Thanks
as always for checking out the blog.
Before
I continue with my story about the year I spent in the Kansas City area, a year
that turned out to be a blonde vs. brunette battlefield, I wanted to make a couple
of administrative comments. First, I’m
trying to figure out how to best illustrate the stories. Clearly, we didn’t have smart phones with
either photo or embedded video capability ~25 years ago, so I don’t have
pictures of anything that I’m going to blog about. But we do have boxing, wrestling, and
catfighting videos now, so I’ll probably use some of them when I think it shows
a reasonably accurate portrayal of the girls fighting. My second point is that while I was working
on this blog over the past week, I started getting all cranked up. Mid week, my mind was reeling after working
on the blog for about 30 minutes. I
actually got into a blonde vs. brunette conversation with a young girl, maybe
20 or so, while I was out jogging and, at one point, waiting for the lights to
change at an intersection cross walk.
Well,
I couldn’t resist. She was a dark
brunette, Hispanic I’m sure, and was wearing sun dress and heels.
Just
minutes earlier I was in a gym near my workplace and there was this blonde in there
that I hadn’t seen before, and she was solid muscle. I watched her, very discreetly of course, for
most of my workout and then before departing to go for a run, walked up to her
asked if there was any part of her body that wasn’t solid muscle. (Might as well use the direct approach!)
She
laughed and said, “Well yeah, a couple at least.”
“Ha,
ha” I said, “I didn’t mean anything naughty!”
So
we chatted for a couple of minutes.
This
gal was a natural blonde (eyebrows and short hairs on the back of the neck and on
the arms never lie) with crystal clear blue eyes, standing about 5’2” and maybe
a hundred or so pounds. All of which was
muscle.
So
naturally, when I saw this brunette waiting for the lights to change I had to
say something because my mind was ready to explode. The direct approach again: “Hey, I hate to
bother you but me and a buddy of mine were having this argument in the gym
about which girls were stronger, blondes or brunettes. So tell me, what do you
think? Who are stronger, blondes or
brunettes?”
After
the initial shock, she started laughing.
We chatted back and forth as we crossed the street. She was blabbering about how there were
strong blondes, and there strong brunettes and then there were weak blondes and
there were weak brunettes and then there were so many different ways to measure
strength, as well as stamina, which she said was simply strength over time, so
that the question couldn’t really be answered in any meaningful way and finally
I said something like “Cut the shit and just answer the fucking question, will
ya?”
Ok,
it wasn’t that bad, but it was close.
So
she looked at me and with a big huge smile said, “Brunettes, of course! Brunettes
are stronger than blondes!”
“Well
thanks!” I said, “And hey, listen since you’re taking this so well and not
punching in 911 on your smart phone, let’s talk about catfights.”
And
wouldn’t you know it, instead of saying “Get away from me you creep” she started
all over again with “Well you know there are some blondes that can fight and
some blondes that can’t fight, and there are some brunettes that can fight and
some that can’t fight, and basically a girl has to have a reason to fight and
if she does, it doesn’t make any difference what her hair color is … and blah,
blah, blah..”
And
on and on until I finally said, “For Christ sakes, will you please answer the question,
before the Earth is consumed by the sun?”
And
she said, “Brunettes of course! We always beat up blondes when we fight! Well,
almost anyway, it all depends on…”
She
was funny. We chatted a little longer;
she was home on college break and had an internship in downtown Washington DC
and was walking from the metro (subway) to a bus stop so she could get back to
her home in the Shirlington neighborhood of Arlington, when I started bugging
her.
Nice
girl. I thanked her for entertaining an old guy, we fist bumped, and I jogged
away.
This
really happened on Wednesday!!
---------------------------------------------------------
Will
I ever get to the blog entry about Kansas City?
Of
course.
Picking
up where we left off last week ….
So
we headed back to the mid west, me in my Toyota 4Runner and Jacky in her Ford
Mustang which could hardly carry more than a couple of suitcases, explaining
why my 4Runner was packed to the gills.
I'd say it was a good drive but I had to get back to work and so were
focused on making time, not love.
Eventually
we got to St. Louis where we checked her into a furnished, extended stay place
– I think it was an Oakwood apartment – near the main highway. My thought was to head straight back to Leavenworth
but since Jacky was wearing her daisy dukes, how could I? After all, what's the point in having a lover
if you don't make love every chance you get? So once I brought all her gear up from
my truck and got her room squared away, off came her shorts and she squared me
away!
