[sinclairfan]

After my Thursday morning groin-kneeing session with Dawn behind the butcher's alley, I express to her my sadness that my Spring Break week in Cleveland is drawing to a close.  She tries to cheer me up, or at least engage in a sour grapes session with me.

> It's probably just as well, Lisa.  You're getting too good at it.  You almost knocked me out this morning.

> I know what you mean.  One of your grunts was ... different .... it was painful .... I almost felt bad for you....

> YOU??  .... Feeling sorry for someone?!? .... puh-leeze!

> I said almost .... Although, Dawn, I really mean this ... I do feel bad you can't watch me catfight Maria this summer .... in our grown-out hair.

> I DO appreciate a good catfight.  You're right about THAT. 

> [Dawn must really be growing on me .... I get a flash of inspiration.]  Dawn ..... is there anyone you know .... in the area .... some friend or coworker of whatever .... who'd be available .... willing, I guess .... to catfight me .... with you watching .... before I go home.

> You'd actually do that?

> For you?  Yes.  I feel like I owe you.  And I feel like you'd enjoy it.

> So, tomorrow night at Fish Fry ... there's a girl my age .... she's shown me some Cleveland lesbian bars .... [in 1987, you can only find such a thing by word of mouth .... they're not advertised]  .... she's pretty ..... in fact more feminine than me .... dresses real nice .... dresses gitmrly, in fact .....but DO NOT underestimate her ..... she packs a whallop.  In fact, Lisa .... I'll only agree to introduce you to her if you take this 100% serious .... Lisa, she likes to hurt people .... you up for it?  I can bring her to our table at Fish Fry tomorrow, you can feel her out, k?

> Got any pictures I can see?  [This is 1987.  We can't log onto her Instagram page and check out her selfies.]

When we get home, after putting the meat in the fridge, Dawn goes to her shoebox under her bed and pulls out Halloween and 4th of July pictures of Kelsey.  She's a redhaired Irish beauty.

> Shit, Dawn, you were selling her short.  She's sexy as fuck.

> Thanks a lot!!!  What the fuck am I?!?  Chopped liver??

> [I feel terrible.  Me and my big mouth.  I kiss Dawn on the cheek.]  Oh, I'm sorry sweetie.  I didn't mean it that way.  I meant, more .... wouldn't you love to watch Kelsey and me beating the shit out of each other?!?

> Nice save.  And, yes I would .... but Lisa .... I fucking meant it .. if we're gonna do this .... I mean it .... Do NOT underestimate this bitch.  She'll be out for blood if you agree to fight her.

> My kinda fight.

> Lisa .... this is Cleveland .... she grew up here.

> Tell her to bring it.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Although I downright LOVED Dawn .... and the sexy week I was spending in Cleveland with her and her family ..... I was borderline PISSED that she thought she needed to issue warnings to mr about fighting Kelsey.

It reminded me of senior year of high school tennis, when we traveled by bus to away games with the softball team.

We would snipe back and forth on the bus with them that:
-tennis players were smarter than softball players
-tennis players were more athletic than softball players
-tennis players were prettier than softball players
-and finally, tennis players could beat up softball players.

One day after an aggravating afternoon of us both having matches that were rain delayed, then started, than had play interrupted, then wete cancelled, we were hungry and cranky and bitchy.

The bitchiest softball player, Paulette [their catcher], and the bitchiest tennis player, Sofiya [I know!  nor me!!], offered to show us all the answer to the final dispute.

Who would win a catfight between a softball player and a tennis player.

They went at it outside the bus with 50 horny girls cheering them on.

The fight only lasted 2 minutes.  Paulette won, to the humiliation of all of us tennis players.

But Sofiya did great.  Paulette had a black eye for a week.

Maybe it's KELSEY who needs to not underestimate ME, Dawn.

You bitch.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

The evening before my Fish Fry confrontation with the mysterious bad girl Kelsey, I attend Stations of the Cross with Dawn.  Hearing the Stations of the Cross story, the 14 "chapters" of the Good Friday execution of Jesus, always reminds me that all his male companions (with the possible exception of Joseph of Arimithea and Simon of Cyrene), even Peter, abandoned him during his hours of need.

While all his female companions stayed at his side.  And witnessed what happpened.

