Friday, July 21, 2017

Holding Dad's Spit (and looking for my last shaker of salt)

"Okay, Dad, just like I did for Mom, here's your spittin' tube for the DNA test. Then we'll learn if you're a robot."

"My spittoon, huh?"

Dad wryly took the tube and started spitting. Maria was getting patties ready.

"How many should we put on the barbecue?"

"It's called a grill. Why do you keep calling it a barbecue??"

Dad looked over at me, and then went back to spittin'. As I watched him fill the tube with saliva, I thought of Mom. She had asked me recently if Dad was completely bald. Having not seen Dad in over a decade, Mom clearly has a mental image of Dad as looking like Mr Burns's older brother--a shriveled ghoul with two white hairs on his shiny skull. I told Mom that Dad still had a laurel wreath of luxuriantly curly copper-and-gray hair around his youthful millionaire face. He was in the prime of his life, he liked to crow. Mom was sad.

A familiar screech interrupted my voice-over narration. "Don! Should I put onions in the meat?"

"No, we put sliced onions on the burger. That's the American way."

"Oh, that's soo boring!"

Dad set down his tube. "Do what you want, then. Just..."

"No, I'll do it the American way," Maria said, making a face. "And do we have pickle relish and mustard? And do you want broccoli, Greg?"

Dad sighed over his spit tube.

"Just a bit more, Dad."

Just then Toots drove by in the golf cart outside. Toots waved at us and then crashed into a hydragenea bush.

"Here."

Dad thrust at me his gobbings.

"You're almost there, Dad. Dad! Wait!"

He ran outside. He helped Toots get the golf cart out of its tangle of vegetation. I examined the tube--his spit was close to the line, just one more maybe... Toots waved at me. I waved my tube hand, and a bit of wetness hit my face. OH JESUS JESUS did I just get some of Dad's saliva on me??

"Maria, do you have a scrubbing pad or some hydrogen peroxide emollient?"

"What?"

I found some steel wool and commenced to planing my cheeks. I finally had the chiseled looks I always wanted!

Dad came back inside.

"Toots is still learning to drive. Ha, ha."

"It wasn't my fault!"

"Should we toast the buns?!?!" Maria said.

I raised my drink. "Yes, to my glorious ass!"

Dad took the tube.

"Okay, Dad, just one more loogie should do it... Dad?"

Dad proceeded not to spit but to wax. "I remember when I was learning to drive my cinnamon-topped Bonneville coupe. It was just like that movie American Graffiti. Have you seen it? It's amazing the details in that movie. I don't know who did it, but they really knew the life back then..."

"It was Geo--"

"The people who put that movie together knew everything about how I lived back then! All of my friends were in that movie. I don't know who did it, but..."

"It was G--"

"Just amazing, whoever did it."

"George Lucas! George Lucas made American Graffiti!"

"What?"

"DON!" Maria screeched. "Are you putting the meat on the barbecue?!?!"

"Arrgh! It's called a grill!"

"Dad, just one more spit. Come on. You can do it."

"Right, right."

Finally I had all the spit I needed. I sealed it up in its UPS package, and then after a dinner of barbecued burgers, I decided to show Toots how to drive like a man. I got in the golf cart. But something was wrong with the brake pedal. The cart shot off the dock and plunged into the lake.

*HALP!! Glug glug. (Stupid lake...)*

Friday, July 14, 2017

Fourth Not Strong In This One

Today's Movie Minute takes place in a world where sharks fly out of the sky and continually, savagely attack Z-list actors. This world is also known as "Heaven."


After four movies, it becomes hard to care about taking another breath. It's also hard to keep it... interesting? Is that the English word I'm pretending to look for? Anyway, this new sharknado goes through a refinery and creates... wait for it (zzzz).... an oil sharknado! So instead of a tornado of air, it's a premium unleaded tornado. And it was a movie!

Then, upping its game, the tornado goes through a port-a-potty storage field. This creates a pissnado. The only way it can be defeated is with a giant toilet.

"Did someone say giant toilet?"

The turdnado tenderly brings together actors from every letter of the alphabet.

"You know what? Fuck you."

But wait! There's more!

"I want to have Tommy Wiseau's baby!!"

