Nurse the Hate: Hate The Bubblegum

A friend of mine went to a work conference in Phoenix. I don’t know if you have ever been to Phoenix. It’s sort of like if you took Columbus strip plazas and dropped them on the surface of Mars. Chain restaurants and industrial parks sit awkwardly on dusty desolate lots forming an uneasy community. My friend is standing around in this trade show with a co-worker. The day is starting to wind down and the co-worker suggests they go outside for a smoke. My friend doesn’t smoke, but is not above looking for any excuse to leave a trade show floor that he has been trapped on for the last ten hours. They walk outside to the back entrance to the building, reserved for facility employees and trade show workers. They hop onto a loading dock ramp and take in the late afternoon sun and relentless heat of Phoenix in June. In the parking lot, an elderly man is sweeping up trash. A late model import car pulls up, and a beautiful woman gets out of the car. All three men stop what they are doing and stare open mouthed like they are 14 years old as this woman walks confidently by them into the facility. The woman shows them no more notice than if they were shrubs. The door closes behind her. The janitor chuckles to himself and walks over to the loading dock where my friend is sitting. “You know about the wimmens. They love two things. They love the bubble gum and they love the dick. And I always tell them I’m out of the bubblegum!” He cracks himself up so much, he doubles up in laughter. After a minute he goes back to sweeping. The guys went back inside to the trade show.