I am sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, having survived a “RICHARD” morning. As any honest, Louie-Louie Generation guy will admit, one of the good things about having some years in your rear view mirror is that eventually you learn when to say yes, when to say no, and when to say, Whoopie and when to say, Whoops. My Lady Wonder Wench saw a very loud, Whoopie moment coming this morning, and that’s why she said, RICHARD. When she says RICHARD like that…it always gets my attention. My Lady Wonder Wench is the only person in the world, besides the IRS, the FAA, and the Department of Motor Vehicles who calls me Richard. And that’s only when my testosterone has betrayed me, and I do something that can best be described as adolescent, immature, and or smarmy. I guess I hit the jackpot this morning.
Here’s what happened. I’m having some dental work done that involves a dentist and three nurses. So you know it’s not just the every day kind of dental work where he says things like, “Open wide, this won’t hurt…can you feel it when I whack you with my dental hammer, and please don’t bite down that’s my thumb”. It’s more complicated than that. So my Lady Wonder Wench decided that it would be a good idea for her to drive me home, because there would be so much Novocain in my mouth that I wouldn’t be able to see over my swollen upper lip to drive home myself. That’s why she was sitting in the office with me, when the 13 year old Pimple Person nurse came in to take my blood pressure, and to ask questions that are routine in a procedure like this. Questions like are you allergic to penicillin, and more ominously, what’s the name of anyone you’d like to have us call in an emergency.
That’s when one of those voices you probably also have in your head that insists on telling you jokes at a funeral made me say Sophia Loren. Nurse Pimple didn’t even blink…she just wrote it down…because she had no idea that Sophia Loren lurks and smiles, and turns up the sweat glands in the dreams and fantasies of almost every Louie-Louie Generation guy. And then she said the most amazing thing anybody ever said to me in a dentist’s office. You will not believe this.
With a completely straight face, Nurse Pimple said, quote, “I’ll tell the girls you’re ready now.” I’LL TELL THE GIRLS YOU’RE READY NOW. Instantly, a soundtrack started in my mind. And on cue, a long line of Victoria’s Secret models, led by Fifi, Desiree, and a mostly naked Catherine Zeta Jones look alike who were lying in wait, anxiously anticipating the word that I was ready for them…whirled into the room, and began to have their way with me…in my head that is. And the voice in my head started hollering YEssss, and began clapping his hands over his head like a Spanish tango dancer…or maybe that was me clapping my hands over my head…things were getting confused, and all of a sudden a very familiar voice rang out, with a very specific message. It said…”RICHARD.” Whoops.
As Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie Louie Generation has explained in the past, testosterone is a preservative. A preservative is a chemical that keeps fungus, and other things from growing…and growing is one way to describe the process of maturing. And evidently, I seem to have an excess of the stuff.
All this happened very quickly. And no sooner had the sound of RICHARD made my eyes flick open, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but…THE GIRLS Nurse Pimple had promised. They weren’t the same ones who had starred in that silken, sweaty, sleazy, scene that had evidently put a smile on my face that Lady Wonder Wench later probably accurately described as smarmy. There were three of them…masked…wearing surgical gowns that were not slit up the side. There was not a stitch of black lace showing. Two of them were Pimple People. As a matter of fact, one still had acne, and one had distinctly noticeable droopy ears, and the non-pimple-person would have looked better wearing orthopedic boots and corrective hot pants.
Then the dentist walked in and said, “This won’t hurt.” I wanted to tell him it already did. But I couldn’t make my upper lip move.
Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.
1- Why did a board of directors give a guy $26 Million?
2- How enthusiastic can you get as a blood donor?
3- How do we know where Bill Gates keeps his cash?
Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.
A couple of very interesting emails this week. (The Email address is email@example.com Proud Podcast Participant Sgt. P said, “Your blog last week reminded me of Bob & Ray. Why? Because many of their bits were sponsored by Quagmire Corporation, makers of mud.” If you don’t remember Bob and Ray, Google them. They were very funny guys.
Proud Podcast Participant Scott, commented on last week’s podcast too. He said: “When contrasting Diane Sawyer vs. Chris Wallace, what came to mind was how the difference in their styles mirrors that of broadcasters like yourself vs. the David Staebler character Nicholson plays in “The King of Marvin Gardens.” When Diane Sawyer addresses the camera, you feel as if she is talking to you, personally. In fact, the intimacy she establishes can be disconcerting sometimes.” Scott, I’m a big fan of intimacy like that. And it’s always fascinating to me, watching for the sparks that all of a sudden snap the sizzle into our lives. There’s a story about that in the Night Connections 2 Personal Audio CD. It’s called, “The Piano Man.”
He knew that expensive lady wasn’t going to show up for his gig. The spark…the sizzle… had burned the tenderness between them to a crisp. And they both knew it was time to brush the ashes away. That happens sometimes. And that’s why some people get scared when sparks start flying. He’ll do just fine. But I often wonder what will happen to her.
“The Piano Man” is from the Night Connections 2 personal audio CD. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, you can just download it from the Night Connections 2 icon on the home page at www.dicksummer.com .
One of the good things about being a Louie-Louie Lad or Lady, is that we’ve been around long enough to know that there’s a time to say yes, and a time to say no, and a time to say Whoopie and a time to say Whoops. My Lady Wonder Wench knows that very well. That’s why when my excess testosterone starts some excess Whoopie going… like this morning, sometimes she has to bring me back to reality with a quick “RICHARD.” But she also knows how to start some lovely Whoopies going in my head…and other parts. Like when she says, “I THINK IT’S PAST OUR BEDTIME…DICK.”