Most importantly, Ian Ziering is back. He pilots a ragtag pirate ship in an attempt to win back the girl of his dreams (not pictured). 

"Is that Johnny Depp up ahead? HARD TO STARBOARD"

He forgets how bad he is at everything, however.

 "WHERE'S THE GODDAMN HAZARDS?!?!"

Typically, the only true heroes are those who strip for money. These brave men (no women, that would be gross) save the day by bouncing sharks off their powerful moneymakers.

"We're going to need a bigger cock." 

You know the movie is good when the best part of it is a gossip columnist who appears for about three seconds in the background. NORM!!

"Is that the black Ghostbuster with Cher?? This is a hot tip!"

Friday, July 7, 2017

Arch For Arch's Sake

Zani was in my face. And in my lap.

She's our substitute librarian who's often substituting for various reasons. Skinny, winsome and wrinkly, she passionately believes in abolishing all notions of personal space. She thrusts her face nanometers from mine and exchanges biomolecular material as she chatters. And then there's her hair. A writhing mass of Medusa flaming snakes with henna-red bronze highlights made of bronze circus metal. Currently she was telling me about being attacked by crows.

"No, it's true! I was just a few blocks from here. You know the spot, on Fifth? Just on that corner? You wouldn't believe it..." She placed her talons on my shoulder. "These crows, just fifty of them, they attacked me! I was running for my life!"

"Maybe they thought your hair was a pomegranate," I said. "Or something similarly delicious."

"Oh! Then I saw a wounded deer. No, it's true!" Zani ran her crustaceaous fingers along my thigh. "I saw it! It was just there by the street in a little ditch. And the deer looked up at me."

"Maybe it was hiding from the crows?"

"Hey, tell me something. Do you think I can ask Karen if I can leave early today...?"

Todd was at the other desk. He stared at us.

"Zani," he said. "Zani!"

"What?"

He motioned with his gloved hands. "Step back from Greg a little. Give him some space."

"Oh! I'm sorry! You know, that's something I grew up with, just everyone in my family was talking in each others' faces." She held up her hands to each other to demonstrate faces adhering. "It hurts my feelings a little when you say that."

"It's okay," Todd said. "Just stop doing it."

After Zani tripped away as if being chased by a murder of crows, the topic turned to Waterworld. Todd said he went every day with his daughter.

"Isn't it a problem, with all the plastic and all?" I said smugly, thinking at last I had caught him in a contradiction. "Hmm, hmm?!"

"No, most of the slides are rubber. But the ones that aren't I wrap myself in a hemp blanket and slide down that way."

Todd stared at me beardily.

"I'm kidding."

"Oh! The very fact that I believed you for a second..."

"Ha, ha! You idiot!"

Donovan waved at us from the front entrance. "Come on! They're having a party!"

The Arts Festival was going on. Just outside the library was a mash, or a bash, of art monsters singing about feasting on the hot innards of babies. Or so was my understanding.

"We're coming to your town, we'll help you party it down!!"
(sung to Grand Funk Railroad(?))

I stood outside with Jonah and Donovan.

"Wait," Jonah said. "Is that Zani getting off the spaceship?? I can't let her see me eating this hot dog!!"

"No, it's just aliens coming to gang probe us."

"Oh, thank God."

Friday, June 30, 2017

Bottom's Nightmare

Today's guest blogger is Andy, of Greg n Andy fame. For once, someone else will be the butt of the jokes around here......

Oscopy not Ostomy


Due to Pence-care, colonoscopies are now warm and mandatory once you turn 50.  I put off seeing my primary Pence-care doctor for a couple of years just to stick it to “The Man.” And now “The Man” was about to stick it to me.

Everyone who has ever had a colonoscopy will tell you “The worst part is the preparation.”  They’re all wrong.  The worst part of a colonoscopy is shitting out everything you’ve eaten in the past 50 years.  I’m pretty sure I saw some Bubble Yum spiders and Tart and Tiny’s floating around one of my plentiful bowls.  Eventually, my leavings became yellowish water with a few coffee grounds mixed in for atmosphere. I went so often and voluminously, that I think I eliminated food I haven’t even eaten yet.  And that was just the night before.  The morning of the procedure was round two of the most violent fight since Hagler – Hearns.


