I just had a feeling.Deep down , something was fishy.I walked into the restroom and it hit me.My underwear is on backwards.How out of it do you have to be to put on boxer shorts backwards and not notice.Oh boy.
That was almost as funny as a family dinner from a LONG time ago.My dad and I were at each others throats as usual.After saying in no uncertain terms, that he(dad) was gonna kick me so hard, my ass would be a hat if I didn't close my ham hole, he hoisted a juicy wonderful coney island hot dog from his plate.Rolling my eyes and attempting to look meek, my eyes lowered into sub-surveillance mode.With the other hand , pops grabs up a plastic bottle of fancy mustard.While we are here, what the hell is "fancy" mustard? Is there a guy somewhere in Pennsylvania with a hair net and sore feet sampling mustard, and with a powerful resonating tone says "FANCY!!".All the mustard underlings run off to do various tasks.And what is the lower grade of mustard? It probably has pine needles in it, or lint or something.
Anyway, he turns the bottle to apply his condiment and whoosh.The entire bottle empties into his hand and begins to run down his arm.He held the pose motionless, observing his work.I snorted, turned my head and laughed.I mean, fell off on one knee, gasping for air and chuckling like the Pillsbury dough boy, but more baritone.After several minutes, I stood straightened my shirt and turned to sit down.When I wheeled around , his arm was still raised in a thinker position, but now his head was turned and his lips pierced in disgust.The mustard welling around his elbow, I asked through tears and more snorting," can I get you a napkin dad?".
His mouth dropped open a bit and he couldn't hold it."no, no thanks", he laughed.That reminds me of a dinner we had at Elias Brothers.The waitress took our order, and literally had to comeback and ask for a substitution for EVERYTHING we ordered.My pops and I started in on her, and everyone else in ear shot, and started laughing and carrying on.Every time this poor woman came back to the table it provided 15 more minutes of material.
If a person can do something unnatural with their bodies,like put their whole fist in their mouth, or press the soles of the feet together behind the head, what a magical moment it must have been when the discovery was made.Like, "..hey! wow! I can stuff a whole zucchini in my ass!! I cant wait to tell my friends!!".A better CSI would be, what happened to the vegetable after this act.My fame lies in what I cant do.Like,snap my fingers.I cant do it.A simple thing for most, my snap sounds like a Ohio blue tip match running up zipper teeth.I have gotten counseling for my self image problems stemming from a complete lack of flexibility in my fingers.It was rough, but I'm OK now.I cant swim fast either.I look like a flesh tone World War 2 landing craft making its way to Utah beach.It sucks, Ive got little kids and ankle humper dogs orbiting me in the water, people on shore pointing and covering their mouths in shock like they're seeing a pod of killer whales attacking a larger whale.I am a wonderful driver though.I LOVE cars.All my cohort loves going for a ride.They're scared to death, but they all have that uncomfortable smile.When I got my Benz, my wife was thrilled.She says," that's real nice Cary....nimble and 270 h.p....great".Like a big dummy, I pipe up,"17 inch rims, and it corners flat as a tabletop!!".She doesn't get it.Nothing fancy really.Souped up C230.Two less doors than the standard 230 and its a Kompressor.Helped that the dealer practically gave it to me price wise.I have lost my train of thought.Let us talk sports next.
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