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My rude past…

I have an odd reaction to really embarrassing moments.

I get louder and become fearless.

This can be a really bad combination and it rarely leads to things calming down and moving away from whatever the embarrassing starting point was.

Here is a good example from my past.

There is a fine art to having sex in a restaurant.

And I am not artist.

Maybe I should add a little bit of back story here. In a certain sense, I am still the dirty-minded 13 year old I always was.

I was in an El Pollo Loco with a new girlfriend.

We were in the honeymoon stage. That cool period of time right after you figure out that you are sexually compatible, and you really can’t keep your hands off of each other.

You can only sit in a booth making out for so long before the help begin to get twitchy. And we are not wide eyed teenagers. Being past the age of being old enough to know better, but obviously not giving a shit ratchets up the discomfort of others even more.

And that is when the idea of sex in the bathroom begins to make sense.

El Pollo Loco almost encourages this sort of behavior. The bathrooms are always in their own little secluded hallway.

This discourages witnesses. And the bathrooms are single occupant only.

We are both a little iffy about the whole scandalous thing right up until we get in the bathroom.

Its on like donkey kong.

Less than 30 seconds later the knock on the door comes.

Its loud, its impatient and its incessant.

“We have to stop.” She is the voice of reason in these situations.

“No, we don’t.” I am really not in control of my actions at this point. My penis has taken control and he is a tyrant.

“Stop” Once out of their teens, women are much harder to talk into things they have decided against.

“How do we get out of here?” NOW she is worried. Women hate witnesses. Men view witnesses as more of an annoyance than an embarrassment.

This is where I become Rambo with a hard on.

“We go out one at a time, no eye contact.”

She straightens her clothes while I put mine back on. Men seem to get naked a hell of a lot quicker in these situations.

I put my hands on the lock and the door knob and look back at my somewhat nervous partner in crime. I blow her a kiss, but I can tell she is missing the humor of the gesture.

I open the door and find an old woman waiting with her hand poised to rap on the door again.

Her eyes widen in shock at a man coming out of the bathroom. I focus on the hallway next to her and step past.

“All yours chief.” I am now headed for the parking lot.

Pure guilt makes me look over my shoulder.

It is worth risking the look back.

My partner had tried to push the door shut the moment I cleared the thresh hold.

The old woman recovered from her shock quickly and tried to get into the bathroom.

There is a brief struggle with both trying to move the door, one to get it open and the other to close it, presumably to hide.

Then the door is forced open.

My partner makes her first mistake.

Eye contact, frozen in place.

A number of things should be falling into place mentally for the old woman at this point.

If there is more to be seen, I have no way of knowing.

The front door is in my hand and I am now free.

You are on your own, sweetie.

Don’t hold it against me, survival is an instinctive thing, and those old ladies can be vicious.

A few minutes later, my now thoroughly embarrassed partner exits the El Pollo to find me across the parking lot, sitting on the hood of the car, smiling and about to begin laughing loud.

“You’re an asshole!”

What the hell did I do?

I would ask, but I have pulled enough shit in my past that I don’t question the asshole accusation.

She forgave me, eventually.

As part of an unspoken agreement, we steered clear of fast food bathrooms from there on out.

Looking back, I view that as a damn shame.

There is a poster I see here and there about living life.

Here is my version.

Live well.
Laugh often.
Love deeply.
And if you are ever kicked out of an El Pollo Loco bathroom for having sex, NO EYE CONTACT!

 
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Posted by on October 10, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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I just met a girl named Maria…..

I am sitting in the Starbucks at the mall, doing what I do.

Which is listen in. Rude as it gets.

You have to bear with me on this one, my Spanish is rusty as hell.

Luckily, the young couple next to me at the Galleria Starbucks is switching back and forth between English and Spanish.

I love West Side Story, so here is the story of Tony and Maria.

Tony is Latino and looks to be about 12. He has all the characteristics of a guy in his mid to late teens. Maria is a Latina who is carrying a few pounds and appears to be about 13 years old.

They have 2 kids together.

I wondered at first if I miss-heard that, but it was repeated, so it must be true.

Children having children. (From the look and mannerisms of Tony, dumb kids having kids

Also, it appears that Tony is several months behind on what sounds a lot like child support.

Maria has made several comments about her abwella, or something like that. (After checking with my chola barber, it was abuela, grandmother in spanish.)

She is mellowing, but started out really pissed at him. Tony, however, understands how to shut her down.

Not 5 minutes into the conversation, she is laughing and slapping playfully at his hand.

Shit.

Not that I am against young love as a general thing, but this whole little scenario puts the vice on my butt something fierce.

What percentage of this generation is sitting in front of me?

