to the trusty French press. U2 music and some coffee, can their be anything finer on a spring day while semi-unemployed?

Abide.

EDIT: It occurred to me that my statement above is indeed shallow. It is what it is, well maybe not. I'm different now, so why should I limit myself to old attractive habits. What I think "IS" may be different. I am hoping so, and I think I might be willing to look into it.

2nd Place out of 52 so far

http://games.espn.go.com/tcmen/entry?entryID=2374308&entryIDFrom=2374308

If I wouldn't have been drinking so much kool aid, I would have done the smart thing and picked BC over Tech.

Venison chili

I make venison chili. In fact, I am the best venison chili maker of all all times! My dad may claim different, but he is a weak girly man and cannot stand the pumpatude in the kitchen.

Here are a few venison chili tips. I shall not deliver all of the secrets.

1. Venison without hamhocks is like George without Wheezy. If it don't pack the junk in the trunk, it's just a hatchback, you dig?

2. Carmalize the onions, don't just throw em in.

3. Venison without red wine is blasphemous! Venison with white wine is ignorant.

4. No beans in the chili. Beans in chili is not chili. This should go without saying but there are Yankees in the world that need correction.

5. Tres chilis por favor! I use poblano, serrano, and a mystery chili. It provides a texture of heat like Cinemax soft porn. It's fun but nobody is gonna get hurt.

We lost

Time to get ready for our dominance in the NCAA tournament.

Big 12 Tournament

K-State at 2pm. Atticus maybe wearing some pink today. If we win, we're driving to OKC tomorrow morning. He is looking forward to it.

Big 12 Tournament

Tech plays Colorado at 2pm in Oklahoma City, winner plays K-State tomorrow at 2pm. Tech needs this win to solidify a bid to the NCAA tournament.

YNWA

Kickboxing is pain.

I feel like I got hit by a dump truck today. Last evening after I got home, I moved with the grace of a Clydesdale and the speed of a snail. Whipped.

This morning there is no end to the throbbing. I am going back today. It was alot of fun.

The world needs more Lloyd Dobler

"Kickboxing. Sport of the future."

-Lloyd Dobler

If you do not know who Lloyd Dobler is then you have missed out. For God sakes he got a date with Diane Court.


Today at 5:30pm CST, I begin my kick boxing career. My first match will be against a 43 year old single mother from Smyer. She is going to feel the smoke coming from my guns of fury.

Seriously, it is just a class aimed at cardio conditioning exercise, although I am taking boxing lessons every now and again. I'm shooting for a debut at the O.L. Slaton Junior High Golden gloves classic next October.

The Great White Hope hopes to be not so great by then.

"I am looking for a dare to be great situation."

"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that. "

"The rain on my car is a baptism, the new me, Ice Man, Power Lloyd, my assault on the world begins now. "

Art imitates Advertising.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/TV/03/05/tv.cavemen.ap/index.html

NEW YORK (AP) -- Those Geico "cavemen" shouldn't be so upset after all -- they may get their own television series.

ABC said Friday it had ordered a pilot for a comedy, tentatively titled "Cavemen," that features the characters used in a series of ads by the insurance company.

In the ads, cavemen appear insulted by a Geico pitchman's claim that the company's Web site is so easy to use that "even a caveman can do it."

The potential series, one of 14 pilots that will be produced by Touchstone Television this spring, features the cavemen as they "struggle with prejudice on a daily basis as they strive to live the lives of normal thirty-somethings in 2007 Atlanta."

It's unusual for characters from an advertising campaign to move into shows of their own, but not unprecedented. The CBS comedy "Baby Bob" featured a talking baby that had been used in several advertisements, according to Daily Variety.

The advertising copywriter who helped create the "cavemen" ads is writing the pilot, the studio said.

A pilot order is no guarantee a show will make it on the air; in fact, the majority of pilots don't make it that far.

Thanks to Helmut for the find.

Bitten nails and broken hearts

That should be enough, but just to make sure I think Tech needs to win a game in the Big 12 Tournament. Anything after that is gravy going into the NCAA Tournament.

What a season. Every win seemed slim and the losses were frustrating. Since Coach Bob Knight came to Lubbock, I thought his best coaching job was getting Tech into the tournament in his first season. Now I believe that this has been his best work. This team lacked the talent to rebound consistently and forced Tech to maximize its opportunities. This team lost 5 games in a row during Conference play, then went to College Station and turned its season completely around.

The record, the eye socket multiple fracture, the big wins at home, Prince-gate, NEBRASKA meltdown, double OT loss to OSU, and owning the poor Aggies. Now I know why people get off a roller coaster, throw up, and then claim that it was great and want to do it again.

I hate the old saying about owning pets, that its just heartbreak waiting to happen. Barring some divine intervention, this season will end with a loss. We all know that, right? Experience as a seasoned Tech fan tells me that it will be a heart breaker. I know it will be some double clutch off the backboard miracle shot, but until that happens I will continue to hope.

I have said this many times, we are the Red Sox of the Big 12. We're lovable and on any given night we can beat anyone, but I am waiting for our one shining moment. We have our Buckners and Yastrzemskis in many a sport around here. We don't exactly have a Curse to exorcise, but it would be nice to win an outright Championship in either Football or Men's Basketball. No offense to the ladies is intended, but its high time for some Men's sport hardware. Hell, even the Sox won. Next will be the Rangers and then what? Baylor!

That would be just great. Baylor wins a Football or Basketball Championship before Tech. What am I saying? If were the Sox, then they are the Cubs. Somehow that makes me feel better, and now I can focus on my bracketology domination.

Weird wild stuff

I was thinking again today. I tend to do that after a few cups of coffee.

