Introducing: POOP CRATE — My Version of LOOT CRATE for My Fellow Shit Humor Enthusiasts

As I mentioned in a previous blog, our monthly LOOT CRATE arrival turns my life and home upside-down with the useless pop culture tzotchkes that Dave Dorman and Jack enjoy, and I have to find extra space (often the circular file) to store. Occasionally, I’ll find a gem in there, like the BREAKING BAD Los Pollos Hermanos apron, but that’s extremely rare.

Admittedly, my sense of humor is that of a 13-year-old boy, but I know I’m not alone in this. To witness, there’s the recent “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” episode–with a guest appearance from my friend @TJHoban–which included enticing someone to eat a shit sandwich.

There’s the recent episode of Better Call Saul–I had no less than 3 friends texting, alerting me to it–where Saul Goodman was asked to represent the inventor of a new talking toilet for children.

There’s the Seinfeld episode where Jerry rides in first class, eating the best sundae of his life while we see Elaine’s cheeks blown out like Louis Armstrong as she holds her breath, trying to use the restroom in coach after a particularly sulfurous passenger.

And then there’s this no-longer-private message on Facebook recently, from my closest cousin:

From my cousin Jeff, whose gift to me one Christmas was the "Coffee Makes Me Poop" mug.

From my cousin Jeff, whose gift to me one Christmas was the infamous “COFFEE MAKES ME POOP” mug.

I’ve passed this humor down to another generation. Much to Dave’s chagrin, our son’s favorite talking stuffed toy as a baby was my South Park Mr. Hankey The Christmas Poo …“Hidey Ho, Neighbor!”

It occurred to me, given the dozens of poop-related items I am sent via Facebook, text and email daily, that I should start curating these items into a monthly tzotchke box called POOP CRATE. I encourage all of you, my kindred spirits out there, to pay me a monthly fee to curate and ship them these scatological comedy props. Here is what my theater of the mind imagines my first monthly $19.95 shipment would include:

The Shitbit — Like the FitBit, but instead of tracking you burning calories, it tracks you burning mules.

Remember when The Weather Channel was MTV for old people? Well, here's the FitBit equivalent.

Remember when The Weather Channel was MTV for old people? Well, here’s the FitBit equivalent.

Poo-Pourri — An oily spray for your toilet, to ensure your smelliest poops are stealthy.

Now THERE's the innovative stuff that makes America great.

Now THERE’s the innovative stuff that makes America great.

The Flatulence Deodorizing Pad — I especially love the warning that it’s non-returnable. That made me giggle like a school girl!

A big hit for all of those resident's of Florida's The Villages, who are back in the dating scene.

A big hit–I imagine–for all of those senior residents of Florida’s THE VILLAGES, who are back in the dating scene.

If you are reading this and would like to be on my mailing list for the launch of POOP CRATE, ping me here! You will be #1 for #2!

November 6, 2015 addition: My friend Mike just suggest my new slogan: “POOP Crate: Better than your usual crap.”

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The Racquetball Chronicles, Episode 4: Sprained Boobs

Don’t shoot me if it’s been more than four. I think we’ve established that I’m terrible with numbers. For the record, the final scores tonight in Marovich’s favor (of course) were 21-1, 21-1, and 15-8. As you can tell, I was just warming up by Game #3. I’m confident I would have handed her ass to her if we’d rented the court for two hours instead of one.

Marovich & Me: We've been playing this game for 30 years and we still haven't bothered to learn the rules!

1980s-style Marovich & Me: We’ve been playing this game for 30 years and we still haven’t bothered to learn the rules!

So Marovich and I still haven’t read the 70-page PDF document explaining the Official Rules of Racquetball. I tried reading it, but my ADD got in the way, and Marovich is just way too busy with work. I’m lucky she squeezes me in. We were hoping tonight that one of you reading this blog might already know the rules of racquetball. If so, here are our questions for you:

#1. If you hit your opponent with the ball and you’re not the one serving, is it an automatic point to the server, or an automatic do-over?

#2. In the server box, there is a smaller side box to the left, and one to the right. In cut-throat, does one of the three players have to be in that box during the serve?

#3. If the ball hits our bottled waters sitting in the corner of the court, is that an automatic do-over?

#4. If the player receiving the serve chooses to play on a Long (Duck Dong) Serve or a (Martin) Short Serve, does that count? Or do they have to call it long or short?

#5. What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow? (Just makin’ sure you’re still with me.)

Our latest on-court shenanigans resulted in the addition of the “The Belch Hindrance” clause to our already customized version of the Racquetball Rules. Marovich knows if she belches while I’m serving, I’m the 12-year-old who just busts out laughing and blows my serve. Every time. You see, we have a girlfriend who has earned our deep respect for really setting the bar high on the tone, volume, and resonance of her belches. For our own amusement, we used to dare she-who-shall-remain-nameless to drink down an entire can of Diet Coke, call her mom on the phone, and then emit this depths-of-hell belch that literally went on for 10 seconds straight, as her appalled and very proper Catholic mom was screaming at her to stop in the names of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It was EPIC. Sadly, Marovich has finally found the one thing in life she can’t do better than someone else. And every time Marovich attempts her totally fey belches on court, she knows my brain goes right back to our friend belching in her mom’s ear, and that makes me laugh even harder. When you’ve been friends since 7th grade, you know each other’s Achilles’ Heels. Hence the necessity for the new clause.

