WANNA FIGHT ABOUT IT? 

As I was leaving the casino early Wednesday morning, I stumbled upon a confrontation. The doors to the elevator opened on the fifth floor to show me two guys and a gal about one-fourth the way up the incline. Uh-oh, I thought. 

I realized quickly that the two men were fighting over the girl. If they weren't in a casino parking lot, I would have thought they were in high school. The girl didn't look a day over 16. Maybe they were teenagers, and they ran away from home to fight in a location their parents wouldn't suspect. Ah, the perfect crime. 

The girl was in the process of trying to separate them in order to prevent things from getting out of hand. I stood there frozen. I had no clue what to do. Help her break it up? Run? Ignore them and go to my car without making eye contact? Referee? 

Guy No. 1: Jackie, you can't save his little ass now. I'm going to beat the shit out of the piece of shit. 

Guy No. 2: Fuck you, Matt. I'm ...

Jackie: Both of you. Just stop. Please. Not here. 

Matt: This motherfucker started it. And now I'm going to finish it. 

That's when the three of them collectively turned toward the elevator where I was still frozen inside the elevator. I was blocking the door from closing and silently observing. 

Guy No. 2: What the fuck you looking at, man? 

(I take a step back and hit the button for the first floor on the elevator.)

As the door is closing, Jackie yells at me: That's right, you pervert. Get out of here. 

I waited about 15 minutes on the first floor and went up the stairs. When I got to the fifth floor, I peaked around the corner like a good cop surveying the scene. The coast was clear. Whew. I went home. 

So, many questions remain. Did they fight? Who won the fight? Was she dating one of them? Both of them? Does she now have to choose? And if so which one does she pick? What was the other guy's name? What I wouldn't give for that surveillance tape. 

I'm telling you, I'd make a heck of a referee. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is aghast at the pace of my packing. "Fucking ridiculous. You're taking so much bullshit." 

Mom also is pissed that I didn't buy new shoes before leaving for Houston. "Now, you going with those old fucking pathetic things. The store is right down the street. Jesus." 

The neighbors took down their above ground pool, and the trash in front of the house was enormous. "Those people belong in the fucking country. ... I don't know how much longer my pool will last. Twenty fucking years so far." 

PARTING SHOTS

There's a serious editing discussion Tuesday night. 

Jelly (pointing at the screen): There's no way this can be right. 

Bake: I know. That's your left hand. 

Joe the Security Guard engages me in conversation near the vending machines. 

Joe: How you doin', Chris?

Me: Fine. 

Joe: I can't wait until this new machine doesn't say out of order anymore.

Me: Why's that? 

Joe: I want some Big Az chicken. I like Big Az. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My favorite five times of the day. 

5) 7:47 p.m. or a.m.

Cuz of the aircraft. He. He. 

4) Noon.

Ever have a nooner? 

3) Midnight. 

Sounds like it's time for a snack.

2) 4 a.m. 

I like the feeling right before drifting off to sleep. 

1) Sunrise. 

A sight to behold, indeed. 

UMMMMMMMMMMMMMM......

APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Got ya. I got ya. Ha. Ha. Ha. Everything above in today's entry is completely made up. It was all a figment of my imagination. Suckers. 

Just so you know, I've been planning this since Mardi Gras. April Fools again. You guys are too easy. It was more like the first day of March.