Women are the only one's that have balls.  Maybe it's a mistake to fight Kelsey.

But just as the cold feet are setting in, I see her, across the church.  Kelsey.  In a sexy gold-and-red silky blouse, which highlights her perfect bust.  Her hair is teased 1980s style--she must have been spraying it all afternoon.  She's wearing sexy leather heeled boots.

I move away slightly from Dawn so that Kelsey doesn't notice me.  I have the advantage right now--I know what Kelsey looks like, but she doesn't know what I look like.  I mean, she knows I'm an attractive blonde college student-aged woman.  But there's about a dozen of us listening to the Stations right now--this ethnic German/Polish/Czech neighborhood pumps out attractive blondes like an assembly line, apparently.

My point is:  Gaaawwwd, I wanna fight Kelsey.  Touch her silky blouse.  Wreck her sexy 1980s big hair.  Smell her up close.

I realize I need to pee.  I head to the tiny restroom, with two stalls.

I sit and pee in one stall.  In the stall next to me, I see the feet of another woman sitting to pee. 

Shit, it's Kelsey in her leather boots.

She talks thru the stall to me.

"So you're the college bitch Dawn brought to fight me tonight?"

[Shit.  Does she KNOW it's me, or is she guessing?]  "If you're not afraid to, bitch."

"I'm gonna fuck you up ....extra..... for thinking I'm afraid."

"Bring it."

I get up and redress.

Kelsey is too pussy to fight me right there in the small bathroom.

Either that, or she's allowing Dawn to watch us fight later.

I wonder if she's crushing on Dawn.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

At Fish Fry, Dawn, Kelsey, about 8 other attractive 20something women, and I sit around a wide circular table covered in a wide apron.  We're all eating fried fish, cole slaw, and french fries.  I want to eat enough to have energy for my catfight later tonight, but not so much that I vomit.

Kelsey speaks to the other women at the table:  "Did you girls hear about this college bitch Lisa?  She drove to Wheaton College to fight a girl."

"No way!".  "Holy moley."  "You beast, Lisa."

Except .... how does Kelsey know the story of my fight with Lorraine?  She must have heard from Dawn.  But how does Dawn know?  She must have heard from my suitemate.  But when were they talking about me?  Just this week?  Before?  If before ... is that how Dawn knew I'd be up for kneeing each other in the butcher alley?

Wheaton College in 1987 is in the news, at least in LGB circles, since it's thinking of finally admitting men, after 100 years of being girls-only.  The women at the table immediately recognize that I must be LGB, if I'm driving to Wheaton for fights.

It's a shame I'm fighting tonight.  Three to five women at the table  would take me home tonight.

Women have balls.  They ask out attractive women.  Men don't.

Kelsey speaks again.  "I bet I can take her."

To be continued...

[sinclairfan]

After the Fish Fry, Kelsey, Dawn, 5 of the lesbians, and I started walking, to what turned out to be one of the lesbian's crappy apartment, to watch Kelsey and I fight.

Before we were done eating, I already knew I was gonna lose the fight.

I don't know if it was a bad piece of fish, my not being used to fried food since going away to college, or my nervousness at fighting in front of such an unexpectedly large crowd of strangers .... it was probably all three ..... but I felt woozy and out of sorts already at the dinner table.

And then walking to the fight, how I felt just got worse and worse and worse.  I was barely holding it together.  I wanted to bail from the fight in the worst way.

But how do you bail on a catfight 6 attractive women have been waiting all day to watch.

I felt sssooo sick to my stomach.  And not with a sensation that I was gonna hurl out of my mouth.  I had the sensation that my whole dinner was gonna come out the other end.  If not unassisted, then when Kelsey started hitting me.

Fuck, I was gonna be a laughing stock.

And Kelsey would get the satisfaction of humiliating me.  And thinking her fighting skill had done it.  That was the biggest kick up the ass of all--literally, and figuratively.

The apartment we fought in was run down, but the worst, grimiest feature of all was the filthy, crusty carpet.

I knew I'd be eating that carpet before tonight was over.  Because if Kelsey ate bad fish and got sick right before a fight, that's what I'd do to her.  Or Maria.  Or Maureen.  Or Lorraine. Or any bitch.

