But Ended with a Fun Story to Share.
Okay this is officially my first blog. I don't really know if it belongs in the 'humor' section but at least I thought it was funny. If it should be in another section, sorry about that.
Yesterday I went and got my haircut. I needed a haircut desperately too, considering I looked like a combination of Cousin Itt and Don King. I went to the place where I got my haircut last. Not because I recently moved here so I don't know of any other place. But because after my last haircut the woman who cut my hair said afterwards I looked like a "stud". Yes, I'm a sucker for flattery, even if she happened to say it to get my business again.
After parking my car in the too-crowded parking lot of the shopping plaza I tucked my wild 'do under my baseball cap and proceeded to walk what seemed like a mile-long journey in this blazing heat to the Supercut place. Sweating already from the drive the walk made things worst and now I couldn't wait to get into the air-conditioned building for some much appreciated coolness and of course hopefully some more flattery thrown my way.
Just as I was about 10 feet from what seemed now like paradise a passerby asked me if I knew where Dyer Street was, well being new here I told him I was sorry but that I had no idea. That didn't stop him he asked me again so again I told him I didn't know. Having been lost before I know how frustrating it can be to asked someone for directions and they're as clueless as you. Unfortunately for him he ran into King Clueless because I had no idea where the street he was looking for was located. But again he wasn't going to let that stop him, he asked me yet again. Now I was at a loss for words so I looked at him and then looked around for someone anyone to not only help him but to help ME.
Again he asked me if I knew where Dyer Street was, he definitely was persistent. Again I looked around for someone. Seeing my confused face must've somehow convinced him that my cluelessness was based on the fact I didn't understand English. So this time when he asked his now all too-familiar question it was in Spanish. I don't even have words to described the confusion my face conveyed. But things only got worse. He took my look to mean I couldn't hear him so now he was screaming his question in Spanish.
Well I must've unintentionally made a face that can only be described as not fit for public viewing. He took a step back so I thought somebody had finally seen our erxchanges and was thankfully coming to help. I turned around to look and at the same time I took off my ball cap to wipe the sweat from my brow. There was no one so I turned to face him. He now was looking at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look. I told him again I was sorry but I did not know where Dyer Street was but he wasn't paying attention to none of that, it was he now that was looking around for someone anyone. Maybe with my confused look and crazy hair he thought I escaped from some mental institute. He then walked away briskly muttering something in Spanish, which I later translated as "crazy idiot".
All this reminded me of something that happened to me a week or so before I moved.
I was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. People were outside enjoying a early summer-like day and where was I on this perfect day. Laided out on the couch in a deep sleep. Just dreaming away, all comfortable with my fan blowing on me and saliva all over one side of my face.
At my house I had 2 doorbells. One on the front door and one on the porch door. 99% of people use the front door doorbell, a nice musical doorbell. People rarely use the other doorbell. This one sounded like an alarm at a fire station. Which why I put a sign on it telling people that it didn't work and to use the front door one.
Well a person came to my house and you can guess what doorbell he used. So imagine me on the couch dreaming away. One of those sleeps that feel oh so good. When suddenly RING-RING-RING-RING-RING-RING-RING. I jump up stunned, not knowing for a second where the hell I am or why my face is filled with spit. RING-RING-RING-RING-RING. Still stunned I wipe my face, sit on the couch looking for my shirt wanting so bad to just lay back down and fall back to sleep. RING-RING-RING-RING-RING. I yell, " I'm coming!!!! Hold your horses!!!" Thinking to myself I say, " It better not be the Jehovah Witness again."
I staggered towards the door and I looked out and didn't see nobody. So I opened the door and walked, no, more like stumbled out on the porch. There at the porch door was Big Al. Big Al is the brother of my aunt's ex-husband. Let me describe Big Al for you. He's in his 50s and he's a total barfly. Big Al is big. He's about 6'5" and is very wide. To me he has always been an okay guy though his family hates that he acts like a character from a frat movie. His speech pattern is funny at times because this very big and very tough guy talks as if he is complaining and whining all the time. No matter what the last word is, he will dragged it out.
When I see Big Al at the door I'm thinking to myself, "what the hell? why is he here?" and "what does he WANT?" So I motioned him to come in. I asked him, "What's up?"
He's his usual nervous mess and screamed, "Where's Debbieeee?"
I don't even have time to even barely comprehend what he just said when he screamed again, "Where's Debbieee? Debbie, man! Where's Debbieeeeee?"
Still in my zombie-like daze I yelled back, " Who in the hell is Debbie?"
"Debbieee! My daughter! Come on, man! Debbieeee!"
"Al, I didn't know you had a daughter!"
"But you gotta know Debbie! She lives right next to you! Debbieee! Debbieeeee!"
"Al, I don't know no Debbie."
"But she lives right next to you! Debbieee!"
"Sorry, Al, but I don't know her."
"I know she told me the address it's either 756 or 766!"
My address is 762. I tell him, "Are you sure, Al? I don't know any neighbors named Debbie."
"Yes!! Debbie lives around here! 756 or 766!"
Now I'm smiling and while lightly chuckling I say, " Al, are you sure?"
He looks at me seriously and says, "I know for a fact it's 756 or 766. I'll bet you $100 it's 756 or 766."
Feeling sorry for him I ask him if he has her phone number. He says yes so I go inside and grab my cellphone. When I come back out Big Al is now sitting on the sofa on the porch looking down mumbling to himself over and over, "It's 756 or 766." I give him the phone and he calls. He now stands and starts to get excited again in the same frantic pace as earlier. He can't even stand still. He paces back and forth and even when he stops he swinging from one foot to the other as if he needs to use the bathroom real bad. Soon as the person on the other line answered Big Al was ready.
"Where's Debbie? Debbie! Where is she? Debbieee!"
Now I was laughing. Big Al kept going though.
"Is it 756 or 766? I know it's 756 or 766!!! Which is it? 756 or 766?"
Big Al then got real quiet. Just nodding his head up and down.
Then softly said, "uh huh ... umm... uh huh... okay thanks. Okay . okay I said ! alright already !! BYE!!!!"
Then he hands me the phone. Well now I'm curious as can be.
So I asked Big Al, "Well? Which is it? 756 or 766?"
He looks at me for a second then softly says, " It's 1432"
I just burst out laughing. I wasn't even mad anymore over being awaken. If you knew Big Al you wouldn't have expected anything less. As he left I yelled out , "What about my $100?"
BTW ... while writing this a Jehovah Witness came to my door. True story. Hope they didn't follow me from my old hometown. It would have funnier if it was Big Al. And definitely more FUN if it was that beautician looking for her "stud". 
Finally I'm done rambling. Sorry if it's too long and/or too boring maybe I should have split it in two parts. Thanks to everyone who made the whole way.
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