Nothing's Free

            I graduated high school and ended up spending the next four years traveling…okay so maybe it was more like living out of tents with a bunch of hippies in random spots over the nation…but either way it was traveling!   I have learned many of life’s most important lessons on the road.  You know the lessons your parents try like hell to drill into your head, but you just have to find out on your own, the hard way. 

            Well, I over hear…okay maybe I was eavesdropping… on this young girl, all of about 20, going on about this man who was “spoiling” her with gifts.  And he didn’t want anything in return!  Hahahaha….silly girl!  Didn’t you ever watch “Pretty Woman”? 

            I remember learning this lesson!

            It was bar closing time in Clearwater, Florida, 4 friends and I came up with the bright idea that a trip to the Keys would be fun.  So we hop in the car at 3 AM and drive to Key West.  Well of course we pull into Key West about 10 oclock the next morning with the worst hangover from hell and extremely cramped from shoving 5 people in a Toyota corolla  for 7 hours.  Once there, the five of us “free spirits” decide it’s a cool place and that we’re gonna get jobs and hang there for a while.  I would say it was about day 3 when I am standing out in front of our hotel late at night.  A guy walks by and I stop him to bum a cigarette.  We begin talking for a while and he invites me to Denny’s for some late night breakfast…on him!  I’m like Hellz to the Yeah!  So we walk across the street and enjoy a yummy meal …but this is where it began to go sour.  The waitress brings us our bill, and the douchebag tells me he has no money to pay for it.

            Huh…? Seriously loser?  So the waitress is pissed,,rightfully so.  I am embarrassed, and get up to go to the bathroom while they argue it out.  When I came out of the bathroom, I notice a table of 3 older gentlemen staring at me, and one stops me as I walk by.  He asks what was goin on over there.  Me being the blunt person that I am tells them with hostility about this Jackass I just met that invited me out for some grub and now has no money to pay…How Embarassing!  Well one of the complete strangers offers to pay the bill to end the problem…Nice guy that he was.  He pays the bill for us, then looks at Jackass and tells him to apologize to me, and get the hell outta there.  The guy does and leaves with his tail tucked between his legs.  The guy who paid the bill, who we will call “sugar daddy”, invites me to sit and chat with him and his friends, and feeling obligated that this guy just got me out of this situation, I take him up on it.

            As I sit at the table the guys start asking me about my plans in the keys, and of course being the nieve little girl I was, I just start telling them how my friends and I are just partying and livin’ day to day.  Well then sugar daddy says he owns a bunch of property/condos on the island and offers for me and my friends to stay at one of his furnished water front cottages!  HECK YEAH!!   Not because he has other intentions, only because he cares.  Ha!  Boy was I a fool.  I do what every normal 20 year old girl would do.  I took him up on it.  So I was living the life for a while.  Living in a kickass waterfront condo, and sugar daddy was taking me to all the fancy shmancy places through the keys, shopping sprees, hell he even took me snorkeling…but of course he didn’t want sex, he was just being nice! Double Ha!

            I had called back home and of course tell my parents what I am up to and they Freak out!

MOM-“What!  Jennifer Ann!  What the hell are you thinking”

            “You know he is just trying to take advantage of you so he can get something”

ME-“Oh mom,, hes just being nice….You know there are still nice people in the world”

MOM-“Jennifer, you’re gonna get yourself raped!”

ME-“oh mom, I’m fine, He’s just a nice guy that didn’t want to see me living out of a tent”

            Why didn’t I listen to my mom?  Oh that’s right because I was 20 years old and I knew Everything !  Well needless to say, mom was right.  It was about a week after that he called and asked if I wanted to come hang in the pool. I was like, sure!  So I get over to his place and went in.  I’m yelling for him “Sugar Daddy!...Sugar Daddy”  ( not really but it has a ring to it huh!)  Finaly I hear him yell from upstairs..”I’m up here!  Come on up!”  I get to the top of the steps and I see what looks like very hairy legs hanging out of a little French Maid outfit stretched across the bed. I round the corner to see “sugar daddy” laying on the bed in womens lingerie masturbating.  And he looks up at me and smiles and says “do you like what you see”….EWWWW!!! Not at all, It was the most disgusting sight of my life.  I was officially scarred!  I abruptly made a U-Turn and ran for the door.  He playfully chases after me asking me if wanted to have some “FUN” .... I’ll pass, would probably have more fun choking on my own vomit, but thanks anyways!