How many more kids will Maria have with Tony before they get their lives together?

Or at least graduate high school.

Just kidding, I realize that they probably won’t graduate high school.

That is not necessarily a racial thing. I think everyone in their mid to late teens are complete morons, with few exceptions.

People in that age range should not be allowed to make any serious decisions for themselves.

But thats just me.

Although, maybe some of the tougher decisions in life should be made before you can acquire enough experience to chicken out.

The scary stuff.

Marriage, the military, Amway.

Of the three, I am in favor of marriage and the military.

But Amway is a fucking cult.

Lets get back to Tony and Maria before I get all the way up on my soap box.

The sad fact is, they are a small percentage of the other Tony and Maria’s out there, cranking out children like an assembly line.

I saw an article that stated that a lot of kids have kids because it allows them to do something important in their life.
As an esteem builder.

Kind of a self improvement thru reproduction.

I will laugh at that line for a few minutes and then I realize that there is a pretty good shot that I will be paying taxes to keep Maria and the kids in food and huggies for a good long time.

And I won’t even be invited to the family BBQs.

 

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Posted by on September 23, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Open Seseme…

Oscar the grouch.

Represent, bitches.

Oscar was a grumpy shit way back when. Back when you were young enough to get in trouble for being in a bad mood.

I think it had to do with living in a trash can and being the unspoken homeless guy on the show.

Bert and Ernie had a house and they didn’t seem to have jobs at all. They were either mediocre kids, living without parents or retarded adults who might be gay.

Take your pick.

Back to Oscar.

I seem to end up dealing with the homeless a lot on this blog and I can’t figure out if it is an obsession or just good choices on writing content.

I saw a new Muppet Movie is coming out and it got me thinking about Oscar.

Oscar came at us during a time in our life when we were being bombarded with vanilla, black and white views of life. The cartoons reflected either a good guy or a bad guy. The good guys were always good and the bad guys were always bad.

And then there was Oscar.

Oscar was a good guy that bitched about everything. but everyone seemed to like, and he was just kind of made fun of, but he spoke his mind and was more or less accepted by the majority.

All without getting a time out.

I am seeing scary similarities between myself and Oscar.

And, in a way, I kind of like that.

Oscar pretty much demanded that you accept him and his shitty attitude at face value. He taught us to be pushy and outspoken way before that was allowed by school or our parents.

And never once did he get the recognition.

Hell, some of us have personalities based on it.

Willy the grouch.

Has a nice little ring to it, ay?

When my kids were growing up, I started watching Sesame Street again. I was a little twisted up by it at first.

The Muppets were puppets and never aged, so all my old friends were still vibrant and funny.

But the people changed.

They were older and what was once friendly and helpful was now kind of creepy and moist? and made me afraid to leave my kids alone in the same room with them.

But I got over it and sat with my daughter and clapped and sang. Daddy stuff.

And then your kids grow up and, at least mentally, you put the Muppets on the shelf again.

Until the grand kids show up. Then you can watch again.

And I will still be creeped out by the overly sugary-sweet delivery of the cast of humans then, too.

But the Muppets will still be there.

And, fuzzy pound for fuzzy pound, Kermit the Frog is the elder statesman of childrens television. He kicks the shit out of Spongebob with one thin furry arm held behind his back with a little black stick.

And he will bitch slap Hello Kitty without working up a sweat.

Although, Hello Kitty has a Japanese following that is fanatical and well monied, so maybe that’s a bad comparison.

Getting back to Oscar the Grouch, I like to think he was a roll model for some, if not all of us.

He catered to the inner asshole.

Thank you Oscar.

I would follow you into Muppet hell, you magnificent fuzzy bastard.

 
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Posted by on September 14, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Old School Evil Couple.

This is an early argument that a friend reminder me of, that I had all but forgot.

And it involves my favorite couple.

The Evil Couple.

For those new to the blog, the Evil Couple are simply a couple that comes into Starbucks near my office andhas the most uncomfortable arguments where Mrs, Evil treats Mr. Evil (And everyone else around) like shit she found on her shoe. My favorite description is that she treats you like a moron and she is sick of your shit. That little statement is as accurate now as when I first wrote it.

As a visual, Mr. Evil is a doctor (Always wearing scrubs), he has a local practice in Manhattan Beach. He is mid 40’s to 50’s, good looking, and you would trust your health to him.

Mrs. Evil is a conundrum that confuses and delights me, excites and shames me.

She is mid to late 30’s. She wears thick gray sweats, the kind that muscle guys in the 70’s wore, an over sized t-shirt without a bra. Watching her for a few seconds tells you this. When she turns to the side and her breasts (Impressive DD’s) take a second to catch up, you know something is up. Her hair would be long and blond, however, it is never styled and is worn in kind of a low rise blond afro.

