It's Monday, another absolutely perfect day in Rio and as always, my day begins by having breakfast with Felix. Since today is a weekday, I suggest the Felix that we walk down to Mondego for breakfast because that way we can watch the traffic patterns change at 10 a.m. and laugh at all the confusion. Felix doesn't quite understand what I mean so I just tell him to come along and enjoy the fun. As we're sitting there lots of beautiful girls walk by on their way to work and then we see an elderly man of about 85 years old shuffling along the sidewalk with a walker in front of him and the young lady on his arm assisting him. The closer they get, I notice that the young lady with him is rubbing his arm gently and patting him on the back. She finally leans over and kisses him gently on the cheek and I realize that she is not his nurse but rather his girlfriend or wife. She's absolutely beautiful, about 25 or 30 years old with a great body except a slightly large stomach.
The closer they approach us it becomes readily apparent that she's not fat at all but about five months pregnant. I'm suddenly envious of this guy because in 30 years I want to be in exactly the same position as he is right now. Brazilians sure do know how to enjoy life, don't they? Unfortunately, there's little confusion, no accidents and no deaths when they change the traffic patterns along Avenue Atlantico and Felix is somewhat displeased that I dragged him all the way over here for nothing. I told him I couldn't guarantee a show every day but if we keep coming back there eventually something interesting will happen. Felix was kind enough to buy breakfast and as he was paying the waiter he was peeling off a number of small bills. I asked him what he was doing and he explained that he wanted to get rid of a lot of his small bills because they were such a pain to carry around. “What the fuck are you doing, wait till you get caught somewhere with a R$ 50 note and nobody has change you’ll wish you had the small bills then,” I said like I knew what I was talking about. “Personally, I prefer the R$10 notes because most everyone can break them. Felix has a lot to learn, doesn’t he?
Felix tells me that he needs to get some laundry washed and a few shirts pressed and I suggest we both go to a nearby Laundromat to get our stuff cleaned. We quickly went back to our rooms got our clothes and met at the corner then preceded around the corner to the Laundromat. Before they would accept our clothes they wanted some information first. We had to give them our names, home address, airline, hotel and room number and finally our passport numbers. By the time we were finished I realized that this fucking Laundromat had more information on us than the Passport & Immigration Control at the airport. Suddenly I get a great idea about figuring out the direction of water flow in this hemisphere but almost dismiss it completely because of the risks involved. Then I think what is it with these Brazilian, why do they need so much innocuous information just to get your laundry done?
Back at the hotel I'm finally able to get Miss Bubble Lips up and, thank God her pussy doesn't hurt anymore. That's the good news; the bad news is she sure smells like Sasquatch. She doesn't want to take a shower before I fuck her and as I climb on top, she lifts her arms up to wrap around me and all I can think about is that incident 50 years ago in the Big Top. I guess I shouldn't complain; at least I was getting laid which meant I was probably one step ahead of Felix right now. Apparently I was wrong on that point because when we met Felix at the beach he told me that he had one of the best sex sessions he had ever had. Then he gave me the bad news, the next day was the Bimbo's birthday. Finally I met someone who had worse luck than me!
Travelsrr and Evil Twin joined us on the beach and after awhile Travelsrr turned to me and asked me, "What do you do for a living?" I told him that I am a Historian Emeritus and he got a very confused look on his face. "What the fuck is that?" Then I gave him my simple explanation: "Anybody who watches the History Channel for more than three hours a day is considered a Historian." Then he asked, "Well what about the Emeritus part?" I replied, "From what I understand, somebody who is an Emeritus doesn't work anymore, put the two parts together and that's what I do." He smiled politely then moved his chair the 3 feet further away from me. I wasn't upset that he moved away but just hoped that he would continue to keep a sharp eye out for that Terrorist Clown. Bimbo is burning up minutes on Felix's phone and he's getting pissed so I tell him once again to "dump her ass." He explains he can't because he just got the best sex in years just an hour before and he does want to give up the opportunity to nail her again today. First, he doesn't want to get rid of her because she won't have sex with him, now he doesn't want to get rid of her because she does but he knows there’s a high probability that she’ll start withholding sex soon. I'm confused, are you?
