A few weeks ago I went to Felber's and got a beer and took it outside, in the back, where there's a picnic table and some lawn chairs. The weather was beautiful. Kathy was out there, and Mike and Debbie, and a few other people, including a tall, thin, attractive blonde with a nice figure and a pretty face who looked to be around my age.
I'm not normally attracted to tall women but there was something about this one. Maybe it was the reading glasses on a chain around her neck that made her look like a librarian, as I've always loved books and libraries. Or maybe it was the way she looked at me. I said Hi. “I haven't seen you around here before,” I added. “I'm Steve.”
“Hi, I'm Kathy,” she said, and held out her hand. “I'm not in town much, I live in...”
I forgot where she said she lived, one of the little towns within fifteen miles of Springfield.
“Another Kathy!” I said. “When I say ‘Kathy’ how will you guys know which one I'm talking to?” I said, grinning. Actually, the blonde Kathy's name was spelled “Kathie”. But I didn't know that then.
“I'll be Kathy one and she can be Kathy two,” blonde Kathy said.
“Huh uh,” brunette Kathy retorted. “I knew him first, I'm Kathy one!”
“Kathy One” went in to get more beer for her and Debbie and I chatted with “Kathy Two” for a while. Being the nerd I am, “Kathy One” and “Kathy Two” made me think of Seven of Nine. And of course being a cyborg myself, with the device implanted in my left eye, it made sense.
Seven of Nine made me think of the actress who played it, Jeri Ryan. Thinking of Jeri Ryan now makes me think of our President Elect and how he got there.
If it wasn't for the fact that a Borg's husband was a sex maniac, Barack Obama might never have become Senator and our first black President. I wrote about it back in 2004 when Obama was running for Senate, in a K5 diary called “The election is coming”.
Ryan and Seven of Nine's messy divorce (and sex parties, including wanting to watch his wife have sex with other men, according to the newspapers) was a horrible scandal to the uptight Republicans, and candidate Ryan no longer was Candidate Ryan. The Republicans had no candidate. They wound up running a black ultraneocon named Alan Keyes from Maryland, who had never set foot in Illinois before yet had the gall to badmouth Hillary Clinton for running for Senate in New York, even though she'd obtained residence there.
Obama beat the fellow by a landslide. The rest is history.
Uh, I guess that was history, too.
But I digress. I've been broke as hell this week; it's mortgage week, and after paying the mortgage and grocery shopping at Walmart, I didn't even have any drinking money left, let alone Supersizeme money. I've been taking sandwiches to work and snacking on crackers and peanut butter.
Thank God for George Washington Carver, who invented the stuff.
But Linda sold some of her furniture that she's been keeping in my garage, and at least paid some of the rent she's behind on. So I had ten bucks. I figured I'd go to the Shell station and put five in the gas tank and to Felber's and put the other five in my bladder.
As I was driving down sixth street I saw Mike's Lincoln parked outside JW's, so I pulled in behind it. I hadn't seen Mike in a while.
I owe him money. But Mike's a good friend I've known almost two decades.
He was playing one of the illegal gambling machines that are in every bar in Illinois, and drinking tequila as he is wont to do. I ordered a draft beer as I always do, because I can seldom afford anything more expensive.
He is indeed not doing well; I'm paying him back next payday. He'll need it.
He bought me a couple of beers. He left, and so did I. I got the gasoline and went to Felber's. Kathy, the blonde Kathy, Kathy Two, was there. We talked, and before my beer was done she bought ME another!
I'm not used to this, folks. Usually it's me that's buying, especially with women. Seldom does a woman buy ME a drink!
I made a dinner date with her for next payday. Fingers crossed...
We got to talking about family and kids and so forth, and she's had a bit of tragedy lately. Her grandmother just died, as did the guy she'd been living with. She's staying with her mother, who she doesn't get along with.
I told her about Linda renting a room. “Do you sleep together?” she asked. I replied in the negative, and she looked dubious.
“If we were sleeping together would I be collecting rent?”
As I said, she'd had some hard times and we talked about heartbreak and heartache and lost love and the story of an evening after Evil-X left when my youngest daughter caught me crying in the kitchen and asked “what's wrong, Dad?”
“My wife left me,” I sobbed.
“That's nothing, my MOM left me!”
I told Kathy “she really put me in my place with that.”
“I can't cry,” she said. “Never could.”
Borg, or android?
Nov 06, 2008