A couple of weekends ago we attended a Catholic Church bazaar, which was a first for me. Toney promised it would be interesting, and she wasn’t half-steppin’. I think the whole town was there, and it was one raucous affair.
I was raised a Baptist, and when it comes to religion, that’s about all I know. And I don’t know much about that… But when I hear of a church-sponsored social event, I always think of people standing around a basement, or a too-hot “multi-purpose room,” wearing JCPenney suits and eating white sheet cake from the Kroger deli.
This so-called bazaar was a whole different breed of cat…
It was held outside of town, in an open field. Before we were even near the location, cops were directing us into another field set aside for parking(!). From there a fleet of full-sized school buses shuttled folks back and forth to the fairgrounds, or whatever it was being called.
And as we were riding there, I realized I probably hadn’t been on an actual school bus since the late 1970s. Probably since I went on my last field trip, to the symphony or something equally dull. Yeah, they look pretty much the same as they always did… Right down to the boogers smeared on the walls.
They dumped us near a boof, where we could buy “food tickets,” and went back to fetch another load of humanity from the parking field.
There were tents and people everywhere. Kids were running all around, and the adults were all jabbering a thousand miles a minute. And the ones who weren’t jabbering, were wedging funnel cake, and/or great hunks of glistening meat into their mouths.
We bought ten dollars worth of tickets, and started walking. The Secrets immediately hooked-up with friends, and disappeared. We didn’t hear from them again, until their money ran out. And so it goes.
We passed carnival games, all manner of food for sale, real homemade ice cream, gambling tents(?!), teenagers flirting with each other, and people acting semi-drunk (even though I never saw anyone actually drinking alcohol).
Down at one end of the field was a stage, where a band of old men was playing some kind of crazy high-energy punk-polka. We stood and watched for a few minutes, and couples were literally dancing in the aisles.
One song, which sounded like the freakin’ Pogues, rocked along, and would abruptly stop. And whenever it went silent, the audience would roar, “Alice? Who the hell is Alice??” Then the music would crank back up, and they’d do it all over again.
Toney and I had kick-ass ice cream sundaes, she talked to half the town, and I stood around watching people being people. It’s the way we roll. The boys eventually returned, all red in the face from running, and soaked from what they described as a water balloon war.
It was one bizarre bazaar. I had no idea. I didn’t realize actual fun would be allowed. It turned out to be a good time, and I’d done my very best to get out of it.
I think my lameness meter needs servicing. That shit had been sending up a piercing tone.
I listen to a lot of old time radio at work. They allow us to use iPods there, and I probably wear mine eight hours per night.
I play music early in the shift, then switch to Phil Hendrie or Jean Shepherd. And lately I’ve also been loading-up episodes of Dragnet, Gunsmoke, Suspense, Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar, and I Was a Communist for the FBI. It’s almost like watching TV, while you work.
Yeah, those great old shows really help pass the time, but sometimes the commercials are even more interesting.
For instance, what was the deal with the Post Office begging, absolutely begging, people to mail their letters early in the day? It seemed like a matter of life and death, and almost treasonous to even consider dropping an envelope into a mailbox past noon. TF?
And, of course, the cigarette ads usually cited some study, done by “a reputable firm,” that proves smoking is not harmful in the least. Great news! I think I’ll start sucking ’em down through my neck hole.
But I heard one a few nights ago that really got me to thinking… It was for some kind of cereal that supposedly promotes “youthful regularity.”
Youthful? Are youngsters better at pooping than adults? Are they more accomplished at it? It never really occurred to me. But, of course, that hasn’t been an issue for me… what with all the coffee and beer.
Indeed, the only time I experienced even the tiniest hint of irregularity, was when I was a kid. I was probably eleven or twelve, and started suffering severe stomach cramps for no apparent reason. It hurt like hell, as if someone was repeatedly running a sword through my gut.
Concerned, I walked across the street and told my grandmother about it. She asked me a few questions, left the room for a couple of minutes, and returned with a box that looked like something off The Waltons. It was some kind of medicine called Black Draught(!!), apparently a laxative.
No way, I said, no freakin’ way. I ain’t taking some creepy old World War I turd-buster; you can just count me out!
But she got my mother on the phone, and they conspired against me. I was forced to swallow one of those pills, and quickly fell asleep on the couch. And what’s that about? Do laxatives make you drowsy? I have no idea.
I slept for a while, and woke with a powerful urgency. I did the stiff-leg walk down the hall, entered the small room, and drove to the poop-hoop. And you know when you’re moving or whatever, carrying an old box full of stuff, and the bottom suddenly falls out? It was something along those lines.
But, I have to admit, the Tate/Labianca stomach pains disappeared, and never returned.
That’s my full experience with laxatives, and dangerous brickhouse constipation. Do you have any stories to tell on the subject? I need more information, because I’m woefully uninformed.