We decided to skip dinner because Miss Bubble Lips sent me to the supermarket to get some more olives and soap. Yes, this time I bought the right thing, soup! I also bought three bottles of red wine, we finished two of them then met Felix and the Bimbo and went to the movies to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I paid for the tickets and Felix sprung for sodas and popcorn. Fortunately, this popcorn was much better than the stuff they sell along the highway. After sitting in our seats, happily munching away on our popcorn and watching the previews a nice young couple came in and sat down next to me. The movie was great and Bubble Lips like the fact that I told her she looked like Angelina Jolie. She said our relationship was very similar to Mr. and Mrs. Smith's in that she often wanted to strangle me also. I wonder why she said that.
When the movie ended and the lights came on I got the fright of my life. Tigger was sitting right next to me and I remember thinking, what do I do now. Having a heart attack was out of the question and my knife was useless because my fingers were all greasy from the butter on the popcorn. As he stood up and looked down at me, I thought, here it comes a knife to the heart but instead he just turned away and exited the aisle. What's going on here I thought and then realized that this guy was about 3 inches shorter than Tigger but had the same god damn Unimed soccer shirt on. Needless to say, I'm on high alert and decided I better go the bathroom to wash off my hands in case I run into the real Tigger and need to deftly whip out my knife. As I'm in the john washing my hands, I look up in the mirror and suddenly I see Tigger coming out of the stall behind me. I damn near shit in my pants! Damn, I'm vulnerable again because my hands are all covered with soap then I see that it's not Tigger after all, just another tall thin Brazilian wearing that fucking Unimed shirt. Am I seeing things or is it just my overactive imagination running wild? Perhaps, a little of both! How many Brazilians own that fucking shirt!
This is what a Unimed shirt looks like.
Felix decides that he and the Bimbo are going back to his room so they can complete round two and we decide to go Help to meet another friend of mine who's flying in from Houston. As we go through the door, I hand my knife to the girl behind the counter and she puts it away as she's done the past three nights, and then we proceed into the club where we meet my friend standing at the top of the stairs. He's a great guy, I met him on my flight out of Rio in March and we had fun laughing about mistakes with both made and then we got serious, brought out our cameras and started looking at all the nude photos we each had taken. He's a confirmed terma guy, whereas I have been to a terma once. I introduced him to Miss Bubble Lips, he says she's beautiful and then immediately tells me that I should dump her and spend the rest my vacation doing termas with him. Bubble Lips hears this and goes off like a bottle rocket. I suggest we get some beers in an attempt to calm her down and, luckily this does the trick. After we finish our beers, she wants to go over by the dance floor to watch what's going on.
I see a gorgeous ass on the dance floor, it’s beautifully shaped and she really knows how to move it in a sensual and sexual way, then I think that I've seen that ass before. The dancing girl has her back to me and as she slowly turns around I get the third fright of the night -- it's Fawn. Quickly, I duck behind Bubble Lips, tugging at her arm and telling her that we have to leave immediately. As I start to slither towards the stairs, she says that she wants an explanation before we go any further. We're about 10 feet from the stairs, in plain sight if Fawn looks in this direction and I'm about ready to have another heart attack. "Honey, I'll explain as we walk," I said in a trembling voice. She could see that I was shaken and on edge more than usual so she decided to let me explain as we left the club.
As I was retrieving my knife, the woman behind the counter asked me, "What is that thing?" I told her it was a knife and with a flick of my thumb, the blade extended perfectly without even cutting me. Her eyebrows went up and it was then that I realized that I must be the only stupid son of a bitch who turns his knife in, everyone else takes theirs into the club. I must assume that their magnetic doorway is only there for larger items such as guns or machetes. Where was I? Running away from Fawn, if I remember correctly!
Outside the club I start getting the third degree and I now know what those prisoners in Gitmo go through. She was relentless, wanting to know every sordid detail of every relationship I ever had in Rio. I explained to her that I had met Fawn last October and seen her on several subsequent trips but it on this trip I was all hers. If I didn't really like her, why would I spend Namarada Day with her? Obviously, it was an extremely poor attempt at trying to make her feel special and to get her to stop interrogating me. It didn't work! Who else have you been with? How many termas have you been to? I lucked out when I answered "one" to that question. Why do you come to Rio? And on and on! I just wanted to get away from Help and back to the hotel as quickly as possible so I could talk to the night manager to tell them not to tell anyone that I was in the hotel. Luckily, my good friend Carlos was on the desk and with the help of R$20 any indication of me being in the hotel disappeared.
