Friday, Jul. 11, 2003 - 5:27 p.m.

Continued:

Fish out of water - part two

While my pals and I continued to lazed strewn around the pool of my West Hollywood circa1950�s courtyard condominium complex tastefully designed by noted architect, Edward H. Fickett, to insinuate the appeal of a Palm Springs upscale fashionable motel for the affluent and posh we were, as is our nature, making exceptionally caddy comments peppered with raunchy tactless critique of other dwellers as they walked passed. As the Stoli Ohranj Vodka moderately tempered with Ocean Spray Cran-Rasberry gradually vanished remarks expressed toward the lesbians, dry humping under a plaid flannel beach towel, turned increasing coarse.

With the temperature rising so did the frequency and duration of our dips in the pool. The two ladies, unable to further tolerate our inebriated uninhibited playful water frolicking, entered the pool with the finesse of American Marines storming the beaches of Normandy. It didn�t take long for the larger of the two, a beefy pierced tattooed filly with a jet-black dyed mullet named Terry, to find fault in our pool etiquette.

Sitting atop the pool deck, feet dangling beneath the cool chlorinated water, libation in our hands while other friends, torsos submerged, rested their arms on the deck to fight their lack of buoyancy, also drink in hand Terry grunts, "Get the glass out of the pool." Not one to be ordered about I politely inquired, "Say what?" She spoke again to say, "You can�t have glass in or near the pool." Inquisitively I asked, "Why not?" Terry politely informed me, "Pool rules." I cocked my head to read the charmingly antiquated listing of pool rules and true enough since there was no lifeguard on duty we were in deed swimming at own risk I, however, saw no mention made to the embargo of glass in or around the pool. I respectfully queried, "Say�s who?" Terry answered, "Look dickwad, if the glass breaks in the pool they�re gonna have to drain the whole thing to clean the glass out."

Finally the other woman, keeping the mystery alive by letting her stylish florescent magenta mop of wet frizz cover the majority of her facial features trudged up behind her girlfriend ready to mount her shoulders should a impromptu chicken-fight break out pitting mo�s against doe�s. Not intoxicated enough to miss the subtly of the challenge yet soused enough to inflame it I, once again referenced the fading white and aqua blue tin sign clearly outlining the pool rules, informed the girls, "Rule number four says �All girls must wear bathing caps� and even though you�re not all girl I think it still applies."

Needless to say, the building is still abuzz about the man at the pool heard screaming like a schoolgirl between his shouting, "I�ve got glass. I�ve got glass."

6:20 a.m. While rounding the corner with only a half-block remaining of my run humming John William�s score from Jaws I wondered when the Home Owner�s Association would lift the injunction on that sweet lesbian couple using the pool.

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