hornitos

cont. from last entry

so, this one-night-stand turns into a 3 day sex and booze binge. .
but you know, i'm not really feeling her . . i'm not sure i even like her, and i'm not sure she even likes me. .
she's from upper class orange county, carries prada bags and drives a really nice car, and i'm from east ventura, lower middle class, wear winos, baseball caps, t-shirts and the same levi's for days at a time.

so we kinda fight a lot . . i've even made her sleep on the couch a couple of times. . wishing i could send her home, but she's always too drunk to drive. .

and then after about a month of seeing her off and on. . she says to me. .
" i'm leaving my husband and getting my own apartment"
so i say " i hope you're not doing this for me, because that would be an awful mistake"
but she assures me, she's not.
then she shows me an apt. that she can get into right away, and it's in one of the worst neighborhoods in town. and i tell her
" you should wait for something better"
but does she listen to me? nope.
so i help her move some stuff in and stay with her on her first night there.

the very next morning , she gets up early to go back to her old house and get her kids ready for school. . the next thing i know , i'm awakened by . .
"open up! it's the police!"
and i start to laugh a little , thinking the neighbors are getting busted for something. . but, no. . they break the door down and draw guns on me . and start screaming all that shit at one time, like they do, to confuse you. . and i look up at 'em from in bed and say "i think you're looking for somebody else. we, just moved in last night" . .but of course they handcuff me and ask all the usual questions . . " are there any weapons in the house?". . as i instantly think of the cane beside the bed with the sword in it that my friend had shown me the night before, and i say. . " not that i know of"
unfortunately , i've been thru this process before , so i wasn't really worried about any of it, but it was annoying. . sitting there handcuffed in my underwear. . with about 8 task force people knocking shit around probably feeling a little stupid. . but they don't wanna go thru this for nothing , so i get the 3rd degree, have i ever been arrested before ? " never for felony" i answer. are there any drugs in here?
although the room is scattered with beer bottles and maybe a tequila bottle , and a cognac bottle and a crown royal bottle . .you get the idea. . but we're not even stoners. .much less tweakers. . so , again i'm not worried about it , and after about an hour . . i finally get un-handcuffed and they leave with a slight apology and a broken door that won't shut anymore. .

later that evening , i get a phone call from the deputy district attorney of santa barabara county apologizing for the mistake and wondering if i have any questions about what happened. .
and i say . . " yeah. why didn't you ask the apt manager if the person you were looking for actually lived there.?"

and he says. ." we check all forwarding mail addresses to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen"

and i say " no intelligent drug dealer leaves a forwarding address with the post office"

and then he rambles on for awhile until i finally cut him off and say " i'm at work right now, but thanks for the call"

more later . .


btw , i'm going to san francisco next week to see the stiff little fingers and a baseball game . . so see ya'

bowie quote for tonight " i love you in your fuck-me-pumps"

it's true