Crazy-Pops

I'm out in the front yard today, playing hockey with the Mixmaster on the sidewalk. He's playing goalie. We're using a hockey ball because, well, there's no ice on the sidewalk this time of year and the pucks just don't go when there's no ice. So he's got his stick and I'm shooting the ball towards him and he's hitting it as far as he can. And he starts yelling, as he's hitting the ball, "Whack! Whack off! Whack off! Look daddy, I'm whacking off!" Then he hits it towards the neighbor's garden. "Look, daddy, I whacked off to the bush!"

I could not stop laughing. And I could not explain to him what was so funny. Which made him mad. But one day, 15 years from now, when he's in college and I'm on my yacht in the Riviera, I'll video conference call him and tell him all about it.

Flod's last post made me think of this. It's sort of a spin-off blog. Think of it as the "Three's Company Too" of the Crazy Pops blog:

When I used to work for the man, many many years ago, or 5 years ago, anyway, I had a boss who I loved dearly. He was a great guy - genuinely cared about his employees, great personality, and he had a fantastic rapport with clients. That's the word of the day, by the way: rapport. Taste it. Chew it. Sprinkle it through your conversations like salt in a pre-prepared package of pork loin bought at Safeway. Why the hell do they have to put so much freaking salt in that thing? Anyhow, this boss was great in every way, except one: He liked to talk in the bathroom. And not as in, "I believe I'll sit here on my throne and call everybody I know on my cell phone" talk, but as in, "talk to you personally." So many times I'd be standing there at the urinal, taking care of business, emptying out the hull of my aircraft carrier, as it were, and I'd hear the door open behind me and I'd hear, "So, Jeff, how's the ABC project going?" Which, as you probably know, stops the flow of the might river Ganges faster than you can say "innappropriate." Maybe Flod can handle a conversation while he's dipping his noodle; hell, I bet he can give a speech while he's doing it. He's that kind of guy. Me? Not so much. My Airforce One seems to stop flying when it's up in the air and all of a sudden my brain has to come up with a proper response to "Where are my TPS reports, Jeff?" And with this particular boss, it happened a lot. Probably once a month. It got to the point where if I were heading to the bathroom and I saw him heading to the bathroom I'd change my route to the fax machine or the elevator. Which meant I always had to pee when I was at the fax machine, but if I had to become "that weird employee who always has to pee when he's at the fax machine" to ward off the constant conversations with my dick out, so be it.

I always felt like it was an invasion of personal space. Isn't it? I mean, you ladies don't really have the same problem, because you're in a stall all the time. And your boss wouldn't know you were in there unless he or she recognized your shoes. Which, come to think of it, would be really weird. Anyway, I started thinking about it, and I started thinking about the invasion of personal space and how I could get him back and show him how it felt. So I went to his house while he was having sex with his wife. "So, boss, how about that raise I'm supposed to get?" No, okay, I didn't really go to his house while he was having sex with his wife. But that's the fictional punchline to a non-fiction story. That's literary license. Which you can lose if you drink and write.

Have a fantastic day.

So I walk into the bathroom on our floor at work, like 10 seconds behind a guy who just went in. I'm in a bad way. I gotta deuce like the devil. There's nobody else in the bathroom. The dude walks into the ONLY stall, right next to the ONLY urinal, and proceeds to simply piss.

WTF?!?!? I see dudes doing this all the time. Why in Christ's name can't you use a urinal, dudes? It's RIGHT THERE! Does pissing in the toilet make it feel more like you're pissing at home? Is it some kind of security blanket? Do you LIKE watching water and urine splashing from the bowl to the lid?

Good Lord. What the hell is WRONG with you dudes?!?!?!?

Holy Moly! We've had 500 visitors to the blog! Wow! Of course, 400 of them were me checking to see if anybody else had written anything, but still: Thanks for visiting, you 100 other visitors!

