By Heather Hoch
By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
Lidia: No, I don't do that. I'd like to spank a few people, however, but because of this whole sexual harassment thing we can't do that. The thing is I'd probably be the one fired because I'd be doing the sexual harassing. So I just train on systems now, which is really boring, not what I'm used to. I'm used to fun stuff, "Hi, I'm Lidia, you wanna be just like me, fun and happy-go-lucky."
Bite Me: Are you ever in a bad mood? (Bite Me also wonders if Lidia ever shuts up and lets her sweet-looking friend speak a syllable.)
Lidia: Only when I'm not having sex. That would be now.
105 W. Portland St.
Phoenix, AZ 85003
Region: Central Phoenix
Bite Me: Well, now! Thanks for sharing. So, what's up with Shy Silk's hubby? He keeps glaring at me. (Hubby-o-shy chick has been shootin' some serious bitter vibes at Bite Me since she walked up. He looks like a man on the brink. She's about to find out what he's on the brink of because he suddenly snatches her tape recorder and proceeds to grill her.)
Cuckoo Random: Let me ask you a question. Where's your BA from?
Bite Me: Okay, freak, I'll bite. I have a pre-law degree from the University of California at Santa Barbara.
Cuckoo: And where's your MA comin' from? (Bite Me wonders what sort of an education this nutball thinks is necessary for thrusting a tape recorder in the faces of drunks.)
Bite Me: I'm not gonna get me no master's.
Cuckoo: What kind of degrees do you wish to get from any school? Do you wanna get a Ph.D.? Who are you working for?
Bite Me: New Times. (Bite Me is fed up. She grabs the tape recorder from freak boy. Enough is enough.)
Cuckoo: You guys don't do any good for anybody. You just run sex ads. You only do bad stories. (Bite Me has a mean right hook and she's about to show it off. Her eyes dart to her gay companion across the bar, who firmly shakes his head. Bite Me takes a deep breath. She will do this often in the next few minutes. Lidia, meanwhile, tries to calm downüber-weirdo.)
Lidia: Don't worry, Davey, I'll rub you down later . . . purrrrrrrrrr . . . (Cuckoo, a.k.a. Dave, dashes away.)
Bite Me: He hates me because I don't have a master's.
Lidia: Make sure I don't have a fat chin in the picture. No fat chin.
Bite Me: I'll do my best.
Lidia: No fat chin. Every photo I take, there's always the chin. (Bite Me thinks that Lidia needs to learn to love that chin. Jay Leno has made a career out of his, hasn't he?) Can you make my boobs look bigger?
Bite Me: Yours are bigger than mine. (Bite Me opens her jacket to flash some cleavage. Lidia is already showing cleavage. A lot of cleavage.)
Lidia: I know, but I want them bigger. It's all fun 'til someone gets poked in the eye and then it hurts.
Bite Me: And that's when the fun starts, huh?
Lidia: Sometimes. Um, listen, you're shady. Shady. We're going with your whole thing because you've got a tape recorder but it's shady. What is New Times, anyway?
Bite Me: It's the coolest weekly in the state. We've got a big office on Jefferson. Here's my card.
Lidia: Jefferson is not a street. The card says P.O. Box. P.O. Box. Not even a real street. People like me from the East Coast are not as gullible as people from the West Coast.
Laurel: (Suddenly finding her tongue. God bless her.) Jefferson runs parallel to Washington. We pass New Times every day on the way to work.
Lidia: We do? Bartender, I would like a chocolate martini. (Lidia is granted her request and proceeds to lap the chocolate off the side of the glass in what she apparently considers a sexy fashion.)
Bite Me: Ya know, you should eat at My Florist. It's great but heavy on the carbs. Not the place for those on the Atkins diet.
Lidia: I'm sorry. Do we look skinny?
Bite Me: Uh, no.
Lidia: I'm from Portugal. We eat. Thanks for the martini, beautiful chocolate man. (Yes, Lidia just called the African-American bartender a chocolate man. Judging from his look of horror, he didn't think she was referring to the martini.) Can I just tell you that you and your friend sitting across the bar watching us look like some married couple looking for extracurricular activity tonight? Shady. Shady. So shady. And your business card . . . uh, I make better ones off my printer, okay?
Bite Me: Well, my friend is gay, so that would be some kind of threesome. But thanks for thinking I'm so desperate for freaky sex that I made up a fake company to work for.
Lidia: I need to get a part-time job. I'd love to be a waitress.
Bite Me: You should be a Hooters girl.
Lidia: The only thing is my job travels me all over the place and I wouldn't have time.
Bite Me: That's Hooters' loss. What a shame. Hey, you could be a Bud Light girl at a lesbian bar.
Lidia: I'd have to get over my phobia of them touching me. Sorry, no lesbians. (Don't worry, Lidia, most dykes have an aversion to homophobic heifers anyway.)
As parlayed to Marnye Oppenheim