           I'm pretty sure that this is about the point where I began learning that maybe, just possibly, my parents actually knew more than me. 

Hangin' with Sam

            Today was an awkward day.  A good friend of mine Sam, passed away a few weeks ago. He was a refugee from Baghdad, Iraq.  He came to the United States in 1972, gaining his citizenship in 1976.  This man LOVED the U.S.A.  That’s right, for all of you bigots and racists, he was an Iraqi who absolutely loved the United States!!! Even though he was segregated against and belittled for his race, he stood strong to America.  Sam had dated my grandmother until she had passed away in 1987.  Even though she is gone, Sam has remained like a grandfather to my brother and I treating us no different than what a blood relative would.  Long story short, upon his death, I am notified by police that I am basically “next of kin” so it is up to me to plan a funeral.  Mind you Sam had no life insurance, no will, and no money.  So this has been quite an ordeal (I wont go into details)

            Well I finally get the call today that Sams ashes are ready (after a 3 week legal battle).  I think that 28 mile drive to the funeral home was the absolute

Longest Drive of my Life!!!  It’s amazing all of the thoughts that go through your head.  I was not hurting or sad.  It was more of a weird odd unexplainable fealing of the thought that Sam was about to be riding in the car with me.  Bitter sweet….

            I arrive at the funeral home which is a whole experience in itself.  I walk through the doors passing an older gentleman on his way out.  His face was hung low, puffy eyes, red cheeks, you could definatly tell the man was really hurting.  I couldn’t help but wonder “who is it he lost?  Wife…parent…child?  The funeral director who was leading the older gentleman out the door directed me to a waiting area.  Now as if it isn’t bad enough that you are obviously in the building due to the fact you have lost a loved one, they sit you in a waiting area full of these brochures, plaques, plots, urns, pretty much everything they can sell you for a funeral.  That’s not the bad part, the bad part is that pretty much every item was in the thousands of dollars $$$  How depressing can you get.  You have just lost a loved one and now you get to stare at these prettied up mounted objects broadcasting the outrageous cost of it all.  Thank you funeral home, for making the waiting area so comfortable for me.  Anywho the director comes out and takes me to a back chapel where Sams ashes sit up on an alter.  He looks at me and says “There he is, I thank you for doing business with us.”  That’s it?  How awkward!  So I pick Sam up and we head out the door.

            I put Sam in the car, and pull out to begin my 28 mile drive back home.  It was not even a mile down the road when I realized this was bad.  I have an urn in my car in the passenger seat, which is extremely top heavy, and nothing to put it in to stop it from rolling over!  So I do the first thing that pops in my head.  I pull over and strap him in the seatbelt….hey that’s what they’re for right, to secure the passenger (nobody said anything about being alive)!  Now that Sam’s securely fastened in, I hop back on the road.  

            “Hands at 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock” I tell myself.  Probably the most alert, safe driving I have ever done!

            My mind begins racing.  I actually speak out loud to Sam.  I wondered weather he could hear me? I wondered even more if he could see me?  Either way, I spoke and occasionally reached out and touched the urn.  I arrive home and carry him upstairs and placed him on a shelf in front of my window.  I do have plans to spread his ashes, but the spot where he wanted them spread will require an indepth covert plan to avoid getting caught.  So until the plans are set, in my window he will stay.  One thing I had not thought about was my son.

            Jake came home from school and looks right at the urn and says “Mommy, is that Grandpa Sam in there?”  !!! How does he know this?  What do I say?

            I am honest and tell him yes.  He giggles and begins to talk to Sam, pulling out his school pictures and holding them in front of the urn showing them to what was once his “grandfather”.  He looks at me and says “Mom at least now we have an angel living with us.”   Talk about CHILLS !  He then turned and went about his normal business, showing no signs of weirdness or uncomfort.  I must say, he was way more at ease with the situation than I was.

