April 2007 Archives

RIP Hippos, 2005-2007

I'm happy to report my 3-year-old used the toilet the other day. Sadly, it was to flush some plastic animals.

Here are 2 cheetahs that were found still "swimming" in the watering hole. Apparently they didn't make it down because they were blocked by the 3 plastic hippos that did. I can only hope the cheetahs recognize the sacrifice those brave hippos made.

My wife fished out the survivors (glamorous), washed them off and left them on the counter. The next morning my son saw them and said "Hey, my cheetahs. I thought I flushed those."

I hate to brag about my kids, but my 3-year-old has tested at the 4th grade level for being a dick.

On the Corner of Nightmare and Porcelain

Technology is advancing at an incredible pace. I can fit 80,000 songs in my pocket. My kids can video-chat with their grandfather on the other side of the country. I can cool any beverage with small squares of frozen water. It's a remarkable time to be alive.

But it all begs one, single, pressing question...

Why, at the Cat & Fiddle Pub, must I stand shoulder to shoulder with other guys and pee into a giant sink?

The "sink" I'm referring to is a "trough." And for the uninitiated, that's basically a very wide public urinal that a few establishments (despite us not living in Ancient Rome) still offer to their male patrons.

I realize that a lot of guys don't see this as a big deal. But what those guys are forgetting is, I'm a crybaby pee-shy bitch.

By the way, the only thing worse than the trough is the rare and elusive: "trough mounted in the center of the room". This allows guys to take a leak FROM BOTH SIDES AT THE SAME TIME. Call me a prude, but peeing gets less fun as staring deeply into some dude's eyes becomes an option.

My heart sank as I walked into the restroom of the Cat & Fiddle Pub last week and saw two shoes under the only stall door. When that stall is occupied, all that's left is the trough.

Luck, however, might have been on my side that night because nobody else was in restroom except for the asshole in the stall. I decided to roll the dice and unzip.

Everything was working out fine, until the complete and utter lack of bladder cooperation kicked in. A small team of beavers might as well have built a dam in my pee hole.

10 seconds went by, then 20. Then another guy came in and made his way up to the other end of the trough.

Here's where I start to feel like there's an extremely finite amount of time I can now stand there not doing anything before I look like a mental patient. Luckily there is a technique I've learned to help in these situations: Multiplication.

I don't know why it works, but it usually does. I started multiplying numbers in my head and a few seconds later the flood gates slowly opened.

I was nearly done, and it was only then did I realize the new guy at the other end of the trough was still standing there, totally not peeing. Very much like a mental patient.

I thought about mentioning the multiplication trick as I was leaving. But then I thought, "Hee hee, WHAT A PUSS," and walked out.

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Jelly-Roll Explained

In the previous post I mentioned a quote from Scott Schwartz about the recently deceased film director, Bob Clark...

Scott Schwartz, who played Flick in "A Christmas Story" and kept in touch with Clark, called Clark one of the "nicest, sweetest guys that you'd ever want to come in contact with."

"It's a tragic day for all of us who knew and loved Bob Clark," Schwartz said. "Bob was a fun-loving, jelly-roll kind of guy who will be sorely missed."

I could tell it was nice, but was curious as to exactly what he meant by a "jelly-roll kind of guy."

After a few very pleasant emails with Scott himself, here's his explanation...

Steve,

A jelly-roll kind of guy... it's one who's got a little belly on him, smiles and brings joy to those he loves.

Bob was a great man, and I'll miss him.

See? Nice.

Baked Goods Metaphor Help Needed

| 70 Comments

As you probably heard, the director of "A Christmas Story" and "Porky's" passed away. I love "A Christmas Story" deeply, so this was sad news.

I had read this quote about the man:

Scott Schwartz, who played Flick in "A Christmas Story" and kept in touch with Clark, called Clark one of the "nicest, sweetest guys that you'd ever want to come in contact with."

"It's a tragic day for all of us who knew and loved Bob Clark," Schwartz said. "Bob was a fun-loving, jelly-roll kind of guy who will be sorely missed."

This is all terribly sad, but can anyone tell me what a "jelly-roll kind of guy" means? Does it mean he's a regular guy? A sweet, fat guy? Maybe I'M a jelly-roll kind of guy? I've never heard that expression before and I'm honestly curious. I'm assuming it's a good thing.

The comment board is open closed.

(For the record, I'm a "bacon, boobies and robots" kind of guy. Feel free to say that when I'm gone.)

The Glamour of Hollywood

Yesterday my friends and I were walking on Vine a few blocks south of Sunset. A very jovial homeless gentleman approached us. I can't say for sure he was homeless since he was carrying a portable music player, but it wasn't an iPod, it was an old Sony Discman, so I'm pretty sure that means homeless.

"Fellas, sorry to bother you. I've only been in town for 3 days. I'm from Australia. Do you know where my friend and I can get some dick?" he said, with no Australian accent.

"No, sorry."

"Are you sure? Because we love dick. We swallow it. That's what we do. We're just looking for some Caucasian dick."

"Can't help you. But good luck with that."

"Aw, thanks! You guys are so nice! If you see any dick around let me know. We're going up to KFC right now. Maybe they have some dick there."

"I hope so."

"Don't worry. We're gonna get some Caucasian dick. One way or another." With that, he walked off triumphantly singing to the tune of Blondie at the top of his lungs... "ONE WAY... OR ANOTHER.. I'M GONNA GET SOME... GONNA GET SOME DICK!" Then he was gone.

It was the most entertaining harassment I've had in awhile.

I feel bad turning down homeless people, but I really do believe that if we had given him some dick, we wouldn't be helping in the long run.

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