My gym routine requires that I be completely pant-less for about six seconds. Generally speaking, it’s the longest six seconds of my day. It’s usually proceeded by a minute or so of me standing there awkwardly, in my underwear, trying to calculate when to best “make my move.” Today there was a complication. I’d changed my shirt and removed my shoes, and I was ready to make the transition. I was just standing there, waiting for just the right moment. Once the elderly man on my left began his phlegm-spraying coughing fit, I knew it was my chance (the only other guy in there with us was trying to remember how to tie his shoes). I had my thumbs tucked into the elastic band of my underwear and I was beginning to go, when, all of a sudden… a naked man leaps out from around the corner, swinging a giant loofah sponge on a string. Never having encountered anyone in the locker room with a loofah, let alone one as large as my head, I had no idea what to do… I think I just stood there and stared for a few seconds, unable to make sense of what I was seeing. Then, thinking quickly, I pretended to have been overcome by a dire need to scratch my neck. I pulled my underwear back up to where it started, and then proceeded to scratch furiously until he found his way to the shower, where he probably went on to light some candles or something…
While at the gym, I had an idea for a reality TV show for my friend Jeff and me. I think it’s a good idea, but, as it would require that we abandon our families, I don’t think we’ll probably end up pitching it to the networks… The setup is pretty straight forward — Jeff and I abandon our families and move to Columbus, Ohio to make it as male escorts/models/writers/factory workers (the profession can change depending on the network that options it). The show’s called Deadbeat Dads. It’s kind of like The Real World meets The Fugitive meets Midnight Cowboy, but with the added drama of two broken homes. We get to wear disguises, and there’s a real bounty hunter after us!
I also had an idea for a children’s book called, “Bitch pulled my weave out.” I don’t have anything other than the title though.
Trying to cheer a friend of mine up just now, I mentioned that as a single, 30 year old male he’d have his choice of women once the draft started. That seemed to raise his spirits considerably. (“See, there’s a silver lining.”)
The baby hasn’t pooped in four days, so Linette called the pediatrician. He said that it probably wasn’t anything to worry about, but that, if we wanted to, we could give her some apple juice. Well, we just did, and now we’re waiting for something absolutely awful to happen. (If one of her regular, every day poops can send a hot stream of the stuff shooting out the ankles of her pants and the neck hole of her onesie at the same time, I can’t imagine what four days worth could do. Maybe I should just lay her in the tub for a while.)
I’m wondering if there’s a way that you can all chip in and buy me a sheet of Wacky Pack stickers for Christmas.
The person I know who’s related to Don Knotts just told me that she can’t help me set up an interview, so, if you know someone else who knows him, please let me know. It’s more important to me than Wacky Packs.
I hear the baby exploding in the distance. Wish me luck.
14 Comments
What is the underlying issue (sorry for the pun) here? Is it truly a your overworked sense of modesty or is it fear of your penis being mocked by the other locker roomies?
Remember Mark, whether you are a shower or a grower, it works…you have a baby to prove that. Carry yourself (and it) with pride. Even if it is a thimble-sized teenie weenie, it isn’t your fault. What is someone going to imply? That you didn’t try hard enough during puberty?
I think you need to find a counselor at a nudist camp who will help you work through this.
-Joe
I just don’t get that paranoia in the men’s locker room thing. It kind of creeps me out that so many people are creeped out. I am not saying that you are but it almost is a little homophobic which to me is about the gayest thing possible. It seems that every guy I knew in Junior High who went on about the another guy being gay in a nasty tone is now gay. Wait, duh, I just got it. You are not afraid of appearing gay to gay men who might make passes at you but homophobes who might beat you down if they suspected you were gay because you jumped out of your underwear rather than take them off one foot at a time, and than ass rape you just to prove that they were not gay.
Its like your gay if you do and gay if you don’t. And WHY did the pediatrician suggest applejuice if Clem is constipated as that is a known stool binder?! I just hope you don’t get to the rectal thermometer poop loosening method (don’t ask).
Ah wacky packs, LOVE THEM. I would spend all my allowance on them and then chew the gum so I would not feel guilty (remember that strange stale taste). I was fascinated by them and now I don’t know why. You know the dude that wrote the Pulitzer Prize Winning Maus created those (I’d remember his name but I have pneumonia). Happy Holidays to you all.
Mark, don’t be discouraged. There’s now an alternative to living with micropenis.
You’ll be stomping around that bathhouse bow-legged in no time.
As for the show with you and that insufferable hillbilly partner of yours, I like it. Actually, I love it. The thought of a split-screen with one side showing your dirt-poor families shopping with food stamps while the other side shows you and Jeff living the high life as now-macro-penised Ohio bachelors is just too much. If I didn’t have a colostomy bag, I’d shit myself laughing.
check out thebricktestament.com for a great lego laugh.
Omigod, Wacky Packs! Swiss Mess instant cocoa, Mrs. Clean (“Will clean up the floor with Mr. Clean–if she can find him”). . .
Were they really created by Art Spiegelman?
I don’t know where all you homophobes see penis size as an issue in this post. Apparently everyone doesn’t know that Mark has a tattoo of Twisted Sister on his ass. Don’t ask me how I know (note that this last statement is not meant to imply homophobia or anything).
The story of George W. Bush starring Don Knotts.
Yes, I do have a tattoo of Don Knotts portraying George Bush on my ass, and, yes, that is the horrible secret I’ve been keeping these many years, and the reason that I have to keep my naked body from the eyes of the other men in the bathhouse… As for fear of being gay, or whatever, I don’t really think that plays into it. I just don’t like being naked in front of strangers (or, for that matter, people I know). Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think that makes me a freak. Maybe it’s different for you, Chris. Maybe it
And, yes, Chelsea, Spiegelman did work on Wacky Packs. (And, here, if you
Now that I
You aren’t tricking me into going to that site again. Nope.
Sorry Mark, I never meant to imply you were homophobic but rereding the test I see that I did. I meant that men keep eyes averted for fear of being accused of being gay by homophobes. Meaning, that it is the fear of the homophobe not the homosexual that make men dress quickly as the homophobe is the one who assumes that open dressing is gay. Agai, homo if you do homo if you don’t.
SOAP ON A ROPE
Don
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