Maggie needs a job. That way she could hire somebody to walk her constantly as she demands these days. Not really too much trouble, she just tends to want to walk during an English Premier League match on Fox Soccer Channel. Inevitably, one of the teams scores on some trick shot goal, and I miss it. After watching build up after build up for an hour. I think its okay to miss out, surely nothing will happen. It does. "Bad dog Maggie!"

Demanding? No. Unless you consider that every time a shower is taken or clothes are changed, Maggie thinks its her right to go outside or ride along for a trip. I can't stand the pouting and moping, so I take her along most times. The resale value on my car is the only thing that suffers, and I can handle that.

Great ideas turn bad sometimes. I thought having a garden was going to be alot of fun and cost effective, not to mention having fresh vegetables. Well, now I need to basically turn my entire balcony into a plantation to corral all this stuff busting up through the soil. That doesn't bother me so much, I can deal. But what of the constant watering, warding off pestilence, and cost of all the stuff needed for apartment farming? Knowing me, I think I might ask for an addendum to my renters insurance, just in case of farmer failure. I bet it doesn't work that way. We press on.

I must be getting old. I am actually considering a trip to the farm and garden show at the Lubbock Civic Center because I think it might be fun. Better yet, I might go to Barnes and Noble and get a fancy coffee and pick up a novel. Probably wont do either but instead argue about state politics on the "interweb." Oh wait, I do that almost every day. Black Snake Moan looks interesting. I think watching that movie might set me back a few decades, so I will pass. Besides, I have seen this movie already. Samuel L. Jackson says "mother f*&^er" 47 times and somebody gets shot. Nobody is cool like Jackson, I don't need to spend $10.50 and 2.5 hours to validate that fact. Workout and watch EPL all day it is.

College Basketball season is finally getting great. It is always good, but when March rolls around, I get to take advantage of my friends that think last years Cinderellas are going to do it again. So wrong. This years Cinderella will be Texas Tech, of course! My Final 4 will most likely be: Valparaiso, New Mexico State, Texas A&M, and Texas Tech. Tech wins National Championship over A&M in quintuple overtime. Either that or a Florida and Duke final. No, I'm not growing anything illegal, but there is hemp in my shampoo.

It's all about how I think about things.

I weigh 272 pounds, that is slightly lighter than where I was. To make it more interesting, I have a 7 gallon water container I use to transport reverse osmosis water up three flights of stairs once a week. I have almost lost an entire containers worth of weight since I moved in on the first of December. Imagine, each and every step of your existence carrying 7 gallons of water. I imagine losing another containers worth by July 4th, 2007. That is alot of stress and strife off your body. The key thing is, turning that image into a reality. I'm half way there and all the way healthier than the person that carried all that weight. Once a week when I get a refill for $1.75, I also get a refill of motivation for free.

Will Farrell or Jay?

What's cookin?

I screwed up this dish when my mother visited a few weeks ago, so I had a "redo" last night. It's called Texaner Chicken Baked Potato soup.

3 white potatoes
3 chicken breasts
lemon
1/2 white onion
Fresh Garlic
Cilantro
Poblano pepper
1 can of Tascosa Salsa
Organic Chicken Broth
Salt
Pepper
Oregano

Garnish
Bacon-cooked to crisp and crumbled
Cheddar Jack cheese
Chives

The idea originally was born of my love for German potato leek soup and broadened into more from there. I dice the potatoes first and place them in the crock pot. Next, I add a seedless peeled lemon, cilantro, onion, garlic, Poblano pepper and blend them all together with a blender. I then spoon that out into the pot. Finally, I add 3/4 of a jar of Tascosa salsa, diced chicken breast, and Chicken broth until ingredients are covered by a 1/8 of an inch. Cover and cook for 8 hours at the lowest setting.

Upon serving, I add cheese, bacon, and chives to garnish. If done perfectly, one will first taste the sensation of baked potato and then move into a Southwestern spicy version of chicken potato leek soup.

Enjoy.

Remembering Faded Love.

For some odd reason, I began thinking of my grandparents this morning. By my desk I keep some old photographs of family and I caught a glimpse of this old man in a grey cowboy hat, my grandfather Bill.

Bill liked his high class fashion. In the summer he would show off his cutoff wranglers he made into shorts, boots, pearl snap shirt and straw hat. His legs were as white as snow. So damn funny to think about.

Bill could also be mistaken for being a chef. Nobody in the history of baking put more effort into a batch of sour dough bread than him. Although the real credit probably should go to my grandmother. She was the real brains in the kitchen operation.

I guess there are still parts of the world were cooking isn't a considered a chore of governed by convenience. It was never that way in my grandparents household. It was fun to watch them work, argue, and present a full feast. Sour dough bread, pork roasts, pinto beans, macaroni and cheese, green bean casseroles, and potatoes. Even though they had planned and done it a thousand times before, each meal seemed like it was achieved from the result of a hostage negotiation on television. You know it is going to turn out right, but there must be some drama first.

Stay tuned for these messages.

My favorite memory of my grandad is when he called up the furniture store in town where he bought his Lazy Boy recliner. He complained and convinced them to send a repair man out, because his feet would not touch the floor when he sat in it. The poor man came out and grandad made him saw off a quarter inch of the base so the problem could be fixed. The man did it and after completing the job, I never saw Bill so happy. He sat in it the rest of the day like a Roman consul; grinning, laughing, and calling people on the phone to brag about his coup.

The last time I saw my grandparents together, was while my grandmother was suffering in the last days of her Alzheimer's disease, we went to their anniversary party at an old steak house. My grandad was never in great health in his last 15 years of life. All I can remember about this night is the dancing. They were dressed up and looking sharp. Considering the health they were in, it was amazing to watch them glide and step across the room to the old Western Swing tunes. A Texas man and his sweet bride. I wonder is he knew how lucky he was to have her? I'm guessing he did. I miss them.