Picking Up Valerie Bertinelli's Sister - Hitchhiking.

1984. The summer of the LA Olympics. I was spending the summer in LA. I had met and befriended this guy while I was in the Army in Germany from 1982 to 1984.

We were complete opposites - so naturally we became fast friends. He was from a wealthy family and the only thing we had in common was our love for Beatles music.

I had been in LA a few weeks and one night at around 2 or 3 AM, we were driving through Beverly Hills.

As our car was traveling down the street, we noticed two people walking on the side of the road.

It was two girls. One girl was dressed in a gorgeous (and probably very expensive) evening gown and heels while the other was wearing a t-shirt, ripped jeans and sneakers. Two total opposites. And they were hitchhiking!

As we approached these two girls at 2 or 3 AM in the morning, my friend and I turned to each other. With big smiles on our faces we slowed to a stop next to the two girls. (I'm sure we were both thinking we were going to get lucky.) (Two girls, two guys, what could go wrong? What else could happen?)

I rolled the window down and asked the girls if they needed a ride. As they turned to look at us, I noticed that the girl in t-shirt and jeans looked familiar - very familiar - even though she appeared disheveled and ah - somewhat dirty - not sexy - but dirt, grime and - dirt.

The girls said "yes." I almost couldn't contain my excitement thinking the stars had aligned in my favor this evening.

As the girls climbed into the back seat - of our little 2 door - it suddenly hit me who this girl in the jeans and t-shirt was - it was Valerie Bertinelli!

The girls settled into the back and we got going again. As the car began to accelerate, I asked "Aren't you Valerie Bertinelli?"

The girl in jeans and t-shirt replied "No," and my heart shrunk a bit, "that's my sister," she said, and my heart lifted again - maybe I could meet Valerie Bertinelli through her sister were my thoughts - maybe I would ask in the morning when we were driving the girls home - fully expecting them to spend the night - of course.

The girls gave us directions to their destination - another party in Beverly Hills they said - and we chatted for a few minutes. Then the back seat became oddly quiet.

Strange noises began to come from the back and again my friend and I turned to each other - this time with quizzical looks on our faces. He turned back to driving as I turned to surmise what was happening in the back seat.

Just as I began to turn around, a dirty sneaker slapped into the windshield. One of the girls giggled. And then a dirty, torn sock found its way to the front. Another sneaker dropped in between the front seats. My friend and I looked at each other. "What the heck is going on?"

As I was attempting to establish some theory as to what was going on in the back seat, the white evening gown draped itself over my head.

The girls in the back seat began laughing and then all hell broke loose. Over the next five or ten minutes, every article of clothing the girls were wearing found its way to the front of the car. Everything!

I glanced back again to see two naked bodies heavily making out with each other. "Darn!" I thought, "two naked beautiful women in my car and they're lesbians, just my luck!" Needless, to say I was deeply disappointed. I thought, "Does Valerie know her sister is gay?"

About 45 minutes later - in the Hollywood Hills - not Beverly Hills as the girls had said, we pulled up before a home. The girls were redressed by now and they climbed out of the car, saying goodbye and thanks and waving to us as we drove away. Little did I know at the time, this wasn't the end.

Two days had passed and my friend said his cousin had called and she needed a ride home from work.

As we were waiting outside of her workplace, this girl walked out. I recognized her. It was Valerie Bertinelli's sister! She saw us and she began to walk toward the car. I thought she simply recognized us because we had given her a ride home a couple of days earlier.

As she approached the car my friend said, "Well, let her in." "What?" I got out of the car and as she climbed into the back seat, both her and my friend began laughing hysterically.

"Ok, what's going on?" I asked.

Valerie's "sister" answered, "I'm not Valerie Bertinelli's sister," she said, "I'm Kevin's (my friend) cousin, I don't think Valerie even has a sister!"

Both began to laugh hysterically again. I never found out if picking up the girls was a setup from the beginning, or they just took advantage of the situation when I assumed she was Valerie's sister. I asked, but all I got was smiles.

Getting a Tip for Playing Piano - "What's a Piano?" I Said.

I was staying at a Hollywood hotel. I had been there 2 or 3 days attending a seminar. I was on a "working vacation," - my favorite kind - and I was going to stay an extra couple of days after the seminar to tour LA.

The day after the seminar, after dinner, I had had a few too many drinks at the bar.

The piano player went on break taking his tip money but leaving his tip jar behind.

"Ah - ha!" I thought, "my opportunity." Several people were in the bar, including a woman nearly as inebriated as I. As I staggered up to the piano, I could feel people staring.

I have no idea how to play piano, never had a lesson, still don't know how to play.

As I sat down on the bench, I stretched my arms and fingers like I had seen on tv cartoons and in movies.

Taking a deep, loud, breathy breath, I swung my arms up over my head and then slammed ny fingers down on the keys. Ouch is probably the only term that comes to mind to describe the "music" that resounded throughout the bar.

Over the next few minutes, I imagined myself as a great pianist, playing the piano with great (drunken) enthusiasm, but making the most hideous noise imaginable.

The bartender just watched; I wasn't damaging the piano and perhaps he was amused to see a patron pound away on the ivories making such a fool of himself.