In the room, the interrogation continued in earnest, she was unrelenting and tenacious with the scope of her questions going far beyond just Fawn. I suggested we open a bottle wine because I knew that after she got a few glasses in her, her cognitive skills would quickly become somewhat diminished. Somehow she also found out about Roots, Lurch, the bodybuilder and Melissa, the 19 year old. Don't ask me how but somehow she did. It a total mystery to me, honest! "Drink more wine, Darling," I gently suggested. She already had two glasses and wasn't letting up at all and, then she suggested we go out on the balcony to continue our conversation. No fucking way I was going out there with her in this mood. I know I do stupid things but I try, not always successfully, to not put myself in any danger. The balcony was definitely out. By the third glass she was starting to get a little sleepy and was lightening up a little. Finally, around 3 a.m. I suggested we watch cartoons together, she agreed and fell asleep in my arms. God damned fucking Fawn!
Tuesday
I was up at 6 a.m., walking the beach and pondering what to do for the rest my vacation. I had several choices that seemed somewhat plausible. First, we could leave town and go to Miss Bubble Lips’ home which is up north by the equator, but then I thought better of that after recalling my last disastrous visit to Buzios. After reading my last report, someone on the board was kind enough to suggest that I never visit another girl's home because "why live in someone else's reality." I forget who that was but he's “one fucking smart philosopher.” Okay, that option is out, onto the next one. Secondly, we could hide out for a few days; see some of the sites that I have told everybody back home I have already seen and do whatever was necessary to stay out of Copacabana and off Fawn's radar screen. That seems like a good choice, but there’s still one more option. Last but not least, I could fly back to Philadelphia but that would mean that Fawn wins and, of course, I lose.
When I get back to the room at around 8 a.m. Miss Bubble Lips is pacing back and forth anxiously waiting to renew the interrogation. Suggesting wine at this hour the morning is out of the question so I ask her to go downstairs for breakfast with me. I don't really think she knows what breakfast is because she never gets up early enough to eat it, but we go down there anyway and grab a bite to eat. The questions resume over eggs and coffee continues through her fruit course and then I tell her that I have to leave to meet Felix at 9 a.m. for breakfast. "You just ate breakfast," she said. "I know I did Honey, but Felix really needs some help with Miss Bimbo, today is her birthday, remember," I said as I was running towards the exit door. Reluctantly she relented and before you knew it I was out on the street walking towards Felix's hotel scared to death that I would somehow manage to run in to Fawn. The breakfast interrogation is definitely making option number three look mighty inviting right about now.
I call Felix, he still asleep so we decide to change our daily routine and I go for another long walk figuring that Fawn's probably asleep also. When I get back to the room she's ready for round three and that's what I decide to put a stop to this nonsense. I ask her one simple three part question: "How many men have you been with, how long have you been on the programe and, finally, isn't sex your business?" She immediately wanted to change the subject and when that didn't work she told me she had to go the bathroom. Why hadn't I thought to say that last night? I could have saved myself a lot of trouble but then that's not in my nature as you guys probably already know. By the way, what in God’s name do women do when they hide out in a bathroom?
Reluctantly, she agrees to go to Sugarloaf for the day and we packed up my camera, have a taxi brought right to the door, jump in and leave Copacabana for the day. As you can imagine, Stealth Mode isn't very successful for me. Regardless of how I dress or where I am, I stand out like that Nun who walks on Copacabana beach. Given Fawn's record for finding me in the most unlikely of places, I have to somehow outsmart her or suffer the consequences. My three-part question effectively silenced Miss Bubble Lips and the rest of the day turned out to be an enjoyable and tranquil experience. I don't know if you ever been to Sugarloaf but it's absolutely fantastic. The vistas are phenomenal and the cable car ride is exhilarating. I didn’t see Jaws anywhere though. We took a lot of photos and now I have tons of shots to show my friends back home.
