This weekend I bought my wife an iPod. Not because I'm romantic. Not because I'm a nice guy. There was no special day we're celebrating that called for a gift. I did it because after 15 years, I just need my own "stuff!" That's what I told her anyway.

Shari would find my real reason hysterical. I simply won't tell her because I don't want her to judge me. She would laugh and then proceed to call me an idiot for my reasoning. We have shared an iPod since their inception. We both like a lot of the same music, so there's never really been an issue. That is until she went back to her Disco roots. She's really too young to be into that scene. I think it reminds her of her early teens and the vision of the dirty girl she really wanted to be. You gotta love a woman with goals.

We were gone last weekend for a little trip to Austin. I woke up early and drug my ass to the hotel gym. It's a small gym, but they try to make the most of it by having every wall mirrored. Right when I walk in, I can see the reflection of one dude. It actually looked like fifty dudes, but after further review, just one dude. An interesting looking dude at that. He was kind of short, very fit and his workout shorts were way too small and he seemed all too happy to have another man in the gym. If you still don't get it, he was flaming. No big deal. It was just something I noticed.

When I workout I like to put the iPod in "Shuffle Songs" mode. I find that it keeps be from getting bored. So I cranked up the volume and got busy. Every once in a while I can see the guy looking at me. Not in a dirty way. I think the guy just wanted to talk or at least acknowledge that we're two dudes in a small mirrored room. Make that two sweaty dudes ... in a small mirrored room. So I cranked up the volume as loud as it could go, focusing even more on my workout. Just then the gentleman made his move. The move of friendship. He nodded a couple of times then decided to make verbal contact. When he spoke, I had to take the earbuds out to hear his pleasantries. My song (AC/DC's Sin City) was just coming to an end and it was so loud that the guys eyes looked directly at the headphones. "Nice gym." Was all he could say before my next song kicked in. I said "It's kind of small. But it will do." just as my wife's playlist kicked in ... the Village People's Y.M.C.A. I tried to grab the earbuds with one hand as fast as I could. I held them so tight that fully expected a diamond to be in the palm of my hand by the time I let go. It was too late. He heard the song. However, the dude was really cool. My reaction to the song alone told him of my sexual preference. He could have made me feel more uncomfortable or taken offense, but he didn't. He was simply a classy, cool guy.

Later that night as Shari and I were in the bar waiting for our table, I noticed he and his partner doing the same. I sent over a couple of drinks to the guys.  Shari asked "Who is that?" I replied, "That's Steve.  I worked out with him today."

I'm infamous for saying the wrong thing to my wife. When we first started dating, I looked deep into her eyes and said, "You're the best looking woman I've ever seen in person."  Shari let the comment go by, but I could tell she was thinking about it by the look on her face. When the relationship progressed to the bedroom I did it again. After a particularly energetic roll in the hey, I mumbled (what I thought was inaudible) "You should get paid for that." To where Shari said a real quick "What?" One of my gifts is being able to think on my feet quickly. So I put my ad lib skills to work. "I didn't say anything." She really must like me because she let that one slide too. When I decided she was the girl for me I bought the ring. I kept it in my pocket until the RIGHT moment. I knew the love would overwhelm me, and the heavens would part and that it would be the most beautiful moment ever. So there we were, in my Nissan Pulsar next to a dumpster in her apartment complex. "This is really hard for me to say, but you're the only woman I've ever wanted to hang out with during the day." I explained with my eyes beginning  to well. Guys know that this is a huge compliment, but I guess you chicks don't. But I forged ahead, took a deep breath and popped the question. "Will you marry me?" I didn't elaborate. "Yes!" she said with a deep sigh. I know it wasn't the best proposal in the world. But it was 100% honest. I also know Shari wasn't blown away. To my knowledge, she has never retold that magical moment to any of her friends.

I keep putting my foot in my mouth. Here it is fifteen years later and the innocent insults keep on coming. We were recently at Target getting Shari's birth control. $332.00! In all the years I don't recall ever picking up her birth control with her, so I was blown away by the cost. Because I'm so thoughtful, I waited to comment on the price until we reached the door. "332 bucks? Is that normal?" "Yes." she said with a tone that said I'm a total dumbshit. "I guess I better get my moneys worth and cum inside you more." I said to challenge her dumbshit tone. She didn't say anything about my comment, but I think I caught her smiling a little. "I know how we can save some money." I continued. "Instead of the expensive birth control pills, why don't I just go back in there and get some shop towels for 99 cents?"

The faint smile must have been in my imagination. Because she didn't say anything else on the way home.

I'm the youngest in my family. If you're keeping score at home, the line-up is Jackson, Mick, Shannon and then me. My siblings are quit a bit older. My brothers are in their sixties and my sister is a year away from joining that club. I showed up about 15 years after my sister. I guess Mom got really drunk.

I just got off the phone with my oldest brother Jackson. He and Mick are very close. They are both Vietnam veterans. I look up to these guys and love them with all my heart, but we are SO different. Growing up in the 60's and serving in Nam, they both know their way around a Joint. I don't even think they own a pair of long pants and forget about shoes, flip flops only dude. We are all 100% Californian.

Anyway, back to todays phone call. When I talk to one family member, I usually find out how the others are holding up in that one conversation. Here's what Jackson laid on me today.

"Have you talked to Mick lately?" I asked. "I spoke to him the other day." He said. I had to prod a little more. "Well. How is he?" Jackson took a long breath, followed by a long pause "He's smoking a lot. He's eating like shit. He can't sleep and his teeth are rotting. He must be doing well though ... because he asked me to go online and get him some Viagra."

I've attached a picture of my two heros! Take about 3 months ago.

