The weekend girls have left me alone to entertain myself for the second weekend in a row. Though they tell me this is because they have other plans in other states, I think it has more to do with sore feet.
The weekend girls would like you to know a few things.
First, I get lost. I remind them often that you aren't lost until you run out of gas, but they have yet to buy this argument. They are especially not persuaded when we are lost on foot. This leads us to the second point, always wear comfortable shoes because I like to walk. And finally, I'm inconsiderate. I haven't worn high heels since a brief dalliance with cross dressing as a small boy. Wait, wait...before you judge let me explain that I was hanging out with my cousins Heather and Kim and grandma had a shed full of old clothes and this is how we kept entertained in the TV-less realm of grandma's home. I particularly liked the wicker purse with the black wig. Yeah, yeah...I know you are judging and that's fine - we all have our moments. Anyway, I sometimes neglect to observe that Joanne is in heels as I take wrong turns all over Hollywood looking for a movie theater that isn't even playing the movie we want to see. So sue me!
As retribution for this act, the following weekend I was forced to pick up two hookers. Judging again, aren't you?! Okay, here's the story.
Following the Sunday matinee performance of Dirty Dancing at the Pantages, we decided to eat at Pig and Whistle (an iconic eating establishment, so I'm told). My memory was that Pig and Whistle was a few blocks down Hollywood Boulevard. The girls were skeptical. Before heading down the street we negotiated a deal in which I would return and get the vehicle to pick them up if it was more than 4 blocks to the restaurant.
I figured that in 4 blocks we'd at least be able to see the place and, in fact, I could. It was only the neon stripe under the word Whistle, but I could see it - two more blocks! This did not matter. I sulked my way back to the truck with repetitive consideration of just leaving the weekend girls behind. Instead I cruised back down Hollywood Boulevard with the windows down.
I am told that Joanne conceived of the plan, but it took Camille to carry it out. The girls were sitting on the bus stop bench as I pulled up to the curb. Camille leaned into the window and offered me a two for one deal on her "services". I scanned for cops in the vicinity in case I had to explain myself and caught a glimpse of too old men at the bus stop who did not think this was a joke. It may have had something to do with the girls talking about "Two Hoes Pimping" while awaiting their ride.
"Two Hoes Pimping" is the outgrowth of Camille's backup retirement plan of being an old hooker. I'm working on the logo design.
Anyway, I think the point here is that we have all suffered enough and could use a few weekends apart.