This was the only way I have ever seen her dress.

Until recently. Apparently, she is in real estate, and when she is dressed up for work, I have not seen a woman this stunning for a long time.

When she rips into her husband or anyone around her, the entire encounter is made that much more evil by the fact that she has a Russian accent. It shouldn’t, but it does make a difference.

Enough background, on with the shit.

They were waiting for me when I got to Starbucks. The gods smiled and the table next to them was open.

Good. I hate trying to listen in from a few tables away.

Rude? Yes. Fascinating? Absolutely.

Anyway, the argument was just warming up when I got there.

The twins, it seems, were just starting a new school and the question was, “Should they be in the same class?”

“They will be picked on if they are apart, you know this.” Mrs. Evil has a way of ending her sentance that seems to imply that you are simply confused.

“They need to learn to rely on themselves, not on each other.” He is the calm cool voice of reason.

And she could care less.

“Why is it so important to you that they be unhappy?” He voice can drip sarcasm like no other.

“I don’t want them to be unhappy. Miss Cormack said-”

“She was a whore of a teacher, she spent so much time trying to show you her tits. She was a pig.” She finished with a definitive sip of her latte.

Mr. Evil says nothing. What do you say, really? The argument has shifted from arguing about the classroom assignments of the kids, to whether or not their old teacher (?) was a whore. I am a little shocked she hasn’t accused him of sleeping with her.

“I never noticed that sort of behavior.” Mr. Evil’s voice takes on the tone of someone that knows he is fucked, no matter where it goes from here.

“You loved it, go lie to someone else.”

I spoke too soon. I need to be more patient.

His phone chirps like a boon from the gods. The tension seems to breaks a bit.

They begin texting for a few minutes as if they are not in the middle of an argument.

And maybe they aren’t.

Maybe this is the way they interact on the day to day. A friend of mine once gave the opinion that she does this to drive their sex life, and that she must go with him to work and have make up sex either in the elevator or in his office.

At first, I dismissed such a twisted scenario. Maybe there is more to it than I saw then. Maybe twisted is how you have to view it. You have to twist yourself up or it makes no sense.

To quote Mr. Spock, “In an insane society, a sane man must be viewed as insane.”

God, I miss Star Trek.

 
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Posted by on September 2, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Of all the Gin joints in all the world…

There is a Starbucks in Hawthorne that always has their AC running when I go there.

I call it the Freezer.

Thank god they serve hot coffee there, because at 59 degrees, hypothermia can set in with iced coffee before you can finish your blueberry scone.

I got in line behind two people and when I finally stood in front of the cashier, my nipples were like little rocks, no lie.

I got my cup of addiction and had a seat.

Its not a Starbucks I go to that often, mainly because I gave my parka to Goodwill when I moved back to LA from Portland Oregon.

Just as I was setting up my laptop, I saw her come in.

Wow.

Every now and then you see someone with the beautiful gene and the intelligence to present it.

Stunning woman. Average height, maybe mid-thirties. Business suit cut well enough to accentuate an incredible build without being slutty. (Harder than you think.) Just beyond shoulder-length blond hair styled very feathery without going near “Jersey Hair.” Mirrored sun glasses hid what had to be blue eyes, and a flawless, perfect mouth.

I had this feeling that I knew her, My mind kept telling me that was impossible, she had the type of looks you remember seeing.

With her was a younger man in a business suit. He had that look of being just a step above car salesman.

Real estate agent.

I usually do my best not to stare, but I step over into rude often enough that I may just retire there and get it over with.

They got their coffee and sat down at a table just behind me.

Miss Gorgeous sat less than a foot behind me.

“A few good prospects today, the Asian lady kept telling her husband they would love living there. This should sell quickly.” The young guy had a salesman’s voice, suave and assured.

“She smelled like dead fish, I hated them.” The woman’s voice drifted back, cultured and European.

Oh shit…..I felt a chill make its way up my spine and raise every hair on the back of my neck.

I know that voice. I have written several thousand words about this woman.

My ass went into full clinch with recognition.

Mrs. Evil. Couple.

It was one of those moments where, to quote one of my favorite comics, “The left half and the right half of the brain come to a screeching halt. The left says to the right, Its dark in here, and we may die.”

This evil, rotten…..the only word that comes to mind is bitch, but it doesn’t carry enough venom. I would use the C word, but it isn’t broad enough in scope.

To suddenly have the image of an incredibly beautiful woman mixed in with memories of personally witnessing her absolute disdain for everyone and everything around her was almost too much to take.

