Two great quotes from the best soccer player ever, and the dubious role model for Joe Namath and every hotshot athlete since: "I spent millions on booze, women and fast cars.
The rest I just squandered."
When dropped by Manchester United after 10 years he was asked why. "I went missing.
Miss UK, Miss Universe, Miss America....."
The difference between Republicans and Democrats:
Cindy Sheehan from Camp Casey.....speaking seated from behind six-foot white Costco folding table. No linen!! No drape!! Aaaccck! Come on people, we even drape our tables when we go camping..... The devil is in the details.
In the eighties, when Nancy Reagan headed the "Just Say 'No' to Drugs" campaign, I overheard a Pebble Beach Grand Dame say: "I told Nancy....For God's sake.....Just Say 'No, Thank You'...whatever happened to manners? Even drug dealers should have manners....."
Speaking of manners.
Friday we were working for Lizardo in Pebble Beach. (Lizardo and family fly in for Thanksgiving each year and rent the old Taylor House. We do dinners from Wednesday to Saturday. They are a really nice family.....they flew Brendan to their Bahamas house for two weeks last winter on their jet. Nice...)
Anyway, Friday at 5 we were preparing for cocktails and dinner at 6:30. The doorbell rings, and ''Voila!", two guests are at the door. They had been invited for drinks before dinner. The guy had a zillion dollar leather jacket, and the woman had a zillion dollar breast implant, and they were already smashed. Lizardo and crew were not even home yet. The guy poured himself Mr. Lizardo's crazy expensive Argentinian cab and had us open a white for Mrs. Tits. "Is there any food? "
We were shocked when the guy recognized us: "You are from the Cachagua Store, aren't you? What are you doing here? We know them from our ranch in Wyoming...." Like we had broken in and were making off with the silver.... We explained that we come with the house, and have done this for a few years. "Oh, yes. Liz doesn't cook. They even fly in a chef to their Caribbean house...." I pointed at Brendan and said, "There he is....." They were stunned.... Cachagua trash and jet set?
When the Lizardo's did arrive, they had to tag-team the guests and showers to get ready for dinner. We offered Goldfish with a straight face.
At the proper 6:30 sharp moment, the doorbell rang again, and in came 6 more guests for drinks. Seconds later the power went out. We scrambled for candles and flashlights and carried on with hors d'oeuvres. I called PG&E (clueless) and Pebble Beach security (non-English speaking and clueless that the Lodge, the Beach Club and the whole Gold Coast were dark). Everyone asked me what was going on. "You're doing a heck of a job, Brownie!" I replied. No one laughed.
Proving once again the existence of a female deity, the power outage locked the security gates to the Taylor house tight. (Keep those Negroes at bay!) We were stuck with the Leather and Tits couple, and the possibly even more overbearing Wolcott's (''We have dinner reservations! Do something!"). The younger Lizardo's went out to the dark to smoke something while we continued appetizers and drinks by candlelight and desparately tried to open the gates. P.G. Woodhouse was there somewhere, chuckling in the shadows.
Pebble Beach Security finally arrived. Non-English speaking. No tools on the truck. A barely glowing flashlight. "You're doing a heck of a job, Brownie!" We were able to commandeer the truck, drive to Donny Brascoe's and borrow tools.
Meanwhile Mr. Leather had told Gilda to shut up (someone asked her the selling price of Holman Ranch, where she was manager). He went for the tri-fecta when he barged into the candlelit kitchen, shoved her out of the way and snarfed a half dozen uncooked fandangos from a half sheet. Mmmmm. Mayonnaise and green onions.
We pulled the pins on the gate and freed the beasts. Leather was too drunk by now, so he gave the keys to Tits. Off they went. As I went back in to the house, Gilda was standing there with a certain look on her face. She handed me a sheet of paper: New silver Aviator; Oregon plates XOH 433, Watsonville license plate frame (no sales tax in Oregon, you see).
"Hello? Highway Patrol? I'd like to report a drunk driver......New silver Aviator, eastbound on Carmel Valley Road, Oregon plates.......Oh, and they are California residents, so check that sales tax thing........Oh, thanks. Just doing our duty....."
Revenge is a meal which is best eaten cold. And with the hands.