Precious Metals
I had a friend in college who always seemed to have money but he never worked. Naturally, I assumed he was suckled at the tit of his parent’s pocket book. When I asked him about this, he vehemently denied it. “Sure my parents send me a little something every now and then but it’s nothing really – hardly anything. They’re old and believe it’s still possible to live on fifty dollars a week. How do they expect me to get the ladies attention with the same clothes I wore in high school?”
Looking at him again, it was impossible not to notice the suede jacket and name brand “distressed” jeans. The outfit wasn’t threatening me…we apparently were angling to attract a different type of female …but it was expensive.
“Um, there’s no way you can afford these clothes. How can you afford to go out each week, date, buy new clothes, and all that without a job? Are you collecting plastic then running them up to their limits?”
He laughed. “Nope, do you know where that Arab guys play soccer? It’s a field about a mile down the road. A whole bunch of them play on Saturdays and Sundays.”
Was he changing the subject? “So…”
“Well, those guys wear their gold jewelry all the time…even when they’re playing soccer! I just go out there with my metal detector every other week and I usually come back with almost a sandwich bag of gold goodies. Of course, you need to keep this on the down-low because if you ruin my racket , I’ll hire a hit man to take you out.”
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On long road trips, Melissa likes to fill up the car and acquire a cup of expensive, goofy flavored coffee. I don’t have any love for that stuff – in fact I like to call the place SuckerBucks. Melissa does more than her share of the driving so I usually don’t complain.
We’re slicing through the drive-through trying our best to make it to the Interstate in quick fashion. Melissa gets a low-fat, mocha, latte, chocolate, hokey-pokey, grande coffee. The lady running the window hands over the coffee and with it we received a small circular magnet that has, “Got Beans?” cleverly spelled out above a coffee bean.
I take the magnet and begin auditioning places in the car to stick it. The dashboard? Nope…plastic. Center council? Nix…more plastic. Roof? Door? Floor?! There was no place in the inside of the car to place that magnet. I really wasn’t sure what to make of it…was I incredulous or just surprised?
“Hey Melissa, do you realize that there is absolutely nothing of metal on the inside of our SUV? These things are supposed to be ruff, rugged off road machines and the inside is nothing but plastic! Are you ok with that?”
She gave me a patient look. “Why don’t you turn on the radio?”
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