I just read that the Southeast corridor light rail in Denver is opening November 17 - my wife will be able to take that line to work from downtown to DTC. And that reminded me of this story: A couple of years ago, The Mixmaster and I were walking downtown and I saw the light rail tracks down there and I said to him, "Someday we'll be able to take this light rail to Mommy's work." And he got real quiet and real thoughtful and then this gem popped out of his mouth: "But how will we hold it?"

The Rodents and I went downtown tonight to take some new pictures, since we have a new lineup, and this one is quite blog-worthy. Yes, that's me grabbing ass with 4 beautiful and talented women. It's like a teenage fantasy come true! Ah, hell, who am I kidding? It's like a 40 year old male fantasy come true! I am such a lucky bastard.

If you want to see more grab ass with a 4 to 1 female to male ratio, come on down to the Avenue Theater next Tuesday night, July 25, 7:30 pm, for our next show. It'll be great! If I can get my hand off of Emily's ass by then. Hey, if you ask nicely and bring your friends to the show, we'll recreate this pose for you. But only if you ask nicely. And bring your frineds to the show.

Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. You had to go and call us out. Well, since I'm really the only OTHER one who's written anything (okay, maybe Dukey wrote one), I guess you're calling me out. You're #19 and I'm in the low slot. Okay, I'm out. (I can hardly wait for the "I'm out" jokes to start.) This is me getting you--and your mamma--back, for dropping me in the low slot. (That's how she likes, it, by the by--your mamma: from the back.) DOH! Wait, are there kids who read this? Sorry about that. Note to kids: Kids, just so you know, Jeff's mamma likes it from the back.

Now that that filth is outta my mouth, on to something more innocent.

So my 7-year-old daughter, The Bop, came out with this in the car yesterday:
_______________________________________________________

Bop: Mommy?

Mommy: Yes, Bop. (This was like the 25th "Mommy...." in the past 2 minutes.)

Bop: Do you know why I keep all my Dr. Seuss books?

Mommy: Why, Bop.

Bop: Because he's dead.

[daddy starts laughing hysterically]

Mommy: What about other authors who are still alive?

Bop: They don't write Dr. Seuss books.

Happy Hot Monday!

My ass hurts today. Yes, my ass. I got knocked down on my ass during my hockey game twice last night by #19, who found it important to clear me out of the low slot. With his body. Dude slammed me to the ice, twice! Of course, being a hockey player, I gave it back to him pretty good. So, hey, #19, sorry about tripping you. And about your mom. Send her my love. Oh, wait, I already did that! Hahahahahaha!

If you like your comedy on the simian side or just need a real laugh after that lame joke, check out our pals in Monkey's Uncle Comedy Improv tonight at the new Jazz at Jack's at 8:00. www.monkeysuncle.info for more, yes, info.

All of a sudden, I'm quite hungry. Wings, anyone?

All right already! "Is the blog over?" "Are you quitting the blog?" "Did you die a horrible death in a strange Metamucil accident?" Enough with the questions!

Actually, nobody's asked. Interesting. Because, really, while this is the alleged "Crazy Pops" blog, I went out of town for 11 days and nothing happened with it. Even though there are 3 of us "writers." Interesting. There have been 39 posts and I've written at least 30 of them. No he didn't! Yes, I did. I called you out. Really, we should change the name of this blog to something like "One Guy Who Gets An Occasional Stick Up His Ass And Has To Write About It To Stay Sane." Because that's what it is.

Anyhow, I've been at the San Diego beach with my kids for 11 days (okay, my wife went too!) and am just assimilating back into society. That's your word for the day, by the way. "Assimilating." Touch it. Love it. Sprinkle it throughout your conversations like bacon bits on a salad. I have lots of things to write about, and I'll start with them this weekend. So stay tuned for my reviews of Sea World and Lego Land and another episode of "Crazy Yet Poignant Things Kids Say." Because when you take a 3 and a 5 year old on a plane for the first time and to the beach for the first time, they have lots to talk about. And so do I.

- The Lone Crazy Pop.