Her voice pulled my tortured mind back to the present.

“Why did you keep talking about your sister? You kept going on and on, it was very uncomfortable. I doubt we will get any offers because of it.”

“What?” The young guy seemed confused, suddenly slammed. “We were talking about family and siblings. I didn’t think it seemed out of place.” There was doubt in his voice.

She pounced on it. “It was creepy, I thought she was an ex lover until you said she was your sister.”

That got him. “I really think that’s uncalled for.” He was indignant and rightfully so.

Not that it would help. He went for an end to the subject. “We’ll just agree to disagree.”

Take that disagree and cram it, buddy. You have no clue who you are messing with.

“You remind me of my cousin.” She changed the subject without warning.

“Huh, what cousin?” The young guy was off balance.

“He is young, a drug addict, he sucks old men for money. He would agree with you, you seem very similar.“

It was a football punt to the nut sack that the kid never saw coming. It was insulting on several levels at once.

He sputtered for a few moments, then just got up and left without saying a word.

I looked at the front counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her watching him go.

She made a noise that sounded like she was chuckling.

I wanted to turn around so badly, but I reminded myself that Mr. and Mrs. Evil Couple had no idea that they occupied such a prominent place in my life. Mainly as entertainment, but still.

When she spoke, I thought at first she was talking either out loud or to me. Then I realized she was on her phone.

“I don’t want to work with Henry again, he ruined the open house.” Sounded like the boss on the phone.

“I think he was high today, he hit on the wives, and a few of the husbands, I think.”

The buzz on the phone was someone outraged.

“Don’t worry, I have an offer to submit, one of my clients texted me on the way to Starbucks.”

The conversation must have changed, I couldn’t hear anything else on the phone, but I knew real estate people.

The broker she worked for may or may not believe her, but in real estate, or just sales in general, you go with the hot hand. If she was selling big, the young guy would be thrown under the bus without hesitation.

I love this woman.

There is something just old school menacing about her. Like the evil queen in the Disney version of Snow White, but with a better ass. The fact that she cleaned up into a stunner only served to make it all hotter and more shameful at the same time. It was one of those situations that was exhilarating, and at the same time, you just felt dirty.

She might be the antichrist.

Before anyone goes off on that comment, I didn’t say she was, I said she might be. All I know is that she is married to a doctor, lives in the tree section of Manhattan Beach, and gave birth to twins about ten years ago.

Absolutely nothing to connect her to most of Revelations.

Unless of course the twins are named Famine and Pestilence.

 
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Posted by on August 23, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Rearing its ugly head…Some heads are uglier than others

There is a brisk little business going on at Starbucks, and it ain’t coffee.

There is a husky little blonde running a full scale SAT cram group. Let’s call her Blondie.

There are 5 of them, usually at the big table if its available. They are there from 7 to 8.

Blondie runs a tight ship. She barks her orders and the girls march in lock step.

I have no idea what she charges, but if she can whip these dipshits into high SAT scores, she deserves a frickin medal. There are a few girls that I honestly wonder if they attended, much less graduated from, high school.
You always hope girls this dumb either marry well or lose their looks young. Otherwise, they are just a few months away from swinging on a pole for a living.

Pretty good rule of thumb is that is that if your job involves baby oil and glitter, you’ve made a pretty serious vocational error somewhere.

Not to bash strippers. Any girl who is willing to dance for a living, just to pay for college of course, should be commended for their work ethic.

Plus its hard for a man to criticize a woman in a G-string. Its an instinct thing.

But most women hate strippers. I have never been able to understand that, and in a weird way, I don’t really want to know why.

Back to Blondie.

You have to admire the entrepreneurial spirit.

But how does it stack up against old and bitchie?

Let me explain.

The big table at a Starbucks is the only area of the store that customers often have an agenda for sitting there. Business people, students, and those that feel the need to spread out.

And then there’s the Penguins.

The Penguins are a trio of little old ladies who come in every other morning to play cards. They order their tea, bitch unmercifully about the price, and play a card game that looks suspiciously like gin rummy, but I am not sure, because they cover their cards like high stakes poker players.

They look like they are from the old country. Not my old country, but somebodies old country.

I call them Penquins they always dress in dark colors, are kind of thin in the shoulders and broad in the hip.

I first noticed them one morning while walking to work. As I have mentioned previously, I park about a quarter mile from my office and walk down. As we are the last office building before the beach, parking sucks like no place else.

I noticed the three old ladies walking in front of me. They waddled along in a line. As an obstacle got in their way, they would waddle around it, still playing follow the leader.

And then it hit me. Penguins. I would have called them Lemmings, but I was unsure about getting them to walk over a cliff.