I was nearing the end of my "set" when the very inebriated woman at the bar (in a white gown) stood up and staggered to me.

Placing a few dollars in the jar she mumbled something like "good job."

I stopped, stood up, reached in and grabbed the dollars and got another drink at the bar just as the regular pianist returned.

$108,000 in 10 Weeks

$108,000 in 10 weeks. Ok, this is a little odd.

I had taken a class in internet marketing and I had just returned from a wealth seminar in Seattle.

I did a few months of research and based on my findings, I built a website. And that was the end of my money - I had no money left to do any advertising. And working at US Airways, (2006) there was barely enough money coming in anyway.

The website was up and almost immediately - with no marketing - sales began to come in. I had dropped a line in a pool of starving fish. Very important.

I began processing sales and cash was coming in so fast that I had trouble establishing the rate of cash flow - well - I was unable actually, it was totally beyond my abilities - there was just too much cash and it was coming in and going out at too rapid a pace.

After a few weeks, I realized that my bank account seemed to be shrinking instead of growing. At first it bothered me and I thought maybe something was wrong, but then I decided that it was just a temporary glitch due to sales and processing of those sales.

Another few weeks passed and as I watched my bank account near zero, I did some rapid recalculation. I was losing money! The charges for processing sales exceeded the income I was receiving from the sales.

After 10 weeks, I suspended operations. I had received over 300 sales and $108,000 - but my expenses were $117,000! Ooops!!!! Not a good thing.

Needless to say, my customers were not happy when I suspended operations, but I honored all sales - even though I had to borrow money.

I also didn't realize until a couple of weeks after suspending operations that one of the processors I was using - Paypal - expressly prohibited what I was doing and as a result, they laid claim to the last sale of $1500.

What was I doing? I was transferring money in Paypal accounts to egold.

My Song Was on the Radio!

In the mid 90's I was a journalist for "Entertainment Source" magazine - a central Mass. local magazine featuring arts and entertainment and reviews of movies, clubs, bands and movies.

Upon learning that I was an assistant manager for the band "Black Rose Garden," the publisher asked if I would be willing to start a band management business with her. Naturally I said "Yes." This became "Flair Management."

We did this for a couple of years and toward the end - in the mid and late 90's - I began to write song lyrics. I sold some of these lyrics to bands in the Boston area and a couple bands in the midwest. I sold all rights - which means I would not be eligible for accreditation or royalties on any song.

A band manager/producer in Boston asked me for several songs. I interviewed the manager/producer (Robin) to establish a feel for the band so I could tailor songs to their style and taste.

Robin had a very androgynous voice, I couldn't tell if Robin was a he or she. By discreet questioning I established that Robin was a female from Russia. And then she assured me she was a female. I needed that info because Robin suggested that she might sing with the band from time to time and I didn't want a male singing a song I had written for a female or vice versa.

One day, I sold a few songs to Robin and I knew that at least a couple of them were really good. We talked about two of the songs and I hummed and thumped to relay the melody and percussion I imagined for each song.

Robin bought a handful more songs over the next year - long after my association with Flair Management had ended - and then I moved to Phoenix (1997) severing my ties with Massachusetts and Boston bands.

A few years later, in 2005, a friend and I were driving home from work and a song came on the radio. I immediately began singing the song without ever "hearing" it before - because I had written it! It was one of the songs I had sold to "Robin" years before. They had left the song exactly as I had written it along with my humming melody and my thumping version of the percussion.

The song was "Wait" by Earshot. And "Robin," I found out, was a male.

You can watch the music video for "Wait" on Youtube - "Wait"

When I Was James Bond

I made a movie once during a film course I was taking. Titled "James Bond, Retired," it featured me playing James Bond with my friend Skip as the arch villain and my friend Dave N. as James Bond's assistant. Never finished the movie, don't remember exactly why. I had about 4 hours of raw film that I wanted to edit down to about 45 minutes. Worcester Airport offered me the use of their airport (which I accepted) and even a 737 if I wanted it (which I didn't accept) - try seeing if that would happen today! Almost had a free caterer and limos - almost. lol

The movie was about James Bond retiring to America to live with his daughter accompanied by his long time assistant. Of course, the bad guys find out and since James is no longer associated with Her Majesty's Secret Service, they decide to assassinate him as revenge, believing James will have no aid or help from the formidable resources of Q. Of course we had a beautiful woman (S.) and numerous extras including a woman playing James Bond's sister and her son.

The movie was scheduled to air on several local access stations in central Mass, when (if) I ever finished it, but that never happened.

It was fun, might even do it again, but I won't play James Bond this time - Skip is a much better James and I'm a much better villain.

11 Books and Counting

11 books and counting. So far, I have self-published 11 books and I have 2 more in the research stage. If I keep up at this, I figure a major publisher Has to pick me up eventually, right??

You can find 8 of my books here "Books by Perry Jones"

Invite to a Party - At the Playboy Mansion

Twice in Phoenix and once since I have been back in Massachusetts. Not much more to say; I didn't go, but I would have if I could have. Scheduling and money got in the way.