Coming
back to Leavenworth, I accepted the reality of a long summer with a lot of work
and no vacation time coming to me. Thank
God Jacky was in the same area of the country and had to do a lot of business
in Kansas City, which she said she would try to arrange each Friday! Nothing
better than being free and unencumbered all week and then having a gorgeous dark
haired, dark eyed Italian girl dressed in a halter top and hot pants waiting to
take you in her arms on the weekend!
Being
a decent, but not spectacular high school athlete, one of my interests over the
years was running. Of course, the whole
country got caught up in the jogging craze in the 1970s, so there was always plenty
of eye candy out on the streets. Jacky
herself didn't run much. She dabbled in
gymnastics and tennis in high school, but mainly avoided athletic
pursuits. She certainly didn't need to
run in order to burn off calories: dark
and slim, she was born in good shape and effortlessly seemed to stay that
way. Her legs were shapely and sexy,
although her calves were a bit skinny.
She always joked about slicing off and implanting some of my very sexy
calf muscles into her legs.
So
one day I'm jogging through Leavenworth and I look off to the side and there's
this little park area and I see this blonde-haired girl throwing what looks
like a punch in the stomach to another blonde girl. "Well, damn: I thought, "You don't
see that every day!"
Naturally,
I moved in for a closer look. It didn’t
take long for me to figure out this was a photo shoot of some type, the girls
weren’t really fighting and there’s this older guy with a 35mm camera (the type
that used something called “film” to record images) and he’s giving
instructions to the girls and snapping pictures as they posed in various
fighting positions. Damn, I thought,
kinda like Sports Review’s apartment house wrestling, except this was in a
little field. I decided to hag out and
see what happened and my presence didn’t go unnoticed by the gentlemen with the
camera. After another 15 minutes or so
of very nice poses to include the girls pinning each other on the grass, he
appeared to thank them and then hand them something, cash it turns out, and
then they hopped in a car and drove away.
At
this point in the story, I should add that I had been working out at the
Leavenworth Rec Center which was a reasonably proceed gym and pool not far from
my hotel in the downtown area. Nice place, with a pool. I had befriended some of the folks who worked
there and was helping, just a few hours here and there, coach young kids little
league. A bunch of the young fellows, up
to age 12 or so, hung out at the rec center on weekends, and soon as school was
about to let out, during the summer months.
Little did they, or me, know at the time, that they would become an
integral part of a stunning blonde vs. brunette battle involving Jacky as the
summer ended.
But
I bring it up now because one of the girls looked familiar.
Figuring
I had nothing to lose, I approached the old guy and introduced myself. Don, he replied, was his name.
Well,
it turns out Don was fascinated by girls fighting. Like me, he was a big Sport Review Wrestling
magazine fan and enjoyed the apartment house wrestling features. He was, in fact, trying to recreate something
like that and sell the photos to either SRW or an adult publication that
featured catfight materiel. Or maybe start
his own mail order business and sell his own videos. Lot of possibilities he said.
We
decided to have a few beers at a local bar.
I think the name of it was “Green’s” or something like that, but I can’t
find it anywhere on the internet. Must
have been something else--?
Well,
it turns out he was trying to arrange a private match in his backyard but the
two blondes wanted something more public, apparently they were afraid that Don
was a pervert or something, and weren’t to enamored with the thought of going
to his house.
“Well,
I am a pervert” he said, “So I don’t blame them.”
Turns
out the girls had been recently hired by the rec center to handle the summer
crowds, mostly kids out of school. Don said they attended the University of
Kansas and had been hired by the rec center just before the Memorial Day
weekend. “Well” I thought “That’s why
they looked a bit familiar.”
Don,
a retired widower said if I was willing to kick in a few bucks, he’d call me when
he had a couple of girls lined up and ready to wrestle. There would be a few other guys there as
well, he said, helping to share the costs.
Sounds
good I told him.
And then I made a suggestion.
"You've lived here forever Don, so you know better than me that the Mexicans are starting to move in. Maybe you could get one of those dark Latinas to fight a white girl, a blonde maybe. I bet that would be a good battle."
He looked stunned, and then glanced both ways before whispering to me, "I'm trying to do just that, but it's been tough to arrange."
When
I got back to the hotel, I snapped up the weekly Leavenworth paper in the lobby,
took it back to my room and left it on the desk, unread, before turning in for
the night. “Maybe I’ll read it in the
morning” I thought, before heading off to brush my teeth and get ready for a
good snooze.
As
I slept, the paper lay on my desk and I lay in my bed, not knowing that the
paper had a prominent advertisement for something called “Buffalo Bill Cody
Days” an annual Leavenworth festival that featured arts, crafts, and amateur
mud wrestling.