Some people have no sense of humor.

They went right into Starbucks. By this time, I was following along, having been unable to get around them without resorting to old school hockey checking.

They got their tea and complained in their little old biddie fashion, and then sat down to play their cards.

That is when the bitching began.

What was amazing was that it almost seemed that they were having 3 separate conversations, each one complaining about different people.

It was like a bitchie support group.

Enough background.

Blondie was mid chastise with one of the girls about her lack of understand of basic algebra, when the Penguins came in.

Blondie didn’t notice, but the Penguins immediately saw that their usual spot was occupied.

The Penguins waited in line, casting ugly looks at the main table.

It was developing nicely, but I think I was the only one that was getting the situation.

I love this.

The Penguins waited until they all got their tea, properly creamed and sugared them, then marched, I say marched damn it, over to the main table.

“You can’t have the whole table.” The head Penguin’s voice was a combination of shrill and crackly. It was an perfect combo of menace and wicked old, like a witch, maybe.

“We were here first.” Blondie didn’t even look up. She was a business woman and I respect that.

“We want to play cards.” The head Penguin tossed her cards onto the table like she was throwing down a gauntlet.

Blondie looked up. “What is it you want me to do about that? We were here, and we’re not done.” She stared for a few seconds more, then looked down at her book.

The girls, the students, were looking back and forth like anxious little animals, just about to bolt at the first sign that this gets out of hand. Its the smart move. Survival, more than algebra, seems to be their skill.

The Penguins were outraged. There are several things that I can see happening.

They might trade blows. I said might, I didn’t say it was the most probable, just might. And it would be the funnest to watch.

The Penguins should leave. They could go to Coffee Bean. Besides, the crowd at Coffee Bean was much closer to their age. Hell, they may even pick up a few more players.

And then, they did the unexpected.

Without saying a word, the Penguins moved as one to an empty small round table right behind Blondie. The little round tables were way too small to play cards on.

But they had no intention of playing cards.

They started complaining.

All three of the Penguins began chastising Blondie, discussing her lack of manners, rudeness in general.

And then it got ugly.

The Penguins got nowhere attacking Blondie’s behavior. The opening salvo was harsh.

“And not a pretty girl.”

5 words was all it took. Blondie kept staring down at her book, but I could see her eyes well up.

In that moment, they broke her.

It was over.

“We’re done for today.” Blondie closed her book, gathered her stuff and got up.

I thought she was going to head straight out, but she hesitated.

Blondie took one quick step and bent, her head about 6 inches from the ear of the head Penguin.

I have no idea what she said. Whatever it was, it was quick. She straightened, then walked out.

The head Penguin sat there for several minutes, saying nothing.

And then they played cards.

But the head Penguin never lost the haunted look.

Blondie’s parting shot messed with her for awhile.

Good.

 
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Posted by on August 21, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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The sound…….of Silence.

There is a vicious, scorched-earth, fully bi-polar argument going in Starbucks right now. Shit is being thrown out there that you should never say to someone you are sleeping with, much less a loved one.

In total silence.

There is a guy at a corner table who is deaf. He has his Iphone propped up against his coffee cup, and if I casually lean over, there is a dark haired woman signing furiously and angrily into her webcam.

I have no clue whats being said other than the expressions, unlike Spanish, which I can sound out. I don’t even know how to sign what day it is.

He has been signing furiously for thirty seconds and now slowly licked several of his fingers and it has seriously pissed off the woman on the phone even more than before. Sign language seems to have newer options for going dirty.

This is absolutely fascinating.

And then its over, he gets up and leaves, in total silence.

He may be deaf, but he still has the same issues we all do. Some more than others.

I couldn’t be deaf, I would go insane. Anger demands noise, that is basic human nature.

But on the same note, being deaf would make me impossible to be around as well. Most deaf people accept it and grow to enjoy it.

Not me.

For me, it would be like having a permanent case of the shits. Always there, always annoying. I would exist in this permanent cloud of pissy that would make me even more unpleasant than I am.

And I can be pretty unpleasant.

But I started wondering why the deaf guy has an Iphone to begin with, its not like he can use it.

And then it hits me like a smack with the big “Hey dumbfuck!” stick.

He is using his phone.

Maybe not how I would, but now everyone can use a phone. The technology has now caught up with the needs of the deaf.

In other words, the people that don’t need phones? They now need phones. And not just any phone, but one of the most expensive, high end phones on the market, with one of the costliest rate plans.

Very clever, AT&T. Or shall I just call you Mr. Jobs?

I can see it all now.

This is world wide conspiracy shit. This is like an Internet grassy knoll, data plan goes back….and to the left, broadband-Da Vinci code type thing.