All 8 of us crammed into an empty bedroom, with claustrophobic 7-foot ceiling.  I grew up in coastal Rhode Island .... but who the fuck lives in a place with 7-foot ceilings??

The 6 spectators formed a circle around us.

Kelsey tore of her gold blouse, a litzle too melodramatically I though.

> Ooooooo, tough girl.

> College bitch.

> COMMUNITY college bitch.  [I'd struck a nerve with Kelsey.  My mouth wrote a check that my butt ... and fists ... couldn't cash.  She decided in that instant she was gonna hurt me.  I hope that's just sweat in my ass crack .... and not diarrhea.]

In a flash, Kelsey had my blonde hair at the crown of my scalp, and rag-dolled me from side to side into the 6 women watching.  In a pussy move, they were punching and scratching me .... in addition to pushing me back into the center of the room .... at every chance.

I'd been rag-dolled in a fight before ... a couple times by Lorraine .... and knew to ride out the storm and let your opponent wear herself out.

It didn't work tonight, because the crowd was doing Kelsey's work for her, supporting my weight as dhe followed thru throwing me, and sling-shotting me back to the other side of the room.

The only one getting exhausted was me.

And the crowd was hungry for blood.

> Fuck her up, Kelsey.
> Stomp her.  Make her bleed.

Keksey mounted me and got her face in my ear.  "Pretty good for a community college girl ..... right?!? .... bitch?!?"

Never call an enemy a "community college girl".

Turst me.  Never.

Kelsey pulled down her pants and underwear and ground her soaked pussy into my nose and mouth.

And then did it more.

And more.

And more.

Cumming over and over.

It was horrible.

It wasn't really a fight.

My suitemate drove me back to Miami the next day in silence.

We never talked about my Spring Break Week in Cleveland.

Our suitemates came back from Fort Lauderdale and talked about all the sex they had with boys.  They told me how they like me letting my hair grow out.

Good.  I hope my Dad likes it.  When I fight Maria.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Easter Vigil Mass in the Catholic Church is a marathon:  8 Scripture readings, 3 hours long.  Your mind starts to wonder during it, especially if you're ADD-ish like me. 

Mine wondered at Miami in 1987, holding hands with my suitemate from Cleveland.  I started wondering if I had fucked up my life by sending P&G the impulsive letter about Lorraine.

When my Dad and I watched the Steelers-Bengals game in 1975, the NBC announcer, Curt Gowdy, was at the top of his profession.  NBC's main announcer for baseball AND football, and with his own Sunday afternoon hunting show.

Three weeks later, he fucked it all up with one impulsive act.

It was Game 3 of the 1975 World Ssries.  The Boston Red Sox (of course) were in Cincinnati (of course) playing the Reds.  In extra innings, Ed Armbrister of the Reds laid down a bunt, and accidentally interfered with the Red Sox catcher, Carlton Fisk, who made a throwing  error which led to the Red Sox losing the game, and eventually the Series.  The umpire, Larry Barnett, missed the interference call on Armbrister.

Curt Gowdy impulsiveness threw Barnett under the bus, criticizing him severely.  Barnett got death threats that winter.

NBC phased out Gowdy and brought in Vin Scully.

Gowdy fucked up his career in 2 minutes.

Was I doing the same by going to NYNEX this summer?  Instead of P&G?

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

On Easter, my Dad calls me to make sure I'm not feeling too blue.  I should be asking about his girlfriend, but that still doesn't feel normal yet, even though the two of them are clearly in it for the long haul.

I tell my Dad my hair is growing out nice.  When I was growing up playing tennis, I always kept it shoulder-length, because that's how Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova and Evonne Goolagong wore their hair, but if I had known how good it looks grown out, I would have worn it that way.

He tells me Maria's is looking good, too, grown out.  Thanks Dad.

He tells me she looks sexy in my old tennis shorts.  I guess what that's what she'll be wearing for our fight this summer.

He asks me if I remember the summer of 1976, watching late night TV with him.  The Spinners came on, singing Robber Band Man live.  We were intrigued by their Afro haircuts.  That's what Maria's looks like now, he claims, grown out.

I do remember.  I do remember The Spinners grooving on live TV in 1976, watching with my Dad.

It's 1987 now.  That was just 11 years ago.

So close.  And yet so long ago.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

As finals week approached at Miami for the Spring 1987 semester, I got a call from my dad's girlfriend. 

