I have had the good fortune, the last two days in a row, of having one of my friends request an impromptu glass of wine on my stoop at or around five o’clock. Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffet were right when they sang ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere.’ That somewhere is on my stoop and the actual hour will now be appropriately coined, Jimmy Jack Time.
That’s Not Chinese was my first friend to stop by and did so with this introduction, “I’m in your backyard investigating a crime scene.” She makes this comment in regards to Fuckin’ Cat – the neighborhood cat who kills my gnomes, uses the hood of my car as a slide (and he has claws – D-Dog and Sleepless might suggest I enforce a Claws Clause), poos on my lawn and in my plants, and makes his way into my home without permission. “He is a true cat burglar,” I advised her as we enjoyed our wine. “No he isn’t. Your daughter is a cat burglar. She comes over and steals your food,” That’s Not Chinese countered. She might want to keep watching Law & Order before ‘practicing’ any more law.
The next day, Oreggano sent me a text suggesting we share a bottle of wine and I came home to find her and 4-oh-9 patiently waiting for me on the stoop. “Good timing. If I had to wait any longer I was going to pee in your front yard,” she told me. “Two people would love that,” I said and added, “That’s Not Chinese and the creeper across the street.” Although That’s Not Chinese wasn’t around to approve this activity, the creeper and his paternal creeper were across the way – ready, staring and waiting.
As we sat on the stoop, discussed all of the most important life events and drank wine, the passersby (a couple walking with a compressor, a guy dancing on a skateboard, a kid pantomiming with his right hand, and a couple pulling a wagon full of clothes, to name a few) were providing good entertainment. “You pulled out all the stops tonight,” Oreggano told me. “I’m glad you appreciate the entertainment. I just sent out a tweet saying we would be stooping and they not only showed up, they shined,” I replied.
What wasn’t shining, as of late, were the sex lives of myself and several others. Oreggano and I discussed the fact that, for women, sex drives/interest change with age, situation and hormones, but never really seem to change for men. “On My Terms told me she recently caught her 93-year-old grandpa jacking off,” I told Oreggano. He clearly misunderstood the term ‘Jimmy Jack Time.’ “I don’t think you need to have sex all of the time to maintain a good relationship,” Oreggano told me. “I agree. We’ve never had sex and we have a great relationship,” I said.
She agreed, we continued to enjoy our Jimmy Jack Time and, I’ve no doubt, my creeper neighbor – not as old as On My Terms’ grandpa, but getting up there (pun intended?) – sat across the way, in the dark, staring and enjoying his Jimmy Jack Time.