Chilling.

Should I suddenly meet with some sort of suspicious accident, be aware that “They” had a hand in it.
(And by “Accident” I don’t mean like a child fouling himself. I have only done that once and it involved a lot of grain alcohol.)

I have begun poring over my cell bill, looking for some sort of code. Unfortunately, I think I have a better chance to crack the Beale Cipher, (Google it), than I do of figuring out the AT&T/Apple master plan.

But at least we know there is one.

 
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Posted by on August 18, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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When you least expect it…Evil Couple.

There are days that life decides to surprise you in a way that is so totally shocking, you almost don’t believe it.

I park about a quarter mile from my office, with Starbucks halfway in between. Its Manhattan Beach, parking sucks 24 7.

I was sending a text and not paying attention, just standing right in front of the escalator when a woman shoved past me. We never touched, but I still felt bad because I was blocking the way.

“Oh, sorry.” I muttered and stepped onto the escalator, right behind the woman I had blocked.

She turned and glared at me, saying nothing. My eyes widened a bit in recognition.

Mrs. Evil Couple.

“Excuse me.” A friendly voice sounded from behind me. I stepped to the side and an older man in surgical scrubs stepped politely past me.

Mr. Evil Couple.

Oh shit!

I am in the scene today. Its like winning a small prize unexpectedly.

“You didn’t need to run off like that.” He stands next to her, looking straight ahead.

“This sounds like your problem, not mine.”

For a second, I am confused by her statement, but then I realize that she is talking on her phone. She ignores his comment.

“Your car smells like shit, I don’t like to ride in it.” As she inclines her head to indicate him, it becomes apparent that she is arguing on the phone with someone, and with her husband, in person.

Multitask arguing. This woman is a dynamo.

I have to remind myself that they don’t realize that I consider their life to be my entertainment.

It is evil, all by itself, But I’m good with it.

I try to act casual and just meander towards Starbucks, and still stay close enough to hear them. I am aided in this by several other people all going in the same direction.

Based on his comments, he was about to pull into a parking spot when she bolted from the car. I am not sure why they rode together, as I had the impression that they rode separately and just met up at Starbucks. I am floored by what he says next.

“The dealership with have your car by tonight, they had to send to San Diego for one the right color.” He sounds apologetic.

“Whatever.” She shits on his attempt at nice.

He bought this bitch a new car?

I know how bad that sounds. Don’t judge me, you weren’t there.

Last I heard her car was being fixed because she hit it with a pole. Her anger then was directed at her husband because he allowed the insurance company to raise her premium, which they do when you hit a pole.

She ignores him and begins arguing with the person on the phone.

“She is old and I have no patience with her.” That little tidbit comes drifting back as we enter Starbucks. Drawing once again on my total lack of manners and listening in during previous conversations, I come to the conclusion that she is arguing with her sister about thier mother. She has stated before to her sister that their mother would have to go live either in a home or with the sister. Her classic comment during that little exchange was that the home can’t be so close to her house that “I feel guilty that I don’t see her every week.”

Lotta love going on there.

If I could have planned this morning, I don’t know that I could have thought of something more delightful. I am almost giddy.

She leaves him to order and walks over to the bathroom while still arguing with her sister. I hear the F word echoing back out of the little alcove with the bathroom door.

She tries the door and finds it locked.

She begins to knock, slowly, loudly and deliberately. And she doesn’t stop.

Awesome.

I use that word a lot when I describe Mrs. Evil’s antics. I am so in awe of the arrogant disdain she views the world around her and her total lack of caring what anyone, including her husband, thinks.

I counted the number of knocks. At 75, the door opened and a thoroughly embarrassed woman came out. The woman tried to glare at her, but it bounced off of Mrs. Evil as she steps briskly past and shuts the door.

The woman, red faced and pissed, finally just stomps off. She can’t win this and she knows it.

It makes me wonder why her husband hasn’t stomped off, years ago. What power does she have over him? Pictures of him having sex with animals? Drugs? Did her family finance medical school for him?

Maybe its a sex thing. A close friend of mine made the comment about this very subject that she, and I am quoting her, “must suck great cock.” Its a crude statement, but I have seen marriages based on weirder shit.

And who knows, maybe she does.

In the end, that is all I get from them today. A few minutes later, Mrs. Evil walks out of the bathroom and sails past her husband, who happened to be getting their coffee creations from the barrista.

He looked around like a little kid who realized mom has left him in the store alone. He took off, trying to catch up.

Good luck, pal.

She has been several steps ahead of you for years.

Sic semper tyrannis

 
5 Comments

Posted by on August 10, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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The first FB posts about the evil couple.