> Hey, bitch.  You're not calling to cancel out on our tit-boxing, are you [plus, my 'surprise' for her, knees to the crotch; but I'mnot going to mention that to her ahead of time].

> Not a chance, slut--your ass is grass [what does even mean??], but that's not why I'm calling.  I'm calling about your Dad.

> [Shit, is he ok?]  What about him?  [Was that too nonchalant??]

> What's up with him and your friend Maria?  He's spending way too much time with her.

> [WTF??  My Dad and Maria are an item??  I mean, he did always have a thing for her.  But now that she's 21, he can act on it.  Is he??]  Maria's not my friend anymore.

> That wasn't the point, dumb ass.  You still talk to your Dad.

> [I should probably 'take the 5th' on these questions.  But I've been caught off guard, and frankly a bit hurt, if my Dad has made a move with Maria and not told me.]  Dad's always had a thing for Maria.  Maybe he's been waiting for years for her to 21.  But if he has, he hasn't discussed it with me.  At least, not on the phone.  Maybe he was waiting to tell me in person.  [Maybe he was saving it for the day he watches me fight Maria--to make our fight more intense.  Would he do that??]

> Tell your Dad if he's not careful, I walk.

> You're not fucking prize, bitch.  Don't let the door hit you in the ass.

> Fuck you, bitch.

> Fuck YOU.

I lay on the bed and masturbate to the thought of kneeing my Dad's girlfriend in the crotch, like I did with Dawn in the butcher's alley during Spring Break.

Except when Dawn and I did it, it was for fun.

It will be deadly earnest when I do it with my Dad's girlfriend.

As will my catfight with Maria.  Now that I know she's fucking my Dad.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

In early May 1987, I wrap up my finals in medicore fashion.  I was headed to a 3.88 GPA for the semester, hopefully I didn't just fuck that up--I'll finf out in June when my transcript gets mailed.

Shit, I think I forgot to change my summer mailing address on file at Miami.  I think my trascript is gonna get mailed to Lorraine's address in Cincinnati, not my new address in Boston.

Shit, I wonder what she'll say when she gets it?  Will she forward it to me?

Are Lorraine and I on speaking terms?

I get to my apartment in Boston provided by NYNEX.  There's an alley outside just like the Cleveland butcher alley where Dawn taught me cxntbusting.  It'll be the perfect place to do "that" with my Dad's girlfriend.

If she hasn't dumped him yet.  Because of him un-unrequiting his lifelong crush on my frenemy Maria.

How did my like get this fucking complicated?

> Hey, bitch.  I'm in Boston.  My NYNEX internship starts Tuesday after Memorial Day.  I'm free till then.

> I'm on the way, Lisa.  I've been waiting for this day for four months, slut.

> [I've been waiting my entire life,...] cxnt.

> I'm getting in the car now.

> Hurry.  I can hardly wait [I can't], bitch.

> Bitch.  I'm gonna fucking kill you.

> Bring it.

Three hours later, ma Dad's girlfriend is buzzing my apartment from the lobby.  I don't want her in my apartment.  And I wanna start our 'fight'.

> I'm coming down, sweetie.

> I can't see your dumb apartment?

> We'll talk after we fight.

I meet in in the lobby.  We hold each others' biceps, not quite hugging, not quite locking up.

> I wanna show you something a bitch in Cleveland showed me.

> The neighborhood looks kinda shady.  [All of 1987 Boston is 'kinda shady', dumb ass.]

> Then let's finish before dark, hun.

We go to the dark alley.  I push her against the brick wall, and nail her in the crotch with a knee.

> Your hair looks nice, by the way, bitch.  Now, you do that do me, and we go back and forth.

> [She slams me against the brick wall.]  Your hair looks nice, too.  So long, but not stringy.  [She slams her knee into ma crotch.  I wince.]

My Dad's girlfriend and I go back and forth, kneeing each other, for a dozen rounds.  Far longer thsn Dawn and I ever did in Cleveland.

> Lisa.  Can we stop?  I gotta pee really bad.

> [Thinking.] Ok.

> This was fun by the way .... you were right.

> I always am.  Bitch.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

As my Dad's girlfriend and I relax (and recover)  in my NYNEX summer apartment, she starts leafing thru my orientation material, which includes profiles and headshots of my internship classmates.  There are 8 men and 2 women, of which I am one.

