Had a 2:00 appointment with a physical therapist.
1 spray of TUTH 5mcg - throat
2 sprays of IJ - 1 to each side of the neck
3 sprays of P93 (2.5 mcgs per spray) - top of hands
3 sprays of CTTM2 - Head face
Daughter messed up the reminder phone call … told me the message said 2:30. Being 15 minutes late, get’s your appointment canceled. I step in at 2:25, and the receptionist says, “ANYTHING PAST 15 MINUTES, IS LATE, AND YOUR APPOINTMENT IS CANCELED. I’LL LET HER KNOW YOU’RE HERE, AND SEE IF SHE’LL STILL SEE YOU.”
I say, “WELL, IF SHE DOESN’T WANT TO SEE ME, CAN YOU ASK IF I CAN STILL GET A WALKING CANE? I REALLY NEED ONE.”
She calls me back up, and tells me the therapist will be out to talk to me.
“M to the M,” I hear. It’s my therapist … Caucasian, heavy set, manly-looking, (I wouldn’t do her, and I wouldn’t let any of you do her, either! LOL), and you can see the attitude on her face. Was it from me being late, or was she having a bad day? I have no idea.
I walk over, and she says, “COME WITH ME.” No smile, or anything pleasant. We walk into her office, and I go into apologizing mode, “I’M SO VERY SORRY. MY 16 YEAR OLD, TOLD ME THE PHONE MESSAGE SAID MY APPOINTMENT WAS AT 2:30.” I EVEN STOPPED TO EAT, BECAUSE OF IT, AND DIDN’T THINK TO DOUBLE CHECK."
After about 5 more apologies, she started smiling, and talking, and said, **“IT’S OKAY. I CAN GIVE YOU YOUR CANE, AND I’LL GO AND MARK IT AS YOUR VISIT, SO YOU CAN GET TRAVEL PAY; AND I’LL RESCHEDULE YOU ANOTHER APPOINTMENT.”
“OH, MY! I’D SURE APPRECIATE IT, AND I WILL DOUBLE CHECK THE NEXT TIME,”** I say.
Get my cane, sign for travel pay, and off I go! HOOCHIE MOMMA! 
On the way home, I stop at a restaurant. At the entrance, I meet these two ladies … chocolate coated, one older maybe early 60s, the other … late 40s, early 50s, with a set of one of those large round mounds of flesh of a rear end, of toilet grippers! Woooooooof! 
Me like! (It’s a fantasy of mine … BBW … nicely shaped.)
We stop to be waited, the elder speaks to me, so I let loose, “I wonder if they have specials for the old and hairless? (me)” She looks at me, and says, “YOU EVER GOT THE LUNCH SPECIAL HERE?” “NEVER HEARD OF IT,” I say, trying to get some eye contact from the other. Finally she turns to look at me, and my eyes are piercing her rear! Yes, I wanted her to see me looking. 
I look up into her eyes and say, “I love this place.” She smiles, and they get seated.
I get seated, and I’m about 10 feet away from them. While I’m waiting, I’m looking, mentally daring her to make eye contact. BINGO! Three looks, and the adjustment of clothing starts! Pulling down her sweater, which pocks out her chest! I counted three adjustments. The pumping of the straw … up and down into her tea. I could SMELL the nervousness on her part. Now, to see if it’s a good nervousness, or a bad nervousness. More peeping, in which I’m licking my lips each time she looked.
BINGO!!!
“YOU CAN COME AND JOIN US IF YOU WANT?”
“IS IT SAFE?” They laugh out. “IF YOU REALLY DON’T MIND, LET ME SEE IF MY WAITER WOULD GET PISSED, IF I MOVED.” More laughing, but I was serious. I get the OKAY.
I go over, take a seat, introduce myself, and the show begins! She’s nervous, you can hear it in her voice, and then the PLAY WITH HER NECKLACE started. She missed her mouth, and BOOYOW! Clam chowder is spilled in the center of her boobs … looking like a seagull on steroids had hit its mark!
I rub up and down, from her shoulder to bicep, while saying, “GEEZUS! SHOULD I MOVE BACK TO MY TABLE? YOU’RE AWFULLY NERVOUS OVER HERE!”
Laughing, “NO MAN MAKES ME NERVOUS!”
“THAT’S WHAT MOST WOULD SAY, BUT YOU JUST MISSED YOUR MOUTH, AND THERE’S NO GUNS GOING OFF!”
She hits me, and starts stuttering. I say, “SEE! YOU ARE NERVOUS! MISSED YOUR MOUTH, AND NOW YOU’RE STUTTERING!”
Her friend jumps in, “HE’S GOT YOU PEGGED! YOU ARE STUTTERING.” Everybody’s laughing.
Chitty chat! Chitty chat! Chitty chat!
I order some desert, and she gets bold, “HE’S ORDERING THAT, 'CAUSE I’M NOT ON THE MENU.”
“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING … YOU’RE SWEET? DON’T MAKE ME PULL OUT MY KNIFE AND FORK, AND FIND OUT YOU’RE PULLING MY LEG!”
Her friend says, “I LIKE THE WAY HE’S TALKING.”
We’re laughing and talking; and before we depart, my name and number’s in her phone. She says she’s old school, which means she doesn’t call men. I say, “WE’LL YOU HAVE MY NUMBER … YOU CAN STAY OLD SCHOOL, AND NOT USE IT, OR YOU CAN JUMP UP SOME YEARS TO 2011, AND CALL IT. IT’S UP TO YOU.”
Was it the mix? I don’t know, but I’m wearing it again!!!
To be continued …
