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Strategies & Market Trends : Market Gems:Stocks w/Strong Earnings and High Tech. Rank -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: nokomis who wrote (90340)	3/28/2000 5:26:00 AM
From: lee kramer	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 120523

(OT)NOKOMIS: I'm down in the Caribbean. "Pepperland" south I call it. I have a jeep waiting not far from the airport. After I check in I hit the bed and sleep. A lot. I feel like Rumpilstilskin, the guy what slept twenty years. DAY 1: I hit the beach by 10:00 am. Heaven. I swim. I get some sun, I body-surf. But do I get "lucky" so I can "relax" as Suzy and Dortmunder suggest? Nope. After three hoursI head back, 'cause too much sun the first day can lead to a nasty burn. I take my table at the funky open-air place for lunch. They all know me there. The blond waitress walks over to take my order. We talk a while. I tell her my problem; I wanna find a girl and "relax" 'cause the markets's kinda getting to me. "I'll keep an eye peeped out for you, poor boy. Don't worry, You'll "relax" tonight." I am overjoyed, leave her a 30% tip. I fall by a few hours later to see my "relaxer." The blonde waitress walks over to me, shrugs her shoulders, says "Nothing yet. Sorry. Not to worry though. Come back in a few hours. Trust me...you're gonna really "relax" tonight." My spirits soar. I'm back two hours later, filled with expectation. Sarah, the blond waitress, shrugs again. I'm getting the picture. I sleep alone that night...unrelaxed. I toss, I turn. I dream a lot. Always about MARKET. I'm gonna hustle over to Sarah the blond waitress. She PROMISED I'd relax. I don't log-in, I don't check any prices. I just wanna relax a bit. "Sarah's not here" they tell me. Try later. I weep, slouch and shuffle out. But I'll be back I holler. Nobody cares. I go to the beach with the Fund Manager. He knows my er, little problem. Lo and behold a beautiful girl, alone, sits close to us. The Fund Manager says, "Think I'll take a walk. See you in an hour or so." The beautiful girl asks me for the time. I tell her. Five-minutes later she asks me for a light for her French cigar. I oblige. She offers me a chilled glass of Dom Perinon, '59. We clink glasses and she offers a roast. "To l'amour" she coos. Now I haven't been in French class for a lotta years...but l'amour, I remember. Maybe I'll get lucky and "relax" tonight? I wish I'd drowned the Fund Manager. The beautiful girl and I have a wonderful conversation for maybe half an hour. She asks what I do. "I'm a trader, a day-trader" I tell her. She is entranced, moves coser, wants to know all about it. I tell her...with a few embellishments. "And you?" I finally ask, 'cause I'm a polite guy. "Oh" she says. "I'm an artist. I love to paint interesting faces. You have a very interesting face. And when I'm not painting I very much enjoy making love." She speaks with a French accent. I love French accents. "Oh my" I'm thinking,"I AM GONNA GET LUCKY AND REALLY RELAX." Just then I hear footsteps in the sand, my friend the Fund Manager no doubt. I look up. It's not the Fund Manager. It's a guy maybe six-two, a hundred and eighty. He has a slender well-tanned body. And a VERY INTERESTING FACE. The beautiful girl who loves to paint and make l'amour gives him a big kiss. Three minutes later when the kiss and embrace are completed the beautiful girl says "This is Pierre my lover." Pierre, schmeer I'm thinking. I'm back to unlucky and unrelaxed. My Fund manager friend returns. "Let's go" I say, much to his amazement. We get back to our lodgings and I log-on immediately, check my prices. My longs are down, my shorts are up. (Lee) (More later...if I don't drown myself)