And how did we go from Johnny Dollar to this? Strange.
Have any of you ever used the GPS capabilities of a standard cell phone? My new one, the LG enV, keeps trying to sell me something called VZ Navigator, and I think I’m going to give it a try tomorrow. It costs $9.99 per month, or $2.99 for 24 hours. I’m going with the latter option, just to play around with it. Is it any good? Does it work?
I think Toney and the Secrets are going to Canada on Monday, to visit Nancy for a few days. Why? I don’t really know. I think Nancy just wore Toney down, and she finally said, “OK OK, for the love of God, OK!!” So, it’ll just be me and Andy for a few days, sitting around on couches and crying softly into throw pillows.
I see Hawaii Five-O might be returning to TV, in an “updated” version. Big deal. But since they film LOST in Hawaii as well, maybe the two shows can get together and share resources? Perhaps all the actors who’ve seen their characters killed-off on LOST, can just move over to the new Hawaii Five-O? Hell, there are enough already to staff a full-blown rehash crime drama.
And since nobody asked, or probably cares, here’s the ranking of my three favorite LOST characters:
1. Ben
2. Locke
3. Sayid
How would you rank ’em? I know a lot of people hate Locke, but I don’t share that opinion. Locke, you see, is the key. Get it?
I’ve been subscribed to yourmusic dotcom for a couple of years now, and have been very happy with it. But suddenly they’re no longer carrying (NERD ALERT!) the Warner Music Group catalog. Yes, I know the labels, and everything. What of it?
But included in the Warner stuff was Rhino, which is a continous goldmine of greatness. Now I’m going to be forced to pay full retail for it?? Man, that’s almost a crime against nature.
At this point I’m just using yourmusic to fill-in holes in my library, mostly greatest hits collections from artists who only merit a one-disc representation. Like Thomas Dolby, for instance, or Billy Squier.
Yesterday I received The Great 28, by Chuck Berry. And next in my queue is Gold by ABBA. You know what I’m talking about… creating a more perfect Surf Report music library.
But I sure do miss my mainline to Rhino… Is it too early to start sobbing into those couch cushions?
We booked our London trip last August, when I was still unemployed and nervously watching my severance dwindle away. It seemed like a crazy thing to do (ya think?!), but turned out to be the trip of a lifetime; it was as close to perfect as those kinds of things ever get.
So, just for fun, Toney went online and re-booked the exact same trip, one year later. She used the same hotel, the same dates, the same airline: everything. Of course, she backed out of it when it got to the end, where you have to pay for it all…
She just wanted to compare prices, 2008 against 2007.
And it would cost us over $2000 more this year, than last. Two thousand dollars! That’s quite a difference, and makes the whole thing even better.
And, except for a few baffling entries (like “farting in JCP”), that pretty much zeroes-out the Big Notebook of Fun.
I hope you guys have yourselves a fantastic weekend, and I’ll see ya on Monday. If not sooner…
This is Jeff Kay reporting.
I can’t believe no one else has answered your question on one of the better drinking songs of any era… and by the way I love the Pogues and all Irish music.
The “Who the hell is Alice” song has more than a few iterations, including a callback chant of “Who the f%$# is Alice?” It’s actually titled “Living Next Door To Alice” and was originally released by an Australian band called New World in 1972. It later became a big hit for a band called Smokie in Nov. 1976. Wiki has some more info if anyone’s interested on it.
Oh – poop story!
As a child I suffered from what’s called Hirschprung’s syndrome…I was born without nerves in part of my large intestine, which makes movin’ things along difficult, if not impossible. I basically LIVED on ExLax and daily (!) enemas. It took 4+ years for a diagnosis, but once they resected my colon and the anastomosis ‘took’ it was blue skies and clear shootin’ from that point on.
And nobody ever say ‘glycerine suppository’ in front of me. That’s just shiver-inducing.
The Comments never cease to amaze and amuse me! Poop stories are the best.
Husband and I love to listen to the pharmaceutical ads on TV . . .especially when they list the side effects – “oily discharge and the propensity for such”. Nasty!! Why would you take such medicine if the side effects are worse off than the original disease. ?
Can’t comment on Lost since I don’t watch it. I tried a couple of episodes the first season and then ‘lost’ interest.
Pooping is a very sensitive subject for me. Not only have I always been ‘irregular’, but now that I am 8 mos preggo, it’s even worse. I don’t know if the cramping is from being stopped up or pre-term labor. People call it ‘glowing’, I call it sweating from horrible discomfort:)
Have you ever had one of those poots that turned into a full blow dumpage?
I strongly suggest, that you stay away from coffee enemas. You don’t need creme or sugar and you get the full kick with out the bitter taste. BTW, let it get to room temperature first if your just that crazy to try it.
God DAM it man, I love these Poo filled updates!!!! Keep em coming!!!!!
