Oh, the FA. You all know him or have heard of him. You know that guy who’s always quick to point out his new waterfall or new home theater in his basement? Yeah, well some magazine decided they were going to honor a bunch of financial advisors and God knows why or how but the FA ended up being mentioned under the heading of “Celebrating the Greatest Ponzi Scheme in Waukesha County!” I don’t know how he got nominated. If they had called me I might have given him a 7.5 on his blowjobs but I don’t think the 13% returns he got me before this whole “I decided to stop paying my mortgage” crisis happened would really earn him this nomination. (Really, before all this crap started happening I was getting 12%-14% nearly every year, making me wonder about the Ponzi scheme. Oh, and I fucked up, I would have given the FA’s wife a 7.5, the FA was only a 4.) In reality he does a good job but they didn’t have to stroke his ego to make it even bigger than it is. I haven’t seen him this high since he got that penis enlargement surgery a couple years back.
Being the good financial advisor that he is he held a dinner get-together for his clients in celebration of this honor. He reserved a room at a rather nice Italian restaurant in Waukesha and had a never ending table of fine Italian food for his guests. More importantly he had a quarter barrel of beer and free wine for the ladies. I don’t know who won the race, the Renter with a plate of food or me with two beers in my hands. It was a close tie. They even had two big screen TVs in the room on which the FA had the Brewers game playing (a much needed infusion of baseball after the All Star break). I was bound and determined to finish off the barrel. Then Renter knew the rules; we weren’t leaving till there wasn’t any beer left. And boy did I make a good effort. The party wrapped up around 8:00. The Renter and I carried four beers out to the bar to watch the last of the game and the FA brought out a full pitcher. 9:00 came, the game was over, the barrel wasn’t empty but yours truly was done. Hardcore slamming for three hours pretty much did me in.
This morning I woke up with a swollen ankle. Apparently after the Renter and I left the restaurant we hit Walmart in hopes of getting a new fire pit for the deck. I remember the Renter making abrupt turns in Walmart and me bumping into her.
Today I’m visibly limping but I have a container with about 30 mozzarella sticks in it.
Congratulations, FA, oh, and that $5k check for the Roth is in the mail (fifth time I've told him this).
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