Spent most of yesterday working on computers. My friend Charlie brought me his wife's computer that had quit working. I immediately knew what was wrong and changed the power supply and got it working again. Charlie was overjoyed when he came to pick it up and take it home as I had saved him hundreds of dollars. I also put together a new and much faster computer yesterday for myself and am pleased. I finally just broke down and charged some computer parts to my credit card. My old computer is on its last legs and will now become a file server for my music and videos. That's about all it is good for.
Rosa called me last night as I was crawling into the bed. We ended up talking for what seemed like hours. She asked me a hundred questions about my former marriage.
"What was your ex-wife's favorite thing to do?" she asked as I was lying in the bed on my cordless phone.
"Rachel loved to eat out," I replied. "We spent a fortune eating out while we were married. I would have rather we stayed at home and cooked."
"What kind of food?"
"Anything Asian or Chinese," I replied. "We would drive all the way up to Atlanta just to eat sushi or bento boxes."
"I never did like Chinese," Rosa said. "It always looked like something a cat threw up."
I laughed.
"Why couldn't she have children?" Rosa then asked.
"Rachel had polycystic ovary syndrome," I replied. "Her ovaries were filled with cysts interrupting egg production."
"Did you own your house?"
"I took out a mortgage and bought our house just before I and Rachel got married," I said. "I gave it to Rachel in the divorce along with the payments. Rachel got our new Volkswagen as well. I didn't want it or the payments. It was a chick car."
It was my turn to ask questions.
"What was your daughter's father like?" I asked Rosa. "And were you two married?"
"Oh, hell no," Rosa replied. "We were never married. Peter was a bastard who loved me and left me. I haven't seen him in twenty years."
The conversation then took a nose dive into the gutter as I and Rosa got to talking about her past prostitution days.
"What was the the weirdest thing about being a hooker?" I asked.
"Weird men wanting anal sex," she said. "I drew the line at that. Nobody was sticking their strange wanger up my poop chute."
I burst out laughing.
"Was it scary?"
"It could be," Rosa said. "I was so hooked on crack that I would have done anything for my next fix, though. The thought of getting your next rock overcame your fears. You got used to it."
"What was the worst thing about prostituting?" I then asked.
"The police," Rosa said. "The police would harass us ladies of the night. When I lived in Atlanta, their police were the worst – bunch of corrupt bastards. I spent many a night in jail waiting on one of my working girlfriends to come and bail me out."
"Did you make good money?"
"I made damn good money," Rosa said. "I would charge $20 dollars for a blow job or hand job, and $40 dollars for a missionary style screw. I smoked it all up in my crack pipe, though."
The midnight hour had arrived and I yawned deeply. Rosa told me goodnight and that she would see me in the morning. I hung up the phone, rolled over, and went to sleep for a few hours. I love I and Rosa's talks. She has lived such an interesting life.
8 comments:
Hi Andrew,
Sounds like Rosa is a hotbed of knowledge, question is, do you really wanna know what she has to convey? LOL
hahahh..nothing better than starting off my monday morning by reading: strange wanger in the poop chute. HILARIOUS!
Always,
crusty
Just a note, Andrew, to say ... I love your blog and read it most every day. I love your time with Rosa and George ... and most of all your honesty.
From one fledgling 12 stepper to another.
Rosa's life reads like a story, but a bad one. Right now, this is the good stuff. She's sober, owning her own body, and has a genuine friend that she's completely at ease with.
And you? The spin you put on your everyday life has made you one popular guy. And quite a storyteller.
It always amazes me that when i hear about other people's lives, how content i can become with my own.
God bless Rosa for getting out of that life.
That's a bloody tough life.
It is nice to know that even in Rosa's worst moments in life, she still respected her ass. Shame on those men who wanted to stick it in the dirt.
Andrew, I just read quit a bit of your blog by way of the "next blog" button and I'm impressed with your writing and what you've done with your life. I'm going to continue on "next blog"-ing tonight, and I may not be back, but I wanted to say two things that are completely irrelevant to your subject, but pertinent to your practice here. I edit manuscripts and so I read with an editor's eye (unfortunately). As a result typos or improper grammar irritate my senses when I'm trying to focus on good material. It is incorrect (and distracting) to say "I and so-and-so" did this, or somebody did something to "I and so-and-so." You alway put the other person first and the "I" should be "me,""my," "mine," and sometimes "I." To see which pronoun to use, just take away the other person and see which pronoun works. Like, you'd not say "Rosa came to see my dad and I." The correct way is "Rosa came to see my dad and me." The second-to-last line of this post should be "I love Rosa's and my talks." And so on. Sorry to be an annoying editing commenter.
BUT, on the flip side, you capture dialogue and the physical nuances of communication amazingly well. That is a skill that can not be taught. You must be a very observant person, a wonderful quality in a friend.
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