I have always loved to swim in the ocean.
Last summer I went to Ocean City.
I went swimming on a cloudy day when there weren’t many people on the beach. The ocean was making me feel invigorated, and I made the risky decision to body surf. The next wave was a big one, and as it approached me, I started to swim and then let it take me.
It carried me about fifteen feet, then it flipped me putting my head in the sand. I lost my breath, gulped in salt water, then I sort of finished the flip and ended up standing on my feet in about six inches of retreating water as the surf went out. I was standing in front of two young girls, and one was pointing, the other giggling.
That’s when I realized my bathing suit was around my ankles.
The cold water had caused shrinkage, and my manhood looked like a thimble on top of a walnut. I thought that in any other place but the surf I could be charged with indecent exposure. I quickly gained my composure, and pulled my trunks up. I turned around and headed out to sea.
I hoped the girls would quickly forget what they saw and still have a good day at the beach.
It was required by all fourth graders at St Johns Elementary that we go to confession every third Friday of the month. We had to go into a dark booth where a priest would slide back a small door, hear our sins, and give us our penance.
You had to have your sins ready before you went in.
One visit I didn’t have them ready so I made some up.
“Father, I was looking up Katy Snoots’ dress, I jabbed a pencil in the teachers rear end, and I waited for a quiet moment in class and farted.”
The penance was quite tough: thirty hail Marys, thirty Our Fathers.
To leave the church without saying these prayers was a mortal sin. Getting close to the last prayer I had a tremendous urge to pee. I was the only one kneeling at the altar and not wanting to wet my pants I pulled down my zipper and let it go. A puddle formed at the feet of a statue of Mother Mary. This sin was never told.
One day I may enter the fiery gates of hell.
I once lived for two weeks in a tiny Ford Festiva.
Everything in my life had gone bad: no job, no home, no money. I still had my car, and at that young age I was not worried. But, when my food ran out I did get a little wild.
I went into a bar called, The Old Town Tavern. I sat next to a very large, round woman. She had more rolls than a bakery. She was chugging beers, and doing shots of tequila. She invited me to her apartment. I looked at her and thought, “there has to be a lot of food there.”
While I was looking in her loaded refrigerator, she had gone into the bathroom. I was shocked when I walked into her room. I think she had taken some drugs and she’d put on a small black teddy.
She said “I’m messed up and I want to fool around.”
I was younger then, I was hungry, and, unbelievably, I had a boner. I climbed on top of her and gave it my best for about 2 minutes.
As I was getting up and off, she asked me, “is it in yet?”
I said “I’m not sure.”
Then I went to the kitchen, grabbed two bagels and a box of Velveeta, and ran out the door.
Oh to be young again!
They found a man in China who had five penises.
It was reported that his pants fit him like a glove.
On my 9th birthday, my mother bought me a baseball bat that was so large, Babe Ruth could not’ve swung it. We went outside and I told my brother to pitch me a ball. Not knowing my younger brother was standing behind me I swung the bat as hard as I could. I missed the ball, but, with a hard follow through, hit Kenny in the temple.
I turned around to see him lying on the ground with a gash in his forehead with what looked like a piece of steak hanging out of the cut. I was certain I had killed him and that piece of steak was his brain. I ran to my room and cried like a baby, and I could not be consoled. Five hours later , Kenny came into my room and showed me his stitches. That was my worst birthday ever.
In my prime I could eat six tacos with hot sauce, then do cartwheels and summersaults with no ill effects.
Now, if I were to eat six tacos with hot sauce, I would have to do three things:
- Call 911 and scream, “I’ve been poisoned!”
- Make sure there is a clear path to a bathroom with working fan.
- Spend the rest of the evening lying down, except for when I am sitting (see #2).
Sister Eventia was my third grade teacher at Saint Johns elementary school.
She would crack you on the head with a heavy wooden ruler if you misbehaved.
My mother gave me a note to get out of class earlier than normal, 1:00pm sharp. At 2:00pm I realized the note was still in my pocket–I had forgotten. I stood up from my desk.
Sister said, “Where do you think you are going?”
I yelled, “New York!” and ran out the back door.