> Lisa, you don't find it .... coincidental ... that there are 2 .... exactly 2 women ..... abd the other one is a blonde rhat looks almost exactly like you??

> [I'm reluctant to admit to her .... and to myself .... that I got the intern position on a last-minute basis by sleeping the the recruiter.  Is that how the other female intern position?]  What are u saying?

> Lisa, you're always such a know-it-all, I wasn't gonna clue you in on this.  I was gonna let you find out for yourself.  But here goes--NYNEX is
[counts out on her fingers]
male
unionized
blue collar
in the Dark Ages.
Trust me, I know.  My uncle worked there when they were Ma Bell.  Lisa,   the guys there hate their jobs but can't quit because they'l never get a better job.

> My job is an office job.

> They'll be a small back office.  They'll be you and the other blonde bimbo and there, get you in the breakroom talking shit about each other, then try and get you to agree to an afterwork catfight. 

> So they can watch?  They're that bored?

> Maybe you can ask them yourself.  After you and the other girl fight.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

My first day at my NYNEX internship, it was obvious that my Dad's girlfriend had all her facts straight about the "office" there.

> It wasn't really an office.  It was a technical sub-station of some sort, with lots of wires and electronic transformers and switching gear.
 Yes, there was a room with desks and adding machines and phones and file cabinets.  But it was very Spartan.  Not very professional at all.

> Except for my Blondie co-intern, the whole workforce was horny blue collar men.  Who took a lot of coffee and smoke breaks.

> During those breaks, there were only 3 topics of conversation.  The Red Sox, pussy, and trying to get me or Blondie to talk shit about each other.

> The shit talk between Blondie and me clearly had a single purpose--to build up to a parking lot catfight between her and me before summer's end.  For money, but still a catfight.

So be it.

She and I stared at each other at our desks, knowing that by dummer's end we would fight each other.

Fine by me.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Blondie and I didn't talk much the first few weeks of that summer.  I could tell by how she looked at me, and my grown-out blonde hair, that she assumed I hadn't fought much.

Or at all.  Fine.  Let her think that.  She'll be sorry when I take her apart in the parking lot.

The men at smoke break didn't have much trouble getzing me to talk shit about her.

> She looks like a virgin.
> Or practically one.
> She looks luke every boy she's ever fucked has a small dick...
>... and didn't know how to use it.
> She looks like the kind of girl who's Dad fantasizes about her catfighting her ex-best friend ...
> .... and is dating her now .....
>. ... behind his girlfriend's back.
> She looks like she's in a dead end career....
> ....after having one locked up at a Fortune 500 company.
> She looks like she got rag-dolled in any alley in Cleveland over spring break.

I was projecting.

All those things, those insults, were describing me.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Blondie at NYNEX would need to wait, tho.  My next fight was against Maria.  The day to have it was obvious:  Father's Day.

My Dad was born 40 years to soon--the lack of technology in 1987 robbed him of lots of pre-fight hype which Maria and I could have been sending him if our fight happened in 2021:  us sending pre-fight videos, to him and to each other, having 3-way Zoom calls to plan the fight, threatening texts even; those kinds of things.

Instead, we grew our hair out and planned to each wear my old tennis skirt for the fight.

I was masturbating constantly about finally fighting Maria.  Was she as grown up and mature as she seemed from two years working a full-tume job?  And being in "the real world" of earning, spending, and saving?

Was I as messed up as I seemed from 2 years of college, internships, and bad sex?  Was I acting out as LGB from having bad sexual experiences with boys?  Did I actually enjoy relationships with girls, or was it all immature "that one time at college" crap?

What was my love-hate "thing" with Lorraine?  Did I love her?  Did I hate her?  Was she my frenemy?  Did all women have a frenemy?  Was I over-interpreting what I had with her?

Should she and I never met?  Would my life be normal if I hadn't?

The night before my fight with Maria, my Dad calls:

> Go easy on Maria, tomorrow, Lisa?

> Dad?!?  What kind of sick head game are you trying to play on me?  You're gonna get my ass kicked from her!!

> I'm serious, Lisa.  She's a good kid...

> She's A GROWN WOMAN.  She knows what she signed up for.

