Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I'm greatly disturbed... "Oh, we could've told you that a long time ago -- it's the worst kept secret since Joan Rivers' nips and tucks." Let me explain, please. I have a valid reason for saying I'm disturbed. "Pssssst... it's sad how disturbed people are always the last to know...." Please, give me a moment to clarify -- "Oh, it's perfectly clear, you're an absolute wack job." What I'm disturbed about is that there are kids around the world who wear fake braces as a status symbol! "Say whuh? How does one brace oneself for such calamitous news?" Whatever happened to fancy sports cars or overpriced designer jeans to show off one's status? "We'll have to ask the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills -- as soon as they return with their new cheeks." It really irks me that kids in countries I can't pronounce will remove their braces like a pair of shoes -- or chanclas -- when they get home: "Boy, my teeth are bushed! -- I think I'll take off my braces." Who are these shallow kids? Are they really rich or do they just pretend to be? "For now, let's pretend not to hear you." Faux braces -- "Did you just cuss?!" -- are an insult to the generations of kids who've suffered with real braces -- in other words, oral blisters! "I always thought they were marshmallows." I tell ya, back in my day, barbed wired was used to straighten teeth! Not only that -- "What else is there?" -- I'd walk through blizzards for miles to get to my ortho appointments -- on time! "We believe you..." You don't believe me! I still have the scars to prove I wore legitimate braces, too. Wanna see 'em? "The scars, no." Why so squeamish? "I'm not a squirrel." Heck, I'm so marked, I play Tic Tack Toe with the inside of my mouth. "We prefer checkers." Yeah, there's nights I still wake up in a cold sweat, wincing as the ortho tightens my braces with all his might: "Not the pliers, doc! Not the pliers!" It's a miracle I'm a contributing member of society... "That's according to you." I've had nightmares where my mouth explodes into a spectacular array of bloody blisters. "We'll never see the 4th of July in quite the same way..." Wearing braces was no fun, I tell ya. I mean, my lips would get so puffy, friends would ask if I was Mick Jagger's kid. All that pain and suffering, I deserve a medal or something, in my humble opinion. Maybe a coin with my likeness. "We wouldn't like that..." Fake braces, please... How dumb are today's kids? "We don't know. We haven't met yours." Take that back! Take that back now! "Fine, we have met your kids..."
I want to admit something. "Oh, you don't have to share that with us." But I want to. "Whatever you do behind closed doors is your business -- just make sure they're locked." What are you talking about? "What are you talking about?" It's nothing bad. "We'll be the judge of that..." I want to admit that I'm learning to like a good party as much as the next guy... "What next guy? Your imaginary friend? Aren't you a little old for that?" I don't have an imaginary friend... "Oh, so you're anti-social?" I recently learned that gorillas have birthday parties, too. "What about bachelor parties? I bet those turn into Gorillas Gone Wild." That, you'll have to ask somebody else about... "Maybe I'll ask your imaginary friend -- I can pretend too, you know?" Hearing about gorilla birthday parties got me to wondering why I've never been invited to such gatherings. First, I get passed over for the Golden Globe after-parties, then the Academy Awards' -- and now this? I'm not good enough for gorilla parties? "Obviously not." This is definitely upsetting. "Oh, you're not missing much..." You think so? "I could be wrong..." I bet gorilla parties are overrated. "They're so 80's..." I don't wanna go to no stinkin' gorilla party! Don't invite me 'cuz I'll turn you down! "That's the spirit!" Beside, what would I get a gorilla for his birthday anyway? "A jungle gym?" And how do you dress for such occasions? "You'd have to go like Tarzan..." You think so? "You'd have to walk around in a leopard print thong..." I don't wanna do that... "NOBODY wants you to do that." You know, all this birthday party talk brings back memories of when I was a kid... "Is it humanly possible to remember that far back?" Yeah, my parents never let me go to birthday parties when I was a kid. My mom thought the ice cream would be too cold and I'd sick... "You could've put it in the oven..." To my parents' credit, they had parties for me at the house -- but no friends from school were allowed to come over. It's like my folks thought my schoolmates had the chicken pox -- or leprosy. "Or runny green snot?" At a very young age my parents instilled in me the notion that schoolmates could be around me Monday thru Friday -- but not the weekends. "But you came out of it okay, right? You're well-adjusted." I think so. Other than my daily bouts with social anxiety, I'm doing great!