Nun on Beach
We got back to the hotel around 5 p.m. and as we're getting into the elevator a Japanese gentleman with a shopping bag hops in with us. The door starts to close but his bag hits one of the sensors and the door opens. Just as it starts to close, he tries to push the door close button but instead gets the door open button, once again delaying our trip. Then the bottom of his bag parts and everything he purchased at the pharmacy falls on the floor of the elevator. Miss Bubble Lips looks at me and says, "Does he remind you of anyone?" "Not that I can think of," is my thoughtful reply. "I didn't think so," she said with a huge smile on her face. What was that all about as I struggled to think of someone as inept as this asshole in the elevator with us? As we stepped out of the elevator on our floor she said, "Still thinking about it, aren't you?" "Si," I replied. "No one similar," again she queried. "Nope!" Brazilians are so fucking obtuse sometimes.
When we get back to the hotel we learn that Michael Jackson has been acquitted. As we're told everyone gets a confused look on their face but then we remember that the trial had a California jury and now the decision makes complete sense. In the lobby of the hotel I see a familiar face and sure enough, it's one of the guys that Harry was with on his last and final trip to Rio. I asked him what happened to Harry and he said that he is still here in Rio; his family didn't have the money to get his body back to the states so they buried him here. What a lovely thought, always being in Rio, I know Harry would've appreciated that. We go to the room and since I'm tired from going up to Sugarloaf and being under all the stress from avoiding Fawn, I decide to take a short nap and as I slip off I think of two things, Harry and Michael Jackson. Before I tell you about my dream I have to give you a little background information. First of all, I'm not very religious but very spiritual; by that I mean that I believe in God, but not in the fact that to reach him I have to go through some organized religion. I pray daily to God and He always answers my prayers -- usually with a resounding "No," but he answers nevertheless. Now as I’m drifting off, I feel myself lifting off the bed and rapidly heading towards heaven.
I'm at the Pearly Gates and for some strange reason they don't want to let me in right away. I demand to see the Boss and within seconds, he standing there right in front of me saying, "What are you doing here and what do you want?" I tell him that I'm trying to get in and he chuckles just like Santa Claus. He tells me that I don't have much of a chance of getting in. I decide to take another tack and then tell him, "I'm as innocent as OJ and Michael Jackson!" Once again he chuckles like Santa Claus. Shit, I'm going to need some help here so I ask to have some proper legal representation. He agrees. I ask for Johnnie Cochran because he got both of those guys off and then the Boss tells me, "He's not up here." "What do you mean he's not up here," I ask remembering all those kind and glowing things that Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton said about him; he has to be here. "Nope," is his reply. Apparently, there aren’t many lawyers up here-- go figure? Damn, now what do I do? Then I remembered that in my past life I used to be a pretty good negotiator and I figure, what the Hell, I can go head-to-head with this Guy, he's not so tough.
We agree to some ground rules, He will send me back and for every condition I set, he gets to set one, but He has the ability to end the negotiations at any time and we both have to live with whatever conditions have already been set. All right, I know I'm going back so what do I ask for first? I want to have plenty of money. Agreed. Then he states that I'm going to be overweight. I reluctantly agree because that's a condition I can live with especially when I spring my trap on him. I want to be healthy. Agreed. You will not be pretty; as a matter of fact you will be ugly. Oh shit, He's putting conditions in I never anticipated but he'll be surprised soon and regret going head to head with me. Reluctantly, I agreed again. This is where I thought I had Him; I told him that I wanted to live in Copacabana. He readily agreed, too readily I thought. This was when he totally outsmarted me, reducing me to a blithering idiot -- all He said was three words followed by three more words -- "You're a woman." "End of negotiations!" I screamed! What’s more fucking worthless on this earth than a fat ugly woman in Rio -- talk about Hell on earth. The only fat ugly women I see in Copacabana are the ones selling panties on the beach. God damn it! "Oops, that didn't help my cause either, I remember thinking. I suddenly woke up covered in sweat, panting and white as a ghost and Miss Bubble Lips stopped watching cartoons, turned to me and said, "Dreaming of Fawn?" God damn fucking bitch, they always kick you when they know you're down.
Later that night Felix calls wondering what happened to us. I told him that Fawn was in town and that I was going to keep out of sight for the next couple of days. He agreed that this was probably the best course of action. At around 10:00 p.m. Miss Bubble Lips said she was hungry and wanted to go to Amirs, and Arabian restaurant, for dinner. This was the same place I went to with Sandman when I ran into Fawn back in October and was naturally a little reluctant to tempt fate a second time. She persisted and I finally relented. Once again a taxi was brought right up to the hotel door, we hopped in and he drops us off around the corner from Amirs. Luckily there's no wait but the place is very crowded with only a few empty tables.