Didn’t Chuck Berry do similar themed song back in the seventies called “My ding-a-ling”?
You booked a trip to England for you and the family while on severance pay? You have got balls of iron sir. A tip o’ the snap brim cap to you!
I heard that the corporate art buyer for the Ex-Lax company won’t even buy a painting unless it was done wet into wet.
Favorite Lost in Space characters:
Debbie (the f’d up looking “pet” of one of the daughters)
The Robot (Danger!! Danger!! and F#%&- you up the ass Will Robinson)
Dr. Smith (Oh, the pain!!)
When I was in college I would eat and drink whatever gave me the most horrible gas (usally Stroh’s Bohemian Beer and greasy burgers with a side of chili) on Tuesday night. Then on Wednesday during the free hour in the student union when everyone from the whole student body was jammed in there I would scope the crowd as I entered looking for the little groupings of the hottest sorority chickies.
When my radar honed in on them I would simply approach, circle and vent on the fly, exiting a side door immediately. Oh how I wish I could have hung around to listen to them gagging and blaming each other.
Locke
Ben
Vincent
~~~~Rusty…..
I believe that’s called “Crop Dusting”!
I love to poop, always have. Married the gasiest man alive and now also enjoying farting. Farted on a friend of our’s back just last night. Good times.
I have the mother of all poop stories. It is long but well worth the read. So, here goes:
Many years ago, my spouse and I were both in the restuarant industry. Wade was working 80-90 hours a week with an hour commute each way. He was having some intestinal issues and was going every 3 or 4 days. He was on the throne one evening after work (we only had 1 bathroom at the time).
Every summer the town we live in has a pub crawl. College town with 18 bars. Live music, drink specials, the whole nine. I went to this shindig with my parents who are both huge drinkers. My father is 6’5″ and the spitting image of Larry Bird. I decided that I was going drink for drink with my old man. I did fairly well for the first 6 hours. Until some other younger people showed up and started doing shots, which I am incapable of turning down. Got pretty sloppy. Ended the evening with a Bialey’s and coffee. I don’t know if coffee has the same effect on ya’ll as it does on me, but I call it colon blow 5000.
Anywho, I get home to find the spouse on the john. Told him that I had to go. He asked if I was going to puke. I said no and he told me that I could wait. I was standing there buck naked waiting. I proceed to hold my stomach to fart. And low and behold shat on the floor. Loose and cow-pattyish. We had 12″ white tile on the floor. I then decide to try to clean it up. In my drunken state I only managed to smear it into the grout.
Obviously, the husband freaked out. Told me to go the fuck to bed. A few minutes later he sees me with a cloth in my hand wiping on the louvered door of the laundry room and asked me what the fuck I was doing to which I replied that I was cleaning. He thought that I was using the same towel that I had smeared the shit with!
He finally gets me in bed and goes to sleep on the couch (obviously very pissed off at me). He is laying there and still smells shit, even after fully cleaning the bathroom. He gets up to see if there was cat shit or anything in the apartment. Looks over and sees a shit streak in HIS chair. And you know how men are with their chairs. Apparently I failed to wipe my ass before I sat in his chair completely nekkid. He left my the shitty (pun intended) note and told me that the chair had best be cleaned by the time he got home from work the next evening. To add insult to injury I managed to put a bleach spot on his chair as I was cleaning it.
The most fucked up part of all of this is that he still married me! But he does tell that story to anyone who hasn’t heard anytime he is drinking, including my grandparents! I have gotten to the point that it doesn’t even embarass me anymore. Don’t quite know what that says about me 😉
Dear Mrs. Wally-
w.o.w.
1. Ben
2. Locke
3. Sawyer…mmmm, Sawyer
GPS on my Verizon phone?
It’s now one of those things I never knew I needed, but now can’t live without. I travel all over the West Coast and use it every day I’m on the road. Of course the company pays teh $10 a month, so it;s a no-brainer.
My daughter went to Catholic grammar School.
Beer (cheap domestic) and wine at the spring back to school night. What’s not to like?
fleet phospho soda. the most ungodly salty tasting laxative in existence.
effective too….in twenty minutes i could no longer wipe…i had to dab.
so i’ve used it several times as a tool of revenge. it hides quite nicely in things like mac’n’cheese, rice a roni, and of course, hamburger helper (after they’re cooked of course)
Rusty, u da man!!! That beats my Yankee Candle experience.
Mrs Wally, you are a saint and a goddess. He should be a proud husband to have a woman with your intestinal fortatude! Eh fartetude!
Favorite Lost characters:
1. Claire
2. Sun
3. Kate
A Ménage à trois of complexing dimensions.
Us Catholics know how to throw a party (or Festival). We aae pretty well outnumbered here in TX, and ahem.. not necessarily well thought of by some, but you know we throw a mean party when half the town shows up anyway!