Recently I was very, very impressed, and that's not an easy thing to do... "By the way, has anyone ever mentioned that you're very, very unimpressive yourself..." It behooves me to ignore that. "It be whose what?" Getting back to my impressionable reaction, I was quite stunned to learn that a couple of New Zealand dogs recently passed their driving tests. "How 'bout that, there is hope for your teenage daughter!" Yeah, tell that to our insurance company... Now that I think about it, teaching dogs to drive can't be that much different than teaching teens, right? "Listen to you; how could you say that?" Well, anytime we tell our kid to slow down in residential neighborhoods, she barks at us... On second thought, I wouldn't want to be the driving instructor for our Shih Tzu... "Careful how you say that, buddy!" I can just see that poor dog trying to parallel park while cars are waiting... "Well, if somebody would cut that mop covering his eyes!" You know, all this talk about student drivers reminds me of the driver's ed. instructor I had back in high school. "They had cars back then?" Not that I hold grudges, but... "Go ahead, spill your guts -- let it all out." That short little dude was so mean, he surely had a Napoleon complex... "Ooh, I love Neapolitan .." To this day, I still don't know why he hated me so much. He was so mean... "How mean was he?" Meaner than mean... "You really mean it, don't you?" For whatever reason, the mean little man with tight curls -- I'll never forget his puffy head! -- had it in for me. The dude yelled at me every chance he could: "The car's already on! -- why are you touching the ignition?! Why?! Why?! You owe me a starter!" Sorry, but that S.O.B. was some kind of ogre... "Yogurt?" Ogre! I can still hear that bitter, angry voice: "Don't forget your turn signal! -- you forgot the turn signal!" And yet, the diminutive five-foot dragon was always smiling, always flashing those coffee-stained teeth when any girls were around: "Good morning, ladies... Ready for your ride?" With me, all he did was glare. And seethe. Like I was a nuisance to the world -- his world. "Alright, alright, it's time you got over it. Move on..." Please, just tell me one thing: what did those girls have that I didn't have?! Huh? Tell me! "Perfume -- and we'll leave it at that..."
I guess I'll never learn: I took a quick peek at something that appeared to be spam the other day. "I've never liked spam. I much prefer ham." No, no, I'm not talking about that kind of spam. I'm talking about electronic spam. "Can't say I've tried it. Sounds difficult to digest..." No, I mean spam found in your computer, in your e-mail... "Oh, that kind of spam. You should've said so..." I tried, but you weren't listening. "It's not the first time -- nor the last..." Getting back to the subject line, it read: Remember me? I've got some bad news... While I didn't open the enticing e-mail, those few words caused me an anxious moment. "You have anxiety attacks?" I wouldn't go that far. "I'll go farther -- they're panic attacks. What is it you did that's such bad news?" All I can think of is that maybe I've been referred to collections. "Shame on you, you financial fraud!" You see, as a kid, I never paid for a certain magazine subscription... "This magazine, did it have pictures of people in great physical shape?" Yeah, football. "Oh..." But that bill, I claim ignorance. "You should do that more often." How was I supposed to know I had to mail that money order! I bought it, I just never sent it. "What's a money order?" My dad begged me to pay the outstanding balance, but I never listened... "And you call yourself a good son..." It's not that bad, is it? It was just a few dollars. "Just a few dollars? Do you know what Third World countries would do for that dough?" Can we change the topic, please? I'm getting stressed over something that may not even be... "Be what?" Maybe this so-called 'bad news' stems from the time in elementary school when I threw rocks at a certain girl (That was my way of showing girls I cared a lot about them.). "Tell us more about those rocks -- were they insidious or metamorphic?" I'm not sure, but I let rocks fly on that last day of school -- "Have a great summer!" -- with good intentions. I never saw the target of my affections again. "What if one of those rocks hit that poor girl and changed her life forever -- she's returned seeking revenge. Maybe that's the bad news." Gee, I hope not. I didn't mean to hurt her... "Yeah, I'm sure that e-mail's from her..." You think? "Positive. I bet she played in the National Football League, but wants to blame you for her post concussion syndrome." I didn't give her a concussion. "She failed against the NFL's lawyers, so she's come back to squeeze a few bucks out of you..." Come on, she never played football. "We know your type, powerful and sturdy. Strong as a country ox..." I swear, I've never been attracted to girls that resemble a football player -- nor oxen. "That's not what we hear..." Who's we? Tell me who -- okay, okay, I admit it! There was a time in my life when I had a thing for girls and cleats -- and eye black. But that was ages ago. A lifetime... "That's alright, buddy... Don't cry... We're not here to judge... Whatever floats your boat..."
I was surprised to learn the other day that Kim Kardashian's decided to stop signing autographs... "That is surprising, that you have the ability to learn..." Here we go, off to another rocky start... "Okay, I'll behave. Who's this Kim Karwashian person anyway? -- she a guy or a girl?" Kim Kardashian's a girl -- trust me. "Are you sure?" Positive. "There's guys named Kim, too, you know?" Yes, I'm aware of that, but believe me when I say this particular Kim's a Kim, as in a female. But that's beside the point... "Surely, you didn't know that Shirley was a popular boy's name many years ago..." You know, I didn't know... "That seems to be the story of your life..." If you'll allow me, Kim K's not signing autographs anymore, but that's okay because I'm here to help fill the void. "And all this time I thought you were a guy." I am. "Well then, how exactly are you going to fill the void created by this Kimmy person?" Drumroll please... "I prefer a drumstick." I've decided to make myself available for autograph signings. "Great -- I'll be happy to give you my autograph." Uh no, I meant I'll offer my John Hancock to autograph seekers... "Good enough, but let's keep it clean..." Now, before I start, I need to establish some groundrules. "Let me guess: you won't accept personal checks..." First off, don't bother me at the supermarket; I can't get distracted as I have to make sure to get the right crackers -- only those with a 'hind of salt.' "What else, Mr. Egomaniac?" Autograph seekers shall not approach me in poorly lit areas. "Why, are you afraid of the Boogie Man?" No, I don't want to strain my eyes. And have a pen ready, please -- I don't have time to waste! "Sounds reasonable. What else?" Don't seek my autograph while I'm in the middle of my beloved frappuccino -- I hate watery drinks! "Don't we all?" And one final condition: not that I'm superstitious but I refuse to sign 13 minutes before or after any hour of the day. Or night. "Question: are you willing to autograph people's body parts?" For that, I'll have to ask my wife. So, for now, let's stick to auto parts. "Great -- I have these fuel injectors I'd like you to sign..."
