I said, when they came to me, I would gather them, and share with all. Some of these are done by others, but mostly, I own these 'lessons'. And fuck it, something good has to come from them. At my age, I like to think I've gained some wisdom through my many, many mistakes. It could be a lie; it could be false, but I think it just the same.
At the very least, I no longer stick my hand on hot surfaces. Not intentionally, anyway.
With that in mind, lets go--->
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*If going Commando--you know who you are--always have one pair of emergency skivvies.
Now, I have a friend, and this friend swears that life isn't made for underwear. Who am I to argue?
This friend relayed to me a bad experience he had, as a result of his lifestyle choice. He said during his first year of 'freedom', he had his yearly work physical. Since he threw away all of his boxers, briefs and novelty jammies, he thought nothing of it, until the nurse told him to get down to his underwear, as she left the room. He says, this is when it dawned on him, what going Commando really meant.
He said he kind of freaked, because there is a rather large difference to standing in your underwear in front of the doctor, and standing there like a naked newborn. He stuck his head out of the door, and whispered to the nurse, in the sweetest voice he could muster, that he would need a gown. She smiled and got me the gown.
It was at this moment, the most obvious idea for a spare pair of underwear came to my friend. He loves the feeling, but he knows that white pants and shorts in thin material lacks a certain, um, subtlety.
He mentions that wearing traditional underwear now, feels like a prison sentence, prevents his legs from breathing, and bum-rushes his equipment. No Sir...he says. But now, he always has a 'brief brief' and a 'shadow boxer'. You just never know.
*Never ask a woman if she is pregnant, unless you are OVER a 100% sure she is, in fact, pregnant.
In a perfect world, a compliment becomes a compliment. Sorry our shitty luck, but that perfect world turned into a crazy drug trip, and the compliment became a heated insult. Somehow I naturally fall into situations like this. Trust me, she looked pregnant. She was young, and generally fit. Now she had a bulge. A real bulge.
Well, I couldn't ignore it. That would be rude. Now, I'm a nice guy, so I congratulated her on her "baby", saying how fast he was growing.
Uh, usually a compliment precedes a thank you, a blush, a denial. But, funny enough, she looked...pissed. An elevated PISSED. She walked past me and screamed in my face, "I'm not FUCKING PREGNANT!!"
At first I was a slight confused. Then I realized I told her that her stomach was as big as a growing baby. And that baby fat was simply, fat.
Let someone ELSE ask this question.
*Do not touch the DO NOT TOUCH button.
As men, many of us never lose the spirit of exploring. Who needs a map? We like to push the boundaries a little; perhaps a lot. The thing is, it IS tough not to touch this button. Nobody in their right fucking mind wants to touch the button without a label. No sir. DO NOT TOUCH? That thing is just asking for it.
DO NOT TOUCH. Who are they to tell us not to touch it. You ain't my Daddy!
And you touch it, and without fail, something happens that explains, why, the DO NOT TOUCH button is there. It could be minor. It could be major. But bet your ass you're gonna hear about it right away.
Years ago, in my drunken 20's--an extremely stupid period of my life--I was taking one of my friends to the ER because he was fighting another friend for reasons unknown or forgotten. One of them got the better of the other, gashed open a forehead, and someone needed to be stitched up. It was late, the service was glacial, and some of us got bored.
Then we found the loudspeaker for the entire ER. It said DO NOT TOUCH above it.
Well, you can imagine what happens next. I did a Cheech and Chong bit, someone else did his best Elvis. We laughed and sat down, and right after that, a couple of cops charged us and read us the riot act. We denied it all, which pissed them off even more. They screamed that one more fuck up and we'd all be on the wrong side of their Billy clubs.
All because we pushed the DO NOT PUSH button.
All I'm saying, is if you touch the DO NOT TOUCH button, have a back up plan, fast running shoes, or a damn good lawyer. You will surely need one of them.
*Never pick up a furious toddler while he is facing you.
This starts out kind of funny, seeing the little guy throw his fit, but you end it by picking him up facing you. Well, this never ends properly.
Those tiny little toddler shoes pack quite a punch at full rage. Of course, you're not thinking about any of this--the first time--you're try to quiet an upset kid. And since you were never much of an athlete growing up, you had no need for a protective cup. Only jocks need those stupid things, right?
And then it happens. Out of nowhere, those little sneakers drive their full force in your exposed crotch. The surprise drowns out in the shock and awe of having a testicle smashed buy an angry size two. Sure it doesn't sound like much.
Ask any man; it is.
Lying on the ground, your only comforting thought is that someday, your son will one day have his own kid, and exact this same fury upon him.
*Never order anything directly from the TV, particularly late at night.
Nothing good can come from a credit card, late night TV and a terminal case of boredom. Add a little alcohol to the mix and you have yourself a certified disaster. I mean, do you really need to cut through your phone books with a handful of Ginsu knifes? No, you do not.
Having a Mr. Microphone does NOT guarantee a career in show business. And when the kids get a hold of that cheap piece of Chinese plastic, well, you know someone is gonna get bonked in the head.
But Wait! There's More!! A money-back guarantee is not what it seems, in that, you will never again see your money. Unless you count garage sales as a return on your original investment. Don't be mad at the UPS man when he delivers Tony Little's new contraption, and tells you that the garage sale price is on the box.
"Call Now!!", because there is a limited supply of those Clappers and Soloflexes. I know, I know, that fucking light switch is a royal pain in your American ass. Clap-Clap to turn on the TV and VCR so you can put another Girls Gone Wild DVD in. This is the U S of A god dammit, and my stupidity can run circles around my credit limit.
So let those Duncan Yo-Yos stay on the screen, and keep your integrity so it can be used at The Golden Corral when you're going back for thirds.
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