I liked Lost until season 2, then it went too far afield for me. I liked Locke best though.
Holy cow-I am LOL at the poop hoop. That is the first time I have ever heard it called that, but I am sure going to steal that one. Gah- how sad am I??
I am another who has never watched Lost.
But I always liked the Robot on Lost in Space.
What would be funny is if Mrs. Wally was a character on LOST! Can you imagine those people having to condemn the various tunnels and such after one of her visits? Good Lord, you’d never know which side of the island you wanted to be on.
Anyway, I once pooped my pants at a barbecue. Here.
Hey aminnev,
I agree with you about the side effects. If you want to cure yellow toenails but the medicine causes projectile flatulence, then it’s prolly better to just avoid open toed shoes.
Also, how about those commercials which don’t tell you what the drug is supposed to cure? They just say, “Ask your doctor if (whatever) is right for you”. Do people call their doctor and ask if it’s right for them?
MAN: Uh, yes doctor. I was calling to see if Treckazine is right for me.
DOCTOR: Do you have painful menstrual cycles and tender breast?
MAN: No. I don’t have menstrual cycles. I have a penis.
DOCTOR: Then Treckazine isn’t right for you. And quit calling me, asshole.
MAN: But the commercial said…..
please i beg of you to fix the further evidence … 🙂
I just updated the FrontPage site, without causing a fire! It’s rather complicated, and hopefully I’ll be able to remember how I did it.
But just knowing it’s possible is huge.
I also purchased a case of Fuller’s ESB this morning. They’re in the process of chilling, in the basement fridge. Oh yeah.
I swear to god, if you moved my ice cream bars I will shoot a lightning bolt up your ass.
YaY!!! that woman is scary as hell…
Gawd! The rapid updates we’ve seen recently have me spoilt. Two a day a lot of times. Now it’s only Saturday and it feels like the last one was weeks ago.
Jeff, are the smoking fish sightings all out of order now?
Speaking as a Catholic, if it was a Catholic event, there HAD to have been alcohol there. If not, something is very, very wrong.
I have tertiary syphilis
DTO…standing down on fire alert.
Enjoy the beverages Jeff (& Toney…I’m sure he shares) and happy what’s left of the weekend to all.
I forgot to mention… I did like the Viagra ad says to do. I asked my doctor if I was healthy enough for sex.
She said…a) “I don’t know…lets find out”.
b) “Yeah…but you’re ugly”.
c) “For Christ sake…how old are you”??
I see the Further Evidence and Bunker Cam have been updated as well. Very nice!
Happy Birthday CADude!
DTO – And the survey says!!! Go with C, it will keep you out of a lot of trouble.
lemme try this again….
had to reset my preset signature because I cleaned out the cookies in the computer here at work……
Jeff, you’ve spoiled us. Now we’re on the verge of foot-tapping.
Did Toney and the Secrets leave today? Where will they enter Canada – Buffalo area or 1000 Islands? Maybe they’ll pass me.
I have poop stories from yesterday, but they shall remain private, thankyouverymuch.
I do, however have a question about public puking etiquette? What do you do when you feel the urge to puke and you’re in public? And I’m not talking drunken puking. Anyone?
Currently on the bunker cam:
|TheWVSR Bunker Cam vti_metatags:VR|HTTP-EQUIV=Content-Type text/html;\\ charset=windows-1252 HTTP-EQUIV=Content-Language en-us AUTHOR Jeff\\ Kay DESCRIPTION A\\ live\\ camera\\ inside\\ the\\ Surf\\ Report\\ bunker. GENERATOR Microsoft\\ FrontPage\\ 4.0 KEYWORDS funny\\ photos,\\ funny\\ pics,\\ funny\\ pictures,\\ underground\\ comedy,\\ underground\\ humor,\\ alternative\\ art,\\ independent\\ art,\\ indie,\\ zines,\\ e-zines,\\ tasteless\\ comedy,\\ popular\\ culture,\\ wvsr,\\ fanzines ProgId FrontPage.Editor.Document
NO one has puke tips? I’m disappointed. 🙁
Other Kristin,
I keep a “barf bag” folded up in my back pocket just in case I ever have to puke in public. A barf bag (like the ones on airplanes) might be hard to come by. So you can substitute a microwave popcorn bag, once the contents have been popped and eaten, of course.
You could also use your shirt. Just grab the front of your shirt, pull it up a bit like you’re going to flash your bewbs, but on’y pull it up half as far. Then puke in there and run to a bathroom or wherever to dump it out.
If none of those work try this: right before you puke scream, “Get outta me Devil!” then puke wherever you want. People will be too scared to make fun of you.
Sorry for the long puke post, but I didn’t want you to go disappointed.
Jason, thank you.
Although I’m not convinced that your methods would have practical application.