Tuesday, September 16, 2008

A Tail of Two Heinies...

A long time ago in land close close to me...

My dad had an... erm... episode with the 'roids. Now when I say "the 'roids", I don't mean ste, I mean hem. Now when you're riding a lot, and you have a case of the 'roids, it's tremendously painful. Cowboys in general have quite a succeptibility to them because they have a tendency to be dehydrated during their long outings, and well... that leads to adverse consequences.

My dad finally couldn't take it anymore, so went somewhere and had the surgery done to fix them. As he was leaving the hospital, the nurses told him that if they started to flair up again, that he should put Mennen's Skin Bracer (the green stuff) on his... erm... backside. The nurses said they didn't know why, but that stuff works like a shot and it was the only thing they knew of that worked.

My dad, took their advice and became a regular user. One thing I need to mention... the first time you do it... well...

One of my dad's first cousins was complaining about his 'roids and so my dad told him about the cure. "Does it work?" "I've never had any more problems." At this point, my cousin was willing to try anything and so on his way home, stopped by the store and bought a bottle of the green elixir.

Once he got home, he went in... sat on the throne, cracked the seal, and proceeded to dob a little on his problem area...

It was at this time, he first realized that the human body is a complex organism that doesn't operate in a vacuum. No... believe it or not your sphincter is directly connected to your diaphram, and when you splash skin bracer up there... you'd better be braced cause the first time it'll take your breath away.

He wasn't braced.

His wife, who was out in the kitchen, heard a startling noise and rounded the corner to find him exiting the bathroom with his pants around his ankles in a half crouched, bow legged position shuffling along with his eyes wide.

When he first slapped it up there, the alcohol in the ointment immediately reacted with the raw skin and caused him to gasp in shock. Of course as he gasped, that caused his nether regions to tighten up, which caused the elixir to find its way even further into the raw area, which in turn caused him to expel the gasped air in a sound that was similar, but not quite identical to the word "OH!"

Of course... when he expelled the "OH!" that caused another involuntary reaction in his end, which allowed the newly exposed raw area to now become exposed to the air again, which in turn caused the alcohol to immediately evaporate, leading to another gasp, which in turn led to another "OH!" which led to another gasp, which...

So when his wife, not knowing what he had done, looked at him and yelled, "What's wrong!" all he could do is do the shufflehop, gasp, and "OH!" dance toward her with his arms outstretched to balance himself.

After about 20 feet, the alcohol had finally evaporated and he could stand fully erect again and had to explain the whole thing to the wife and kids. When they could see that he wasn't going to die, they all started laughing at the spectacle, and had to pass the story on to my dad.

"Oh yeah... I guess I forgot to warn you about that." my dad said slyly...


Today's mystery lyric: (Remember the rules folks, no online searching of the lyrics, if you don't know it, you don't have the answer!)

Somewhere in a lonely hotel room there's a guy starting to realize that eternal fate has turned its back on him. It's 2 AM.

It's 2 AM, my fear is gone. I'm sitting here waiting. The gun's still warm. Maybe my connection is tired of taking chances...

Answer to last lyric: Hey there Delilah by The Plain White T's.

Saturday, September 06, 2008

The Crane Flys at Dawn

Over the years I've had so many things happen, and tales to tell that I kinda forget some of them. A couple weeks back, I went on a finchin' trip with the ol' college gang and while the french toast was being cooked in the open air... I remembered a tale and they all got a kick out of it, so the least I can do is to share it here.

It was during the summer and we were camping out, moving our cattle up to the high country as we usually did. As romantic as it sounds, it consisted of getting up at 4:30 or so in the pitch black from less than stellar sleeping conditions (read tent on gravel) and usually went downhill from there.

Believe it or not, even though it was usually the first week of August the usual morning temperature was probably around 40 or so, but the big cast iron grill on top of the open fire made it tolerable as we huddled around taking in the smoke.

Like I say, it was blacker than a... erm... it was pretty dark out, and the only lights were the various lanterns and the cooking fire. As a result, every flying critter within two miles always swarmed them.

I was about 12 or 13 and was one of the first to make my way to the fire that particular morning, found a good solid chunk of wood and sat down as one of the older guys started frying the pancakes up. I always liked the rodeer pancakes because they were always made with bisquick, and all I got at home was the homemade kind. Well, that and those cooked on the big cast iron griddle were always about a foot across, so two made for a meal.

As I was sitting there watching things... I couldn't help noticing a huge bug buzzing around the fire. It was a crane fly and it just couldn't help but buzz the griddle. It was just about this time that the pancakes needed to be turned over and the cook grabbed the big spatula and flipped the first one over. Somebody said something and he proceeded to turn his head and answer the question while simultaneously scooping up the other pancake and flipping it over. He wasn't paying attention... but I was.

It was right about then that the crane fly decided he just couldn't stand to stay out of the way and flew directly into the path of the gooey side of the pancake as it made its way downward toward the griddle.


As if by magic... the crane fly was no longer to be seen. I thought for an instant he'd gotten away... but I knew better. So my only other option was to keep track of which pancake it was, and I did that with a watchman's eye.

The breakfast time conversation continued to flow and the eggs started to sizzle in their pan, but my eyes never left the pancake. Right about then, ol Mike scoops the two pancakes up, stacks them on top of each other and looks right at me and says, "Get your plate."

"No... no. That's ok. I'm good. Go ahead and give those to somebody else, I can wait."

"Nope. These are yours." and he slides them off onto my plate. I swallowed a bit as I looked down at the pancakes, but what was I to do at that point? Shoot... I was a 12 year old kid and I didn't want to be rude to the cook, nor waste food, so I was in a quandry. But wait! There was still the chance that I was mistaken! Perhaps the crane fly had indeed flown away and I just had two good pancakes.

With that hope in mind, I turned the pancakes over and... and...

Yup. There he was... splayed out like a cartoon character slappin' up against a windshield. So I did the only thing left for me to do... turned my head in that "well crap" kinda motion and grabbed my fork and knife.

With a surgeon's precision, I cut away the portion that contained the crane fly, and put butter and syrup on the rest. Mmmmmm, mmmmm... good stuff Maynard.


Today's mystery lyric: (Remember the rules folks, no online searching of the lyrics, if you don't know it, you don't have the answer!)

A thousand miles seems pretty far
but they've got planes and trains and cars
I'd walk to you if I had no other way

Answer to last lyric: Sleep by Savatage