> She does .... and she's following thru with the fight because of that.  But please don't .... go too hard on her for doing that.  Catholics think mercy is good.  Right?

> [Maria will kick my ass thru so hard tomorrow if she gets the chance that I'll need to unbutton my collar to shit.  THIS IS A TRICK.]  Dad,.... since when do you follow Catholic tenants?  You traded down for a younger woman.

> You never told me it bothers you.

> THAT doesn't.  But sticking up for Maria does.  Tell her I'm bringing against her.

> Tell her youself.  She's right here.  [Hands the phone to Maria.]  Hey, bitch.  Can't wait to see you tomorrow.

> Me neither.  Slut.

> Whore.

> cxnt.

> Bitch.

> Fuck you.

I hang up and masturbate till 11pm.  Then I realize that's probably another trick of hers.  To get me on a bad night's sleep.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

I arrive at my Dad's on Father's Day for my fight with Maria.  A lot less of my Dad's girlfriend's stuff appears to be laying around the house--are they officially broken up?  Is Maria my Dad's official girlfriend now.

Maria is in my old bedroom getting dressed for the fight.  I already am in my old tennis uniform, one to match the one Maria is getting into right now.

My Dad kisses me on the forehead and wishes me luck in the fight.  He tells me my long blonde hair looks good grown out--not stringy at all.

He tells me a memory of when Maria used to have sleepovers with me at our my place, when my Dad and Mom were together:

> I remember you and Maria were supposedly best friends, but you'd argue and bicker at those sleepovers like worst enemies.  I remember listening to you two in the basement one night--you were watching 'Starsky and Hutch', and xou were arguing .... in an actual shouting match .... over who was hotter, David Soul or Paul Michael Glaser.  Calling each other bitches over it.  I remember your Mom and I had a bet ..... I thought that you be the night you and Maria finally came to blows in an actual catfight .... but your Mom was like, not yet, not yet .... the two of them will catfight someday, but not tonight.  They're still friends.  They haven't grown completely apart.  When THAT day comes, THAT's the day they'll have a blow-out catfight.

> Well, I guess the day has arrived.  Lucky you.  [I don't mention that just 7 hours ago, he called me to beg me to go easy on her.]

> Well, we'll see. 

> Did it turn you on when she and I would bicker?

> It turned me on that neither of you backed down to the other.  You were both headstrong girls.

Maria steps out of the bedroom my tennis outfit.  Her hair is down to her butt--it grows faster and thicker than mine.  And curlier--I've never seen her with such curly hair.

I'm gonna rip half of it out in our fight.

We stand and face each other, nose to nose.

> I'm gonna kill you, bitch.

> I'm gonna hurt you bad.  Slut.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Although Maria and I both did practically nothing but grab hair during the first 20 minutes of our catfight (besides maybe a little bit of shin kicking), my hair pulling of her did much more damge, because I was twisting her head and neck down and making it difficult for my ex-best friend to draw in full breaths.

I had learned the fine art of rag-dolling an opponent by her hair by painful experience--during the post-Fish Fry beating Kelsey and her interfering friends had put on me in Cleveland.  Once you've lived thru a humiliating ..... and painful .... experience like that, you tend not to forget it.

Maria's hairpulls on me, by contrast, were of the grab-and-pull-straight-out variety.  Hair was coming out by the roots--but she wasn't having an influence on any other part of my body.  And her hands were so fully occupied with my hair that I was free to throw her around the room, and eventually onto the ground.

Mounting Maria was the greatest feeling ever.  I pinned her shoulders down with my knees, and began slapping her face.  Well, began only tells a fraction of the story.  I slapped her face for a long time.  Those slaps had a lot of history in them.  Maria needed to know that I had ended our friendship, not her.

She needed to know I was the stronger woman.

She needed to know that a rematch wasn't even in the universe of possibilities.

The fight lasted long.  But was it a close fight, even for parts of it?  Not really.  Other than foot long swaths of blonde hair on the floor, and my intense sweating, you'd never know I had been in a fight that Father's Day.

Hopefulla my Dad will get back with hit legit tough gilrfriend now.  Hopefully I ended his Maria obsession.

Blondie at NYNEX better watch out.  Her summer internship will end with her on her back.

Like Maria.

To be continued....