April 3, 2008

Old Dogs, the Lolita complex, and I'm damn glad they were just visiting...

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin, Texas. Men are stupid. Just ask any woman. We're also childish, unbelievably immature, tediously juvenile, at times intolerably gross and generally tolerated by women for the few things that we are good for. Which is, admittedly, a sliding scale of diminishing returns as we get older, but what the Hell - I know we're damn sure good enough for some things anyway. Rather than do my list, I would ask each and every guy out there to silently compose their list (okay, it didn't take long, did it? Damn, I hate that), and we can move on to today's discussion.

Now, I was going to title this column, "Doc, she was 17 going on 30, if you know what I mean..." but Jack Nicholson already played that scene better in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest so there's no need for me to add to it. Let's just say I just survived a fairly interesting week down here at Dr. Bud's World Headquarters. You see, it was Spring Break, and Jolene's sister thought it would be a good time to visit - and bring her 17-year-old daughter and her 17-year-old girlfriend with her so they could check out the University of Texas campus - because they'd both applied, and since they're little brainiacs will most likely breeze their way in.

Which is fine and all, because I figured with the two older sisters reminiscing about their salad days while showing the young up and comers "the ropes" so to speak, I could be left relatively alone and unscathed from the chaos except for a few dinners. Now, how could I possibly think, after all this time, that things would work out as planned?

First off, me and Jolene's sister (Julie) get along just fine, so that wasn't going to be an issue. But when they pulled up to the house and the two girls bounded out of Julie's brand new Enclave, I was like, whoa, what happened to cute little Kelli who I saw, oh, maybe five years ago? Let me paint the picture for you...

Kelli was wearing black form-fitting workout pants (the kind that end too short and flare out at the bottom - I have no idea what that's about), flip-flops, a black tank top with the words "Too Hot for You" written out in glittery script, big silver hoop earrings and ultra-hip sunglasses, and her friend Daisy (no kidding) had on, appropriately enough, the shortest and tightest pair of Daisy Duke jean shorts that I have ever seen, a black tank top with no writing necessary, apparently, a pair of kick-ass cowboy boots, hip sunglasses, big jangly earrings and a black baseball hat. And to top it all off, needless to say, these girls weren't twelve.

I came out on the porch with Jolene, and she took one look at the girls and their, ahem, "grown-up" figures and one look at me (I must have had that dazed cowboy look I get with my mouth hanging part way open) and said (so only I could here), "Oh boy."

"Oh boy" wasn't on my mind at that moment. It was more like "Oh, shit" as Kelli came bounding up on to the porch to give me a big ol' hug saying, "Hey, Uncle Bud!" as she wrapped her little rock star figure around me. I, of course, tried to keep it as quick as possible, saying lamely, "Well look at you! You're not so little anymore!"

And then Jolene and Julie said almost in unison, shooting me a look, "No, she certainly isn't."

Then, I shook hands with Daisy, who looked at me with this big mega-watt smile as she said, "It's so nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you!" Yikes.

The rest of their five days and four night stay was pretty much a blur. The four of them did, in fact, spend a lot of time together, which was good, and I was treated to a parade of fashions that well, let's just say it was all I could do to keep my thoughts from poppin' up like balloons over my head - the kind of thought balloons that Jolene can read from across a room, I might add.

And I succeeded for the most part, except for one morning...

I got up early to enjoy a little peace and solitude before the chick-fest got into high gear, put on some coffee and was enjoying the paper, when about 20 minutes later, Jolene joined me. That was fine and everything until Daisy came wandering into the kitchen with a see-through camisole top and some very brief men's boxer-briefs on, followed shortly by Kelli who was wearing very brief spandex workout shorts and a half T-shirt. That's it.

Okay, I couldn't help it. They were both standing by the refrigerator jawing away, and I was just mesmerized, transfixed by the young, nubile beauties just five feet away from me. I was brought out of my Lolita stupor by a well-placed kick in the shin from Jolene, as she calmly said, "Girls, I think you should go put some more clothes on." They politely said "okay" and then ran off to the bedroom to get dressed. I, of course, watched intently as they disappeared from view.