I love my wife very much. We've been together well before any amount of success rolled my way. In fact, she gets a ton of credit for it. You see, I need a woman who will let me act like I'm nine years old. I need someone to listen to my outrageous goals and dreams, only to pat me on the head and walk out of the room. I need someone to inspire me while I play Call Of Duty 4. My girl is all of these things. However, there is ONE problem  .... she's white.

Shari understands that I spend most of my day fantasizing. Sometimes it's about where I want my career to take me. Other times It's about really effecting the universe is a positive manner. But when the planets align, it shifts to the women of South America. Sure their smoking hot, but I think my wife is too. I've thought long and hard about this, and I think I now know why. Linguistics.

I think about Sonata walking into the bedroom, with her olive skin, wearing those nasty, white high heels. She leans forward and whispers in my ear "I know we'll always be together, because we deceive each other." I softly correct her, "You mean deserve each other." Then she tenderly repeats the quick english  lesson, "Jess, we deesurve each other." As we both fall back on the bed, my exotic lady looks out the window into the starry night and say's out loud, but to herself, "I get so sleepy when the clowns come in." Oh Sonata, you mean when the clouds come in." I reply.

Then the fantasy stops right there. I can't get past that point and as a dude, it's really frustrating. I guess the lesson is that I do need someone I understand and most of all, someone who understands me. I realize that I'm really lucky to have that. Guess what I got Shari for Valentines Day? A membership to a tanning booth.

I'm intrigued by Hookers. I've come to learn quite a bit about the profession from our friend Bunny Love. There's an actual mathematical equation that belongs to "the oldest profession,"  and I've cracked it . So without further fanfare, here it is. Forty bucks equals head. Now it's all up to the hooker on what you get for the amount of money, but that's basically it.

I have had my own experience with a hooker. It was one on the strangest nights of my life. It all started with my two friends. I'll call them Rick and Bob because that's their real names. I looked up to these guys, so I was just happy to be hanging out with them. They were both around the same age, which was 6 years older than me. Rick was the guy all the other dudes wanted to be. He was great looking, fit and had a killer job. Bob on the other hand, was a world class body builder and not the best looking guy in the world. That, and he was 4'12". This guy was a fireplug, a bowling ball, a muscle with feet, you get the picture. But Bob had a problem. Once he had a few drinks, he was a was a complete, reckless, asshole. You always knew that when he got his drink on, something bad was going to happen.

That summer night I realized why these two cool guys wanted to hang out with me. They needed a ride.   Rick worked for a really popular radio station in Los Angeles and they we're having a huge event. So I borrowed my mother's maroon Chevrolet Monza wagon and in thirty minutes we were on the Sunset Strip baby! There are a couple of things I remember about the radio station party. One, there was a ton of free booze. The other, this was the first time I ever got to see real live tits. I couldn't believe it. All I could see were tits and high heels. Rick and Bob didn't know that I had never seen real live topless women before, so I had to play it really cool. I was so scared that it wasn't even sexy. Every time a topless women would walk by me I got dizzy. Physically dizzy. I knew I was the only guy there feeling this way. It was cool, but to this day, I wish I would have handled the situation better. Rick was just standing there, drinking a beer and looking good. He was totally unaffected by the babes. Rick and I both wish that we could say the same for Bob.

Here's where the hooker part comes in. While the hot, topless chicks just made me dizzy, they had a much different effect on Bob. He wanted to rape somebody. I was hoping that he had a woman in mind because he could easily over power me. I would have hated for my first time of seeing a naked chick to also be my first night of being corn holed by man. So I was really happy to hear Rick say "Bob, I think we need to get you a hooker!"  So we pile into the Monza. I was driving, Rick riding shotgun and Bob in the back yelling "I need pussy!"  It seemed like we were in the car for three seconds before Rick spotted the prostitute. Rick told me to pull the car over, which I gladly did. She was the perfect stereotype. She had on the hooker uniform of nasty high heels and really short shorts. Rick rolls down the passenger window and without hesitation says "My buddy in the back wants head. How much?" The way Rick said it made me think that he's done this before. His confidence made me feel better though. I wasn't thinking that this could be a cop, or that we might get killed. I actually kind of liked Sunshine. I found her name ironic though, because she was as black as the night. But I liked her. She was really cool. "How much money do you have?" Rick yelled into the back seat. "20 bucks." replied drunk ass Bob. "Get out the car babies! You, muscleman.....get ya ass up front." Sunshine said like a pro. Bob, drunk and still yelling, "I need pussy" somehow made it into the driver seat of my mom's car.

"Where do we go?" I asked Rick, as he was already walking across the street. "Just over here. I want to make sure he doesn't get ripped off." We were standing only 20 feet away when Rick decides to the play-by-play in his amazing radio voice. "Bob's pants are down. He's getting hard. Sunshine gets out of the car." "That's it?" I ask. "It's over." Rick sadly says. I looked just past the back of my mom's car and saw Sunshine wiping her chin. It took me a few more years to know why.

As we approached the car, Bob was literally passed out. For the first time this evening, I see Rick start to panic. "We have to put Bob in the back!" Rick yelled and continued to say, "I'll get on the other side and help!" As I open the car door, on Sunset Blvd, in traffic, there's a naked dude sitting in MY chair. Rick started to go into crisis mode, barking out orders, "Let's pull is pants up." as Rick bends down to help, he accidently nails his eye on the corner of the rear view mirror. "Oh geeze. Oh geeze." He exclaims. I though Rick was really hurt. It turns out that he's just worried about his good looks. "Quit primping yourself you fuck!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I had never spoken to him this way, so he did everything he could to get Bob back where he belonged.

For the first ten minutes we drove in silence. Finally, from the back of the car, we hear a mumbled, "Thanks guys." We all started to laugh and right then, I felt like one of the dudes. I also found out that Bob only had 16 bucks and that Sunshine was just a whore.