The estrogen-centric reading this will agree, there are some days of the month when “the girls” are more tender than others. I forewarned Marovich my girls were uber-sensitive and requested could she please try not to hit me in the chest with the ball, just this once? The next thing I knew, I somehow managed to hit my own self in the chest with the racquetball and it was so ridiculous, we had to stop playing so Marovich could regain her composure. In the next play, Marovich put both hands out in front of her–palms facing me–as she tried to reach one of those maddening shots that hugs the wall without crashing into it at full speed. My sore, swollen girls stood right in her pathway. Another hindrance. It was like that classic Seinfeld scene where Elaine accidentally falls in the women’s locker room and grabs Jerry’s girlfriend’s breasts to break her fall. With aplomb, I delivered Teri Hatcher’s famous line to Marovich: “They’re real, and they’re spectacular,” as we lost another five minutes on the clock to me icing down my sprained boobs.

After racquetball, Marovich imparted that Amy Schumer shares our same, sick sense of humor, as evidenced by her hilarious new Comedy Central music parody, “Milk, Milk, Lemonade,” which spoofs the big booty jams. It’s #NSFW, so don’t watch this one around the kids. I warn you, it’s a total ear worm and you will hate me in the morning: http://bitly.com/MilkMilkLemonade 

One summer night we were all drinking at the Diet Coke Belcher’s house, drawing Dirty Sanchez mustaches on each other with Hershey’s chocolate for selfies, debating the origin of Eggs Danny Thomas-style, when I got the impulse to call GoDaddy.com and purchase the MilkMilkLemonadeAroundtheCorner.com URL (I may even still own it, I’m not sure…). I was incensed to learn that someone else already owned my first choice, the MilkMilkLemonade.com URL. For all I know, it could have been Amy Schumer. And if it was Amy, then that’s okay.

 

The Weirdest Convention I Ever Did With Dave Dorman

Dave and I have been together for 15 years now, so as you can imagine, we’ve shared many bizarre convention adventures, given the sheer number of shows we’ve done. However, there’s one small, local convention that still wins for the most bizarre. Being there, I felt like I was floating through this weird, drug-induced pop culture dream, filled with disparate TV and film characters from my youth and early adulthood.

It was a small collectors’ show at a suburban Chicago Holiday Inn, held in this cramped, low-ceilinged, poorly lit conference room. The moment I walked in, I was met by actor Richard Kiel (Jaws from James BondSQUEE!–and hilarious in Happy Gilmore) joined by his lovely wife.

Actor Richard Kiel, JAWS in James Bond films "The Spy Who Loved Me" and "Moonraker."

Actor Richard Kiel, JAWS in James Bond films “The Spy Who Loved Me” and “Moonraker.”

At this point, Richard was already having health issues, confined to getting around in a Rascal, which broke my heart a little. He was a gentle giant and a sweet soul, very kind to the fans.

Further down the line of tables on the same side as Richard Kiel was the elegant Goldfinger actress Shirley Eaton, who was with one of her sons hawking books of her own poetry and autographing pictures of her gold-painted Bond Girl character, Jill Masterson. That was one tzotchke I had to have, although I gifted it to a kindred James Bond fan later that evening for his birthday. (Side note: Those exotic James Bond films were a VERY. BIG. DEAL. at my house growing up. About once every February a James Bond flick was ABC’s Movie of the Week, my TV viewing highlight of the year).

Actress Shirley Eaton was still beautiful in her 70s when I met her.

Actress Shirley Eaton was still beautiful in her 70s when I met her.

Shortly past Shirley, and directly across from Dave Dorman was actress Erin Moran of Happy Days fame. You might be surprised to know that petite little Erin has this husky, whiskey-and-cigarettes tone of voice that really carries…the sort of voice that literally exhausts Dave and vexes his spirit. The gregarious sort, Erin’s voice was a loud, constant drone throughout the show. Dave couldn’t escape it, penned to his table, enduring 8 hours of it on Saturday. He actually shortened his exhibit hours on Sunday, as he could no longer bear the sound of her. Erin was great to her fans, but Dave was not one of them.

Happy Days actress Erin Moran

Happy Days actress Erin Moran

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Behind Erin Moran was the very sweet and kind Carroll Spinney, the voice of Sesame Street’s Big Bird

Carroll Spinney, The Voice of SESAME STREET's BIG BIRD

Carroll Spinney, The Voice of SESAME STREET’s BIG BIRD

and actor Larry ThomasThe Soup Nazi from Seinfeld.

Actor Larry Thomas, the beloved Soup Nazi from Seinfeld

Actor Larry Thomas, the beloved Soup Nazi from Seinfeld

When my cousin Becky and I watched “Dazed and Confused,” we both felt as if we’d been partying all night just from watching it…it left us with this strange, hung-over feeling. And that’s how I felt after 8 hours at this collectors’ show with the most eclectic mash-up of TV and film figures from my lifetime. I still have the occasional dream–I’m the weirdo who remembers my dreams every morning–where I’m floating through that Holiday Inn pop culture blur…Dazed and Confused.