Technology Is The Best Evidence

It's when I'm standing in Safeway that my laughter threatened to Tsunami forward like some unwanted atavistic fashion. Like big hair and pastels from the 80's. I concentrated on the nutritional profile of the specialty eggs. Specialty egg meaning that the hens are vegetarian fed and cage-free. If you ever read Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation, that's going to become important to you. Twenty-five percent daily value of Vitamin E. I realized I was smirking to myself and tried to stop. I licked my lips and pushed air from my mouth as if suddenly overwhelmed. 185 mcg of Lutein per egg. Lutein? Have to look that up when I get home. I snickered. Fucking Randy. Seriously, I didn't want to launch myself headlong into a laughing fit in the dairy section at 7 in the morning. That'll get you a free ride to the happy house. 100 mg of Omega-3 polyunsaturated fatty acids per egg. Okay, I recognize that one. Some Chuck--nondescript guy-- cloyingly middle management in his pleated khakis and faded, wrinkled polo shirt, and Super Cuts haircut reached over and grabbed an 18 count of conventional eggs. He looked at me as though I was holding up progress. I shrugged as if to say, "Sorry, I'm just not in any hurry to get to work, plop down in my cubicle and romance my boss's ass for the next 8 hours, Chuck." He faded away, and I mused about the contents of his eggs. That held off the laughter for a bit.

I swear to fuck. Why is it that no matter where you park, a SUV will park next to you and block your view when backing out? I parked toward the back of the parking lot, away from everyone, and now I'm flanked by a F250 and a Yukon. Piss and shit. I approached my car and glanced up to see Chuck adjusting the rear view mirror in his F250. He looked over. I nodded and smiled. Simon says, "Fuck you." He waved as if to say I will be out of your way in a second. I nodded and smiled again. Simon says, "Fuck you, twice."I hoped he needed gas, fucker.

I eased out around the remaining Yukon, and pulled out of the parking lot. I started thinking about Randy's phone call and lost it.

Caller ID says Randy is rattling my cage. "What's the deal, " I answered chuckling.

"Wait, wait," he gasps as he tries to catch his breath. I wait wondering how good this gets. He calms himself, and then busts up all over again. What the fuck. I'm the expectant parent.

Finally, "Dude, you're not going to believe this shit," Randy says.

"I bet I will." He starts laughing again. I'm the expectant parent again.

"Okay, bro," he starts, "I went to that 7/11 up the street from The Pub."

"Right." Wondering why he didn't go to Kabredlo's, about a block away.

"Well, I sneak in through the back way of the bar. Thinking I would sit in the back of the parking lot and watch from a distance and tag along."

"Right, right," thinking Randy missed his calling. He's a lawyer, but he might be a better PI. Or stalker. I shook that out of head.

"Well, they were already pulling out, heading in the opposite direction. "

I jumped in, "How do you know they were both in there? Kevin has dark tint on his windows."

"He had them down."

"He's slipping."

"He was drunk, dude. Anyway, I follow them about five miles, like I'm a fucking stalker or some shit. They pull up to this sweet ass house!" He pauses for effect.

"Where?"

"Almost out of Boulder, heading east." Posh area. "Fuck that, though. I sit in my car down the street, have a smoke or two. About 20 minutes."

"Okay."

"Then I head up the street on foot. They are in a house at the top of the hill."

"Wait a minute. You went up to the house? What the fuck did you do that for?" I asked.

"Just listen. So I get up to the house, and walk to the side and see what I can see." He laughs. I'm thinking Randy needs help, but so far I'm laughing right along with him. This is awesome. We've got Kevin dead to rights. Then Randy says, "I get to the side of the house and look in through this basement, or lower-level, window and there they are! In all their glory!" He dies laughing, as do I.

"They're fucking, dude?!" I ask, catching my breath.

"Hell, yeah!!They must've got straight to the shit because he's behind her slapping her ass and shit like he's Big Stroke Pimp. Dude, I swear to God she has more dimples on her ass than a golf ball. More craters than the fucking moon. It was disgusting! Her fucking tits are swaying back and forth like who the fuck knows what!! Oh my God, it was so nasty!!" He dies laughing. I had this picture in my head of Kevin hammering this heifer's hangar. Words like hurling, and nauseating are important here. I chuckled a bit, choking back the imagery.

Randy, "Dude, I'm going to Email it to you."

I'm confused, "Email me what?!"

"You know I bought that new phone, right?"

He bought a cell phone that has some video capability on it, "Yeah, but tell me you weren't standing outside of someone's house, peering through the window and video taping Kevin and some fat chick having sex."

"You know it, motherfucker!!" More laughter.

This does have rare entertainment value, but I don't think I need to see this. I'd rather see a "What's grosser then gross" joke come to life, but more importantly, "Randy, think about this for a minute. You stalked two people. You peeped through a window while they're engaged in a little horizontal aerobics, you vidoe taped it, and now you're going to Email it out to your friends?"

"That's right!" Then, silence. Then, "Considering I'm a lawyer, that wasn't the wisest thing in the world to do."

"Not at all, "I started, then, "Just don't Email it to anyone. It looks like you got away with one, with your drunk ass." I started laughing.

"Fuck, you. That shit's funny."

"Oh, that shit's hilarious. Don't erase it! You know Kevin is going to make some attempt at denial!" We giggled like two school girls. Got him.