She's wearing a thin leopard print top that not only reveals her ample cleavage but also highlights her large erect nipples. It's cold outside by Brazilian standards, which means it's only 72°F and her body is reacting accordingly. Amirs is a small restaurant with numerous tables for two arranged in neat rows with about a centimeter separating each table. We are seated in the middle of a row consisting of about six tables, right next to an upscale couple who are in their late 50s. Miss Bubble Lips sits down next to the gentleman and he barely glances over, initially that is. He has bushy eyebrows like Brezhnev but, unfortunately for him, as expressive as Sean Connery's. Watching him closely I notice an interesting and unforgiving reflect reaction, about a millisecond before he looks over, he telegraphs the maneuver by arching his left eyebrow.
Since I'm sitting right next to his wife and across from him, I sit back, relax and wait to see someone other than me royally fuck up. The wait isn't long. Arched eyebrow, quick glance to the left, eyes dark towards wife to see if he's caught, another arch of the bushy eyebrow, another look at her hardened nipples, back to his wife etc. etc.. This goes on for about five minutes and then the wife calls over the waiter, words are spoken, shocked glances exchanged primarily directed at us, plates are removed and the couple proceed to another empty table in the back next to the restroom. Now my dinner entertainment is "kaput," but I'm glad to see the snobs go. What the hell, working girls have to eat somewhere don't they? Do we go to Help that night? No fucking way!
Wednesday
The next day Felix and I meet up for breakfast as usual and we walk down to Mondego to watch all the confusion at 10 a.m. Nothing happens again other than some slight confusion when they start redirecting traffic patterns. No accidents, no pedestrians hit. Felix is really disappointed and then he starts telling me what happened yesterday. Apparently, Bimbo's birthday was great for her but not for Felix. He didn't get laid, blown or anything. Once again I tell him to get rid of her and once again he says he's going to get even but there other factors affecting his decision making process. Felix purchased a flight and hotel package on SkyAuction.com and paid less than $800 for round trip airfare and hotel for 10 days. Christ, I paid $800 in airfare alone! That’s the good news; the bad news was that his hotel wasn’t particularly “guest” friendly. He was told he could check in only one guest for the entire time or else pay R$100 for each subsequent guest. This factor weighed heavily in his decision to keep the Bimbo around. `Where was I? Oh yeah, having breakfast. Unfortunately, we have been reduced to this horrid daily routine. Pitiful, isn't it! In an effort to put a little fun in our vacation we decided to take the girls up to Corcovada, you know where the statue of Jesus Christ is way up on top of a mountain overlooking Rio de Janeiro.
Sandman's gracious enough to arrange for a driver and guide but I think he has an ulterior motive. I suspect he believes that if I arrange the field trip, we will somehow wind up on the mountain behind Corcovada, you know the one with all the TV and radio antennas on it. He has absolutely no faith in my ability to plan and execute anything and for the life of me; I don't know where he got that idea. We have a great time up there, the statue is huge and I mean huge. Looking at the statue I remember thinking, this is probably as close to Christ as I'll ever get and as close to heaven as I'll ever be. Then I remember yesterdays dream and start to drift of into deep thought. Miss Bubble Lips nudges me and bring me back to reality. But that dream really bothers me. Then I just hope I don't run into either Tigger or Fawn because probably both would like to send me to my maker immediately. We take more pictures; have lots of laughs and then a torturous trip down the mountain in a taxicab with suspect brakes. I'm starting to feel a little more relaxed but still worry that Fawn is somewhere down in Copacabana waiting for me to pop up on her radar screen. It's truly uncanny how that woman can track me down but I'm determined to defeat her at her own game. Miss Bubble Lips has totally forgiven me for my past indiscretions and she's more affectionate than ever. When we get back to the room she attacks me, fucking my brains out and I roll off and fall into a sound sleep.
Within minutes of waking up there's a knock on the door, I hide in the bathroom and tell Miss Bubble Lips to answer the door for fear that Fawn is standing on the other side of it. I hear a familiar voice, American and male so I come out of the bathroom and who's standing in my living room but Travelsrr. If he only knew how much he just scared me, he would be laughing for the rest of the day. He tells me he stopped by to make sure I was all right because he hadn't seen me at the beach and, with my luck; well, let’s just say he was concerned for my safety. I suggested we go out on the balcony to talk so that she could enjoy her cartoon show in peace and quiet. He told me that the clown was looking for me, an ominous thought for me but he once again told him to stay away from me.