And then I turned to Jolene and said, "What the fuck? What's with the kick? Damn, woman." Big mistake.

"Bud," she fired back, her eyes getting that intense glare that I know oh so well. "You know damn well what that kick was for. They're se-ven-teen (saying it with her teeth clenched) for heaven's sake. It's called jail bait, and you, more than anyone by the way, should know better. Grow up. You're old enough to be their father."

I thought for a moment that it would be best if I just kept my mouth shut at that very moment, but then a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

"I can look if I want to. They're in my house and they're right there, flaunting it in my face. You may think they're little innocent Teen Queens, but trust me, they understand full well the power at their disposal, and they're learning to use it."

As I was finishing my statement, Julie walked in. Now, I don't know about you, and I don't know how long you've been readin' my columns, but I have a way of getting into it with women (I refer to 'em as Texas Hell Cats), and it usually gets out of control in a big hurry and doesn't go good. And right now, I had two riled-up sisters giving me the same look, not knowing which one of 'em was going to let me have it first.

"I'm glad you could join us, Julie, because I was just telling Bud what an asshole he is for leering at your daughter and her friend like he was at a strip club," Jolene said gruffly.

"Really? My, now isn't that mature, Bud."

I shot back, "Oh, like I'm the first man who has noticed your daughter's budding maturation? Give me a frickin' break."

And what part of that I could possibly think was a good idea I'll never know, because that unleashed a five-minute firestorm/tongue-lashing from the two of them that had them dressing me up and down using words like "typical," "idiotic," "sending the wrong message,"  "grow up," "pig," "jerk," "juvenile" and a whole bunch of other stuff that you can probably imagine.

And then there was a lull in the beat-down, so I calmly got up, got my keys, and went to the coffee shop up at the corner for a little peace and quiet, avoiding the whole thing the rest of the day, as they went shopping, etc., etc.

Okay, so I was guilty but then again, I couldn't help it. These girls were seventeen going on T-r-o-u-b-l-e with a capital "T" if you know what I mean.

When they came in later in the day, I was in my office with the door closed, avoiding the issue entirely. And I stayed there, until Jolene knocked saying that dinner would be on shortly.

Everything was cool that evening as the sisters sort of made nice with me, figurin' they might have been a little hard on the Old Dog. And the girls were their carefree selves, blabbing at a mile-a-minute and eager to get on with the whole college thing.

And, amazingly enough, I kind of got the last laugh in this story, as Kelli blurted out right before the end of dinner, "Mom, why don't you and Aunt Jolene go do something tomorrow so Uncle Bud can give us his version of Austin and UT?"

I sort off looked off into the distance like I didn't hear it, and then I heard Julie say to Jolene, "Well, I wouldn't mind hangin' with you for lunch tomorrow, if that's cool with you."

Jolene gave me a brief little look that it was okay, that they both knew I would be on my best behavior and said simply, "Sure. Sounds fun."

Well, well, well. I took those two hot little Teen Queens on a tour of Austin like they never dreamed of. I drove 'em around, showin' 'em all the cool clubs and all. Told 'em where to go for good cheap eats, where the best breakfast place is, etc., etc., drove 'em around so they could ogle all of the strapping young men without Julie and Jolene hovering over 'em, showed where it was all goin' on essentially, and then I finally took them to El Arroyo - the "Cultural Center of the Universe" down here - and one of the best damn bar-restaurants in town, all-time.

They l-o-v-e-d every damn minute of it too.

And funny thing was, about half-way through lunch I noticed that a few guys were givin' me quick little smiles and acknowledgements as they walked by, or from across the room, which I was slow pickin' up on. I mean, what were they so frickin' cheery about? And then it dawned on me. These girls could be my daughters, if I had daughters, but they didn't look like me at all. And these other guys were thinkin' all those bad thoughts that got Jolene and Julie all riled-up in the first place. And they were just very happy for me.

I just leaned back and smiled and enjoyed the glow of youth sitting across the table from me.

It was a perfect day, if I do say so my own self.

Life can be pretty good sometimes, and sometimes when you least expect it too.

But I'm damn glad they were just visiting...

Adios until the next time.