The dood – almost better than Jesus
When you have a good dog, and a good vibrator, is there any need to date in LA? Today I came to my senses and decided, ah, no thank you.
On Thursday night I was coaxed out of my canine enclave to see a 70’s-style punk band. When they opened with “I’m not your stepping stone” and closed with a Ramones song, I was happy I got out. Fat Tire on draft and I got a little pogoing in.
My girlfriend and I decided to hit the Rainbow Room on our way home. The last time I was there, I saw Lemmy from Motorhead (but I think he lives behind the bar). It’s a total rocker bar. If I were younger and dug guys that weighed less than me, I’d be in business. But it’s fun to see the leather and the Alice Cooper eyeliner and think, “see you in the corporate monkeyspank soup line in five years, novice.”
But my stance on musicians didn’t stop me from immediately noticing a Fabio longhair-type at the end of the patio wearing a white wife-beater.
“Hello 12 o’clock,” I said to my girlfriend after I had made the mandatory five-second hello-I’m-available-eye-contact.
I turned and she said, “Oh, he’s checking your ass out,”
Five minutes later, he passed us going to the bathroom and said hello to me. “That was a direct hit, right? I suck at this flirting shit,” I admitted to my girlfriend.
Not too long after that, Fabio and Friend sat down with us. I had a nice time talking and listening to the panty-melting south american accent. We know how the latins like me… Marnasita with the galaxy-sized hips and infectious laugh. Fabio was petite, but attractive and, more importantly, a great kisser.
I relinquished my phone number with the promise of a date in the near future. We chatted a couple times Friday when I discovered he worked part-time and he didn’t have a car. He requested I pick him up Saturday night for our date and we’d do something mellow.
On Saturday, after a spending Friday night with Tex barfing up his hip dysplasia meds, I decided Fabio wasn’t worth a commute. I’ve done underemployed musicians before.
I called and canceled the date. Afterwards, Tex approached me with his sad eyes and I told him he was still my main man. Later than evening I took him around the block for his mark-all-things-vertical walk. In our short spin, two people approached me and asked me if he was an American Bulldog and told me what a good-looking dog he was.
Yeah, I know, he’s hot. He’s the dood I stayed in for.