He asked me why I wasn't going down to the beach and I told him that Fawn was in town and I was trying to avoid her at all costs. I told him I was "going to the mattresses" just like in the movie the Godfather. He said was strange that I should use that imagery because I reminded him of one of the characters in the movie. I think he said his name was Fredo, he told me he was the son who protected the Godfather when they tried to assassinate him in Little Italy. He said that the way Fredo handled that gun in that scene is precisely the way I act at times. Since I haven't seen the movie in many years and only have vague recollections of it, I was pleased that he would associate me with such a macho character. Isn't he the son that got shot at the toll booth? Yeah, I'm sure that's him. Travelsrr such a great guy and a keen judge of character too.
Wednesday
I Don’t Have To Get Out of Bed to Fuck up!
Today starts off great with a call from American Express asking me if I'm trying to buy a cooking appliance similar to a George Foreman grill. I'm smart enough to know it's one of my friends from the states who are trying to mess with my mind by having a secretary or perhaps his mistresses call me as a practical joke. Then I thought it was some weird marketing scheme because everyone knows that although there's a kitchen in every apartment at the Princess Copacabana, the gas is turned off to the stove and there are no pots and pans to cook in. I found that out the hard way, but that's a story for another time. Where was I? Oh yeah, somebody's pretending they're from AMEX on the phone with me in Rio it's 3 a.m. and they are asking me something about a grill. They want to fuck with me, well, I'll fuck them right back so I say, "Sure I'm stuck in Rio with a beautiful woman who wants the fuck my brains out and I figured I'd order the grill to cook her a romantic dinner so I can get some more pussy." "Pardon me," is her extremely cold reply. Ha ha, I got her that time. "We're calling because there are a large number of suspicious attempts to complete transactions on your card. Are you attempting to buy this item?" "Of course it isn't my charge, you dumb bitch," I reply. "Excuse me," is all she can manage to answer.
I'm getting a little tired of this game, I'm half drunk and horny with Miss Bubble Lips lying next to me naked and its three fucking a.m. in the morning so I tell her to put whatever friend of mine put her up to this on the phone so I can ream his ass out. "Pardon me," is all her limited vocabulary can manage. I remember thinking; she has to be someone's dumb mistress, because secretaries are smarter than this bitch. I then proceed to tell her that I'm far more intelligent than she is because how in God's name would AMEX know how to locate me in Rio. "Because our records indicate when you made your last payment over the phone you told us you are going to Rio," she said. "Good fucking guess," I replied. "Okay sweet cheeks, how did you know what hotel I was staying in?" I knew I got her with that question as I smirked with glee. "Because the hotel put a deposit charge of R$2000 on your card when you check in last week," she quickly responded. This girl was good, but I was better, much better and I knew it.
"Okay honey, how many replacement cards have I had in the last two years," I said, knowing that that one would stump her completely. "Give me a moment," she said as I heard typing in the background. "Three cards," is her amazingly accurate response. Perhaps I overreacted, maybe she is from AMEX so I start to backpedal a little but she's not going to let me off the hook easily. She wants me to pay for my numerous errors and pay big time. "You have an interesting history with us, especially that incident last year in Sao Paulo at that restaurant," she said in an almost hissing tone. Fuck, I think that in a nanosecond she’s going to yank my card and smile all day long. "You're not going to take my card, are you?" "I'd love to," is her overly pleasant reply. The thought of not having my card anymore terrifies me, especially since everyone else in Rio apparently has my credit card number and is trying to use it. "What do you want me to do?" I'm just hoping her response isn't too drastic like telling me to jump off my balcony or something like that and that's when she says, "Just bring your card to the office in Copacabana early in the morning so we can verify that you still have it in your possession." I then pleaded, "You don't plan to use this phone call for training purposes, do you?" "We'll see," is all she says and then I hear -- click. Apparently, someone got my card number when I threw away a receipt without tearing it up first. In Brazil, they type not only your credit card number on the receipt, but also your expiration date. The only thing missing is that four digit security number. The fucking banditos were calling in trying to guess it correctly. Don't throw away your receipts, I learned the hard way.