Willy McKinley
Sitting in Starbucks while the couple next to me is having a hideous argument.
May 25 at 8:30am · Privacy:Friends Only · LikeUnlike ·

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Rebecca Standridge, Vicki Morris Nardone and 2 others like this.
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Willy McKinley They just exchanged the ritual bastard/bitch name calling. IT’S ON!
May 25 at 8:42am · LikeUnlike · 4 peopleLoading…
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Stacy Herring Saez Keep us posted!
May 25 at 8:50am · LikeUnlike
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Rachel Picard Oooo… let us know when someone gets a drink thrown in their face!
May 25 at 9:00am · LikeUnlike
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Susie M Henderson Wilkinson Update plez – love that stuff!! Lol
May 25 at 9:19am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley Arguing over your kids should never degenerate into the wife accusing the husband of being either gay or in love with their own mother. And a husband should never accuse his wife of being frigid in a Starbucks. I should start a blog.
May 25 at 9:20am · LikeUnlike
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Susie M Henderson Wilkinson LMAO!!! Except the kid part…. !
May 25 at 9:23am · LikeUnlike
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Christy Myers As the stomach turns
May 25 at 9:23am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley He thinks the twins should be in separate classes. She doesn’t. That is the starting point. Are you F-ing kidding me?
May 25 at 9:27am · LikeUnlike
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Donell Gereau O’Brien AND…….what happen to the blog?
May 25 at 10:12am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley There is a dark side of my soul that really enjoyed being right there.
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Willy McKinley
Meanwhile, back at Starbuck’s, the fighting couple are here, and they are on their FRICKIN’ honeymoon! Its a bipolar relationship. WTF?!?!
June 1 at 8:08am · Privacy:Friends Only · LikeUnlike ·

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Vicki Morris Nardone likes this.
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Willy McKinley Honeymoons over. They are arguing about money now. She said his father was retarded. I would cold cock her over that one.
June 1 at 8:28am · LikeUnlike
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Karen Goldstein-Eubanks You need to find out from the staff how often they come in so you can plan accordingly and you never miss their fights.
June 1 at 8:44am · LikeUnlike
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Krista Linkogle-Kaplan Great entertainment in the morning!!
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Willy McKinley
Boring day at Starbuck’s. No drama. Odd how fast you get used to that.
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Willy McKinley
Angry wife just stomped into Starbucks. No sign of husband. Will there be a game today? Waiting…………
June 8 at 8:12am · Privacy:Friends Only · LikeUnlike ·
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Ezequiel Argueta, Vicki Morris Nardone and 2 others like this.
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Bob Tappan I don’t think all that caffeine is helping them.
June 8 at 8:15am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley Husband just arrived. They are being pleasant, but she is quiet and glaring.
June 8 at 8:22am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley They are arguing about Posturpedic beds.
June 8 at 8:25am · LikeUnlike
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Tracy De Long I love your updates about the Starbucks couple!!
June 8 at 8:34am · LikeUnlike · 2 peopleLoading…
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Willy McKinley She said he treats his secretary like servant, or a whore. Her foot hurts and it is his fault because he is a Dr.
June 8 at 8:38am · LikeUnlike
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Stacy Herring Saez This needs to be a novel. I’m hooked!
June 8 at 8:43am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley He was trying to text a friend to arrange dinner and was questioning what to text. She snatched it out of his hand and said he “Doesn’t know shit.”
June 8 at 8:43am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley And the Czech accent makes it so much worse.
June 8 at 8:43am · LikeUnlike
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Bob Tappan Czech accent is bad? I could listen to Zuzana at bodyrock.tv talk all day long…
June 8 at 8:45am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley Thats because she’s hot, Bob.
June 8 at 8:48am · LikeUnlike
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Bob Tappan Fair enough.
June 8 at 9:06am · LikeUnlike
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Christy Myers And so are the days of our lives
June 8 at 10:29am · LikeUnlike
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Madelon Ries Gerety My Starbucks is not exciting at all!
June 8 at 12:31pm · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley I have been accused of making up the StarBuck’s couple. I can assure you that they exist.
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Willy McKinley
So people…….what’s up?
June 15 at 7:48am · Privacy:Friends Only · LikeUnlike ·

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Christy Myers why aren’t you at Starbucks giving us an update?
June 15 at 10:15am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley They have been missing.
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Willy McKinley
At Starbucks and they are not here. The young twenties something girl next to me is being snotty with her boyfriend on the phone. Sigh…….its not the same. God I miss them.
June 21 at 7:51am · Privacy:Friends Only · LikeUnlike ·