I’m going to knock the crap out of you!

I made sure Amy drove to the clinic swiftly so that I wouldn’t have to pee-poop at a gas station or behind some burning bush (if it wasn’t on fire before I got there, it would be after.) At the clinic, I filled out my voluminous Pence-care forms indemnifying them against anything including C.H.U.D. (or C.H.U.D. the Bud) attacks during the procedure.


*Nothing* is staying down there anymore!

The nurse asked me how I tolerated the super bowel-prep concoction.  I told her it tasted odd but the worst part was it gave me a horrible case of diarrhea.  She was about to reprimand me when I winked my butthole to let her know I was joking.

I gowned up and waited for the procedure so they sent Amy back to keep me company.  When they opened up the curtain, I feigned a seizure.  Great laughs were had by all except for my doctor who was called in to quickly revive me. Luckily, he was already on his way with some forms for me to sign.  He pulled a pen out of his pocket and realized it was a thermometer.

Doctor: “Damn, some asshole has my pen."
Me: “I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Your anus sounds fine.

Finally, they rolled me back to the procedure room and my middle aged nurse absentmindedly discussed the music playing with a slightly younger assistant.  The song was “Hey Jude.” 

Nurse: “Who sings this?”
Assistant: “I’m pretty sure it’s Barry Manilow.”
Me: “It’s The Beatles.”
Assistant: “I’m not sure about that.”
Nurse: “I don’t really care for The Beatles.”
Me: “Can we cancel this right now?  I’m not sure I want anyone who ‘doesn’t care’ for The Beatles to be stick…”
Nurse: “Shut up! Roll over on your left side, and count down from 100.”
Me: “Sorry you have such a shitty job and taste in music. 100, 97, 94.  Uh did you say count down by 3’s? Uh 91, 90, fluffy carburetor, Helter, Skelter”

Doctor: “Just so you know, it’s perfectly normal to get an erection during a colonoscopy.”
Me: “I don’t have one.”
Doctor: “I was talking about me.”

Rimjob shot

Friday, June 23, 2017

The Man Beside Me

I was feeling a warm sensation on the side of my face. Like a pair of eyes staring at me...


Eyes that kept staring. Staring.


BORING INTO MY SOUL


I finally looked around. It was Todd. He and his beard didn't look happy.

"Uh... how's it going, h-hooker?"

"I'm mad at you."

Oh Jesus Christ no. "Why?"

"Because you never blog about me. I want to be in your blog!"

"So I have my mom who wants me to announce to everyone that she died just so she can avoid being in my blog--and then there's you."

"Yes! Yes! I want to be in your blog, Greggy! Come onnn!"

"Sorry. I have to blog about Mom. She's been giving Prozac to her dog Bingo, and now Bingo is going to write a tell-all memoir called I Can't Remember My Name-O."

"That's more interesting than me?"

"Oh, and my mom died. Did I tell you?"

A little later Todd came back from his break.

"I just busted a nut," he said.

"Mm?"

"Yeah, I busted open a nut and ate it. Then I came on it." Todd looked around to check if nosy, interfering customers were listening. "How's that?"

"How's what?"

"Will that get me in your blog? Please!"

"No."

Zani came rushing past the desk. "It smells horrible in here! Do you smell that?"

"Yeah, it smells like dick cheese." Todd shot me a look. He fiddled with his crotch. "Mm? Mm?"

"Sorry."

"Oh COME ON! What do I have to do?!?"

"Have you tried farting on a customer? That's always popular."

Todd grunted. Nothing in the chamber, apparently. He went back to reading the interwebs.

"Holee shit. Katie Perry now has 100 million followers on Twitter, more than anyone else. That's insane."

"Didn't she have to apologize for cultural appropriation?"

Todd looked at me. "Okay, Jabba. Dude, seriously, your tongue is hella big. The ladies must love you."

I lifted my hand to scratch my face, but then refrained.

"Anyway, wasn't it because she dressed as Pocohantas in a video?"

Todd swiveled around in his chair. "Dude, stop scratching your face! You're going to make yourself sick. And you need to trim your tragus hair. And you just licked your lips again, Jabba!"

"But is it offensive, I'm wondering? I mean, if you dressed up as Pocohantas for Halloween, would that be offensive?"