I don't want to limit my audience, but this one's especially for the ladies. "Oh really? What, us guys aren't good enough for you? Huh? Huh? Huh?!" Actually, it's for the guys, too. "Sure it is..." I don't want to exclude anybody. "Too late!" What I'd like to do is tell the ladies about an absolute must-get for their favorite man. "An even bigger flat screen TV? -- Yes!" Well no, not exactly... "No?! And you call yourself a man?!" Look, what I'm alluding to goes beyond pixels and rear projection... "Watch what you say there, buddy." I'm here to inform the ladies about investing a few dollars in bacon -- and it won't affect their man's cholesterol levels in any way... "Is HDL the good cholesterol or the bad cholesterol? -- or is it LDL?" Listen, I couldn't believe my ears -- nor prickly stubble -- when I first learned about bacon shaving cream. "What? -- bacon shaving cream?!" Yes, isn't that something? I couldn't make this one up if I tried... "I thought you were the creative type." I think I'm creative, yes. "Yet you can't make up a story about shaving cream that smells like bacon?" I guess I could, if I tried hard enough... "That doesn't bode well for your writing career if you have limited creativity." Can we move on, please? "Thanks to you, I'm ready to eat a bacon-wrapped hotdog -- Oink! Oink!" You don't believe me... "What's next, pancake facewash? -- scrambled egg aftershave?!" You're mocking me... "And you're making my belly growl!" I just want the ladies to know that bacon shaving cream allows a guy to make a pig of himself -- and it's perfectly swine, uh, fine! "Damn right it is..." Admittedly, I wouldn't want to smell like bacon, but that's just me... "And you call yourself an American?" The good news is, the product actually exists and at a reasonable price. "But you'll never use it..." Hey, I want the ladies and gents to know what's available, that's all... "Well, thank you for your tireless research..." Oh, there's this one other product I'd like to share with you... "Let me guess: pizza perfume." Hey, how'd you know? "I can smell the pepperoni on my wife from a mile away..."
I don't like to lie. "You're lying." No, I'm being honest -- I don't like to lie. "Who do you think you are, Honest Abe? -- you don't even wear a hat!" And due to my honest ways, I was extremely bothered by a strange e-mail the other day. "Which day?" I don't recall. "That is strange..." The e-mail claimed that everyone I know is a lie. "No way -- you're lying." I wish I was... What drives people to come up with such lies? "How do you know it's a lie?" My kids aren't lies! If they were, I wouldn't have so many bills! "Ah, come on, they can't be that expensive." No? What do you call braces, shoes -- back to school clothes! "Expenses I like to avoid..." You know, all this talk reminds me of a show that hinges on lies. Lots of them. "Let me guess: 'I Love Lucy' -- I love that show!" No, not -- "That's not Ricky's real accent is it?! -- and Lucy's not a redhead!" That's not the show I'm talking about... "So tell us then." I'm talking about 'Pretty Little Liars.' "Wait a minute, you watch that? That's a girly teen show!" Uh, I have a teen daughter, remember? "Now that you mention it, I don't remember -- should I be worried? I played a lot of football as a kid, took some hard shots to the head..." Look, it's not that I never watch 'Pretty Little Liars'... Once in awhile, I pass by when my daughter's watching an episode, so I'll catch a minute or two... "Remember, you don't like to lie..." Okay, so I'll watch the entire episode! So sue me! "Actually, I'd rather settle out of court..." From what I understand, the show centers on a murder that occurred several TV seasons ago -- at least four! The main characters are high school girls who all happen to be pretty. "Where do I enroll?" These girls lie to everybody, keep good grades, and try to catch the villain -- without ever messing up their hair! This has gone on for years! "Sounds believable to me..." Really? "You tell us -- you're the expert dad..." At the rate the show's going, they'll have to rename it 'Lil' Lying Grannies.' "Hey, that sounds like a spin-off, where crime-solving grandmas wield their mighty canes." You like it? "Pitch it to Hollywood, make a boatload of money." Yeah? You really think so?! "Nah, I was only lying..."