            The rest of the evening I have went about my normal business but can’t help but look up at Sam in my window every few minutes and think about him, and where he’s at? Is he watching?  I’m not much of a religious person, so my whole idea of the afterlife is a bit undetermined at this point.

            So I’m gonna spend my week with Sam, while my brother and I plan our covert mission on the spreading of the ashes.  Its been a sad day, yet a feeling of calmness that I have a new guardian angel.  It will definatly be a thought provoking week none the less.

   R.I.P.

Sam Georgesian

1/31/34 - 9/11/10

Vending Machines

          So I am standing at a pop machine (that translates to soda machine to all you southerners/west coasters) I pull out a dollar bill and put it in the machine.  Well apparently the vending machine gods decided my dollar bill was too wrinkled and spit the bill right back out.  So I do what every normal person would do….shove it back in there!  Once again the wear and tear proves too much for the vending machine to handle and the bill comes shooting back out.  That’s It…I’ll show this damn machine, I will take the bill and smooth it out. Oh yeah, I pulled out all the tricks, even the one where you grab each end of the bill then rub it back and forth over the corner of the machine smoothing each side, putting the bill three inches from my face to inspect that there is absolutely NO edge popping up.  This is it! This has got too work! 

            Yet to my dismay, just as irritating as nails on a chalkboard, I hear the buzz of my bill being spit back out.  I must breakdown and admit that I need a new crisp bill.  I look in my purse, no more one dollar bills, not enough change, and  the damn thing won’t take debit.  So I say screw it.  . 

            Why is this such a hard thing to do?  Why do we ALWAYS have to put that bill in the machine over and over, knowing damn well the bill just sucks and should really be used for nothing more than a strippers thong at this point…..(Anyone sensing any symbolism yet?)

            At that point I walked my lazy butt to my apartment to get a CRISP one dollar bill. (Which I could have walked back and forth about 20 times in the same amount of time I screwed with the crappy dollar!)  I walk to the machine, pop it in, and voila, out came my soda!   I was so happy, almost like I had defeated that stupid machine.  I walk back home, happily sipping my soda when I had an epiphany..(yes this story does have a point!) 

            Holy Shit!  My ex is the wrinkled bill and the machine is the relationship.  Stay with me here. I know this sounds like some stoner shit…but its sooo true.  I kept putting that wrinkled up bill(the ex) in the machine(relationship) over and over and over, expecting the pop machine to finaly work and give a damn soda(love…awww).  All I would have had to do is get a nice crisp bill (new and improved man) and the machine would have worked.  Seems so simple, huh? 

            From now on….I'll take quarters!

Where's the country of Lesbia ??

            So there are soooo many times I am asked by people about my childhood and what it was like growing up with a lesbian mom.  (OH SNAP….did she just say her mom is gay!) That’s right homophobes run for the door…haha.  I always share the same story when I am asked…

            I was about 6 or 7 years old and my mom and dad had just got a divorce.  My mom, brother, and I had all moved to a little apartment.  My mom had a “best friend” that was always around, but to me it seemed normal. Mom was having a sleepover…right?  Then came the night when she as one would put it “came out of the closet” to my brother and I.

          She and her “friend” sat us down and my mom began to tell us that her “friend” was moving in with us.  I remember my brother flipping out, mind you he’s a lil’ older than me and much smarter than me, so he TOTALLY understood what mom was trying to say…but not me?  My brother was shouting at my mom “No Mom, everyone is gonna say you’re a lesbian !!! “.....HUH ????

Why does he keep saying mom is from another country?  Where is this country called Lesbia?   I had heard of Canadian, Arabian, Mexican, but Lesbian…this one I did not understand.   I had this vision that my mom was now going to start wearing something wrapped around her head and start talking in another language.  It was all so very confusing to me!  I just sat there with a look of confusion on why my brother was so angry over mom having a friend stay the night.
 I thought it was cool.