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Christine Staley, Karen Goldstein-Eubanks, Lisa Dignan Christiansen and 2 others like this.
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Christy Myers NOOOOOOOOOO
June 21 at 9:58am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley I know. The girl was an amateur. I got a slap-fight when I was ready for a war.
June 21 at 10:16am · LikeUnlike · 1 personLoading…
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Megan McKinley what?
June 21 at 10:46am · LikeUnlike
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Willy McKinley There is a couple that argue every morning at Starbuck’s. They haven’t been there for a few days and I miss them.
June 21 at 10:47am · LikeUnlike
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Christy Myers Maybe they are on vacation? They have to come back
June 21 at 11:27am · LikeUnlike
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Megan McKinley lol thats nice dad.
June 21 at 12:50pm · LikeUnlike
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Stacey Rennie I miss them too
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And then the blog started.
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4 Comments

Posted by on August 5, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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The startling conclusion….(Evil Couple part 2)

The best description I have come up with for Mrs. Evil Couple is that her whole manner for dealing with people is that she thinks you are a moron, and she is sick of your shit. And she treats everyone this way, the cashier, Barrista, people in line and at the cream and sugar kiosk and that also includes her husband.
The husband paid with out saying anything, just took his change and sat down.
The wife was attempting to call someone who was not answering their phone, loudly sighing each time she dialed and got no answer.
When the husband sat down, the fun began.
It is customary that when the fight starts, the fighters touch gloves and are warned to protect themselves at all times.
Not this woman.
He had gotten both of their coffees, sat down and had just dialed and put the phone to his ear when she reached over and grabbed his wrist, pulling HIS phone away from HIS head.
“I am not happy with the upstairs remodel, I want the other one.”  She said, picking up her coffee without even a thanks. I realize that it should not make her sound more evil that she has a Czech accent, but it does.
His face was a mask of confusion. “What? The contractors started on that two days ago!”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t care, it is horrible. I want it changed.”
“But this was the design you wanted-”
“Fine, you move into that room, I won’t let the boys sleep there.”
“My father said that the colors-”
“I don’t want to hear what your father has to say, he is so stupid, sometimes I think he’s retarded.”
The confused slash pained look on his face is that of a man that realizes he is now fucked, no matter what he does.
She sips her latte and all but spits it on the table.  “You got it too hot, again.”
He runs a hand thru his hair, trying to get his brain in synch again.
“I can talk to the contractor before lunch, let him know you want to make a change.” He taps a note to himself on his Blackberry.
My gut instinct is to despise this guy for having no backbone.
However, I know something about dealing with difficult women. He is just keeping his head down like a man being shot at by a crazy person.
He decided to try a different direction. He taps his Blackberry.
“Sean texted me earlier, he and Julie would like us to go to dinner sometime this week, I didn’t know what night would be best.” He waited for her to consider.
She is not having any of that common courtesy shit from him.
“Thats because you don’t know shit.” She mutters under her breath and snatches, yes snatches his Blackberry up and begins, I assume, to reply to HIS text on HIS Blackberry.
He is fuming the whole time. When she is done, she puts it down and they lock eyes for a few seconds, before he breaks eye contact.
She actually smiled as she picked up her coffee, which two seconds ago was too hot to drink, and took a huge sip.
“The soy has gone bad.” She made another face.
He busied himself with his phone. His brows peeked at something on his Blackberry.
“My mom wants us to come out to come stay for the weekend.”
“Ugh, I can’t deal with your parents right now.” Yeah, she looks like she is stressing, about important stuff, like getting her hair combed.
“I would like to see my mom.”
“Then you should have married her, I think you must be queer for her.” In my family, the fistfight would have just begun.
He is done. He puts his hands down, palms flat on the table in front and leans in.
“Quit being a bitch!” His voice is low, pitched for her ears only, still kind of polite.
“Quit being such a faggot BASTARD!” Her voice is loud, pitched for the guy in the bathroom to hear clearly. The Czech accent just ratchets this up another notch.
The Starbucks has come to a standstill. It exists in this awkward pocket of time.
Delicious.
The hang time on this one is agonizing.
And just as quickly, its over.
His Blackberry buzzes. He picks it up and reads it, the tension oddly draining out of him.
WTF?
“Sean likes Friday, we should go to the Hawaiian place again.”
She smiles, no shit, she smiles. “I like the bacon rice.”
They stand and get ready to leave.
“Can I walk you to the office?”
He smiles like they just met and she did not just shit on him in public.
“Sure.”
I sit stunned and confused. This had nothing to do with me, I was just a witness.
But I still feel dirty.

 
5 Comments

Posted by on August 2, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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