"If *I* went as Pocohantas? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Perv."

"You got me."

Todd shouted a laugh, a sonic wave shattering time and space. Customers looked up from their newspapers.

"Sorry. Hey, slunt," Todd whispered. "Will this get me in your blog??"

"No."

"You ding-dong!"

Anyone else have a burning desire to be in my blog?

Huh??

HUH??!


Friday, June 16, 2017

Land of the Hagar

On my way to Montrose I got pulled over for speeding. I immediately got out of my 1983 Fiero convertible and gave the copper a piece of my mind.

"Me and my buddy, Hamburglar, are really bummin', man!"

Clearly, The Man couldn't handle the power of my rockin'.

"Sorry I ran out of lube."

I just couldn't drive fifty-five because of my rebellious, freedom-loving nature. Also, I enjoy endangering lives needlessly. And then there's the matter of my hair. My long crinkly french-fried hair. I like to run my fingers through it. Along with my clown suit, my hair symbolizes that I'm a rebel, that I'm fighting against all those dumb traffic safety laws. (Sure, the song is lame. But let me ask: is it so lame that it's...... cool?) (No.)

In an effort to cool off from all my rebeling, I took a dip in the lake.

"HALP! My shins are drowning!"

Luckily I was saved by an adorable toddler. 

"Is that a statue of Sammy Hagar on top of that mountain...?"

On Saturday night we had a barbecue and then did something very, very important. We watched The Room. "Where did you get the money, Denny? WHAT KIND OF MONEY?!?" (etc.) Then, fully satisfied, I drove home. And my rebellion against the law ended where all such rebellions end: driving 25 mph while truckers pass me with contempt.

Here's a random picture of Salida, where I stopped for a wild, unconventional luncheon. The "S" stands for Sammy Hagar. (Jesus, people, give it a rest.)


I made it home safely where my lover was waiting for me with open, pneumatic arms.


THANKS, SARA!!

(And thanks to Andy for all the gratuitous Hagar!)

Friday, June 9, 2017

Miracle On The Creek

The library was full of kids. Summer was here and I was at my command post, overlooking the daily schedule. It was busy, but nothing we couldn't handle. My copilot, so to speak, was Jonah. He had long years of experience. Everyone sit back, relax, and enjoy the summer reading.

Wait-- I was getting a flashing alert sign on my schedule. We didn't have a reference librarian at the desk for the next hour. Oh, no.

Still, my white mustache was immaculate.

"Karen? We need more help at reference. Stat.
Wait, do airline pilots say stat?" 

Another light blinked on the console. I flipped switches. Wait, we're going to need those to land. Meanwhile Jonah was having a crisis. He had told Zani, our substitute librarian, that he was a vegan because he didn't want to eat the masticated bread she had been pushing on him in the break room. Now, with Zani here, Jonah had to act vegan all day!!

More lights. Beeping shit. The thruster just went out in the children's program. There wasn't enough food for all the kids! Now Genevieve had to turn parents and screaming parents away! Thank God my shirt was so crisp! And I better get an Oscar! I mean, a 5.

"Okay, okay, I think I've got this. I had 16 hours 
of Crucial Conversations. Come on, shared pool of meaning...!"

The printer wasn't working upstairs. And hungry children were wailing. I raced upstairs, pressed various buttons on the printer, and came down again to find children on fire. It looked like all was lost! But I was a hero. A goddamned hero. 

 "Okay, now's the time to panic, everyone!
Join me in screaming, on three!!!"

The sign-up table had lost its engine (a teen volunteer)! People needed holds! Hungry! Cupcakes! Story time! Reference shrieked, a hobo wailed, my schedule burst into pixels!

"Wheee!"

And yet, heroically, I remained calm. I had to. Library souls relied on my steady presence. Jonah asked what he should do, and I told him to keep making jokes!

"Lucky thing I got all my fiber this morning!"

And then the library crash landed on the Statue of Liberty. Something like that. All was saved. Children wept. I hugged myself. Everything was super except I was arrested for impersonating a pilot and a hero. 

"Sir! How do you keep your lips so tight?"

This blog post brought to you by Fiber Con.

"Ahhhhhh."