I'm Free

That bitch Paris just called and said she has found herself another man, some Metrosexual named Paris. I thought she was really taking to the real man stuff I was teaching her. Apparently she can only be seen in public with pretty boys and is forbidden by her mother that she isn't to be seen with Pirates. Ahhh fuck her and her mom anyways, everyone else has.

I thought something was up when she started complaining about having to bring me another beer. Like that's tough or something. She should have my job of translating "What-in-the-hell- is-going-on-in-the-world" to her. Try watching the news with chick. She thought Los Angeles was a state. One night after a real rough romp she turned to me and said, "I wonder where the moon goes at night". When I told her, she actually doubted me.

You should have been there the day I took her to the gas station for the first time. I let drive up to the pump and ask the attendant to filler up. After almost taking out the pump and finally turning off the engine she stuck her head out the window and told the kid working the pumps that she needed gas. He leaned down and told her that he'd love to fill up her tank but she'll have to move to the other side so he could reach it. The dumb bitch scooted over to where I was sitting in the passenger seat, sat on my lap and with her flirty Paris voice asked if he could reach it now?

My luck isn't too good this year with women. First we had the Angelina Jolie incident and Brad Pitt bogarting the lips. Then Uma Thurman tells me she can't come out and play anymore (she was getting too rough for me anyway). And now Paris.

Whose available? Where and who do I turn to?

Not Guilty

Big party at Neverland tonight. You're all invited if you're under 15 and male. O.J. will be the guest of honor. Robert Blake will be parking cars. Too bad Scott Peterson you should have been a real celebrity.

Where have you been Pirate man?

I have been in Idaho again. In a little berg called, Grangeville. The town reminds me of the town that got painted red in the Clint Eastwood movie, High Plains Drifter. I have been trekking up to Grangeville every four months or so overseeing the construction of a new sawmill that is being built in the little town. It will be a boost to the local economy when it finally opens in late November or early December this year.

The stay was pretty uneventful and paled in comparison of my Bonner's Ferry trip. I didn't save any old ladies or see any moose during my stay. I didn't even find a bookstore that I could peruse away some time. I did find a local diner that I was able to attain some fair conversation from the locals.

I did have a little excitement on my flight from Portland to Seattle before the connection to Lewiston, Idaho. On the flight to Seattle I was seated next to one of the Desperate Housewives. I have never watched the show and had no idea who she was until the flight attendant pointed it out to her that she was who she was. (She is the small hispanic looking chick from the show. I do not know her name or what the character's name is either). After the flight attendant pointed out who she was she got this look on her face that said, "I hope I don't get this all the way to Seattle". I kept my comments to small chit chat stuff basically referring to my book I was reading and the lump that was in my lap. I say I have never seen the show and now can say I will next year. She may have been the most beautiful woman I have ever seen up close. (That's other than Mrs. Pirate of course).

When I got back into the office late Friday night I had a note on my desk that they had been trying to get a hold of me all day and wanted me to stay up there and do another task for another client. I called the boss at his home after I read the note and he sounded three sheets to the wind and tried to get me to go back without going home. Sorry I needed to see the brood before I travel anymore this month. The boys had their Track dinner and awards night and my little girl had hit several good shots to the outfiled in her softball games when I was gone. These are events you never get back as a parent and I do not want to miss too much of thier growing up.