Never Mix Your Neighbors And Your Prostrate Adventures...

Never mix your neighbors and your prostrate adventures...true story...


Yes, I've been on the quiet side, but I'm still hard at work.  My health issues are clearing themselves up.  I have job stuff coming up that will be requiring me to work more hours over the next week or so.  But, in spite of all that...I have decided to put "Tina's Crucifix" on the back burner to tell this one true story from my neighborhood.

Also I'd like to thank and welcome two new readers...one down in Florida and the other in New York City.  Welcome to my craziness online.  I hope you both continue to enjoy what you're reading.  It's all about the smiles.

Now this story I'm about to tell is ohh so very, very true.  It falls under the category of "You just can't make this stuff up."  Names will definitely be changed to protect the innocent, the guilty...and  above all - prostrate glands throughout the world.  Ready?  So here it goes...

About ten years ago I was at school pickup in my neighborhood.  It's a cold, overcast day in late February.  Rain seems imminent just as we're getting closer to the doors being opened.  Now in my lovely suburban neighborhood, the school pick up is done mostly by mothers - with exception to us fathers who work nights, overnights or have convenient days off.  I was working overnights and weekends at that time.

So due to my work hours, and my propensity to talk and instigate humorous bad behavior in people...I end up becoming friends with a lot of mommies and a few daddies from my town.  It's the City Boy, Social Butterfly in me.  It has helped me and my family become friends with many families as well as helped my older kids have an easier adjustment when we moved into our town from the city, in 1999.  In my town I've been known do bagel deliveries to my neighbor's doorstep, on a Sunday morning, with the family standing behind me singing Christmas carols (in the spring).  I've also been known to climb over fences to crash house parties (to the delight of the party goers of course).  I've also delivered a large shopping bag full of toilet paper rolls to a neighbor who once ran out of toilet paper at one of her famous house parties (there was really extra paper underneath the sink, however she's such a perfectionist that I couldn't let the opportunity to tease her the next day slip away).

Now back to this overcast day at school pick up.  So I'm standing out there waiting near the doors with two other neighbors, let's call them Rose and Maria.  We're standing there with our umbrellas and a freezing blast of air and rain and sleet starts pouring down on us.  We're freezing along with 60 other parents standing out there 20 minutes early like us.  Suddenly we get a car horn honk from another neighbor...umm..let's call her..."Crazy" Kelly.  Those of us who know Kelly, know that she's pretty bold and crazy when she gets going in conversation.  But that day, Crazy Kelly would really top herself.  Needless to say, Kelly has parked in the perfect spot on the street where she can see the school doors and best of all...she's sitting inside her huge SUV.  Kelly waves for the three of us to join her in her car to get out of the elements.  We gladly take her up on her offer.  I plop myself in the back seat.

Once inside the car, it's a pretty typical conversation...kids, work, bad weather and not getting sick.  Then the conversation turns instantly into an anti male/father conversation...all of this spearheaded by Crazy Kelly.  Rose and Maria are constantly looking back at me...having their laughs at my expense, as I am outnumbered in the truck 3 to 1.  I could've cared any less.  I was parked a block away and was freezing my behind off just 3 minutes earlier.  I grew up around women and know how they can talk about men.  Knock yourself out Crazy Kelly.  And she did.  Crazy Kelly took a leap in her anti-male/father routine and drifted onto this "You men are all the same...Just like my Donald (her husband)...one stroke of his prostrate...and he can't get enough...keeps coming back for more..."

Well needless to say time had virtually stopped inside that car.  The jaws of Rose and Maria hit the back of the drivers seat and dashboard, respectively speaking.  Their eyes started darting back and fourth at each other, and to me, like in one of those Spaghetti Western movies.  I didn't care.  My body was just getting warmed back up  from the heat in the car and I didn't think twice about what Kelly was saying - although I heard it pretty plain and clear.  Rose and Maria on the other hand, were dumbfounded.

Crazy Kelly realized the other two women were stunned and proceeded to break it down for them.  I was in my mid thirties at this time.  I think I had earned a lifetime membership to Playboy, Penthouse and Cosmopolitan (via my older sister) by that stage of my life and was quite well versed in what Crazy was talking about.  Hell, by that point of my life, I had already had my first rounds of colonoscopy and prostrate exams, so I didn't need a "breakdown".  But Crazy was insistent to help the other two sets of virgin ears in the truck.

"Well you see, I did the prostrate thing one time for Donny, and the fool liked it so much that that's all he asks for now, everyday.  You know you should have your wife to try it with you at home.  Do you need for me to explain how to do it?"

Now mind you, she asked me this ask if we were trading baking recipes and cooking techniques.  My response was easily anticipated.  I just simply deadpanned, "No, no Kelly.  I'm good.  I'm really, really good with those boring, old fashioned ways of sex with the wifey.  There'll be no gold digging in my house."

Well Rose and Maria nearly turned purple to keep from laughing at this point.  When the first pick up bell finally ranged Rose and Maria nearly slipped and fell getting out of that truck.  That bell was a life saver for them.  To say that three of us laughed about that conversation in the truck doesn't nearly quite capture that moment.  We were in tears...for days...about that conversation that we shared with our spouses and other neighbors.

Fast forward that following summer at a house party on my block.  Of course I have now mischievously shared this "prostrate story" with all my neighbors on the block who  are likewise married - about 6 sets of us at the time.  And to add to the joke, I would bring it up and then walk backwards following my wife, hunching my butt up to her and yelling "S'il vous plait, s'il vous plait!" (that's French for "please, please")

Of course that brought on guffaws, table slapping laughs, people falling out of chairs.  Tears are pouring out of our eyes.  The wives can't stand up straight as now all the husbands are doing this "butt hunching thing to them too" at this house party.  We all happen to know Crazy Kelly and Donald from the town.  Donald is a big, quiet guy who sticks to himself in the neighborhood.  Little does he know his wife is sharing his favorite bedroom recipe.  Now I'm not one to judge.  To each his own.  But I am one to make jokes, and this was prime real estate.  It was just too much information to not laugh about.  But...that night...the joke we had been enjoying for months...got even better.

After a few beers and some tear wiping...guess who shows up at the backyard party on my block??  Yep, Donald and Crazy Kelly.  Surprise!  So like most couples when they join a party...the male joins the men, and the female joins the women.  Neither Crazy or Donny knew that we had just been crying laughing about them, 30 minutes prior to their arrival.  To make matters even worse...when Donny sits with the fellas...he looked a little sad and depressed.  He just didn't look happy on that beautiful summer night. 

What usually happens when someone sits next to you looking sad?  Invariably you ask them, what's wrong?  Is everything okay?  Are you sick or have the bug?  Yep, that would be normal.

Instead, me and my fellow trouble makers at the table that night were asking him if he had any "back problems" or suggested that perhaps he "needed a laxative," perhaps he needed to "borrow a drill" for the work he was doing in his house, and that we liked the fact that his wifey was pretty "handy around the house" and helped him fix things.  At some point someone at the table...OK it was me...yelled out words like "lubricant" and "bottoms up" for no good reason.  Well...I meant more beers?  My bottle was empty?  My throat was dry?  Either way, Crazy Kelly and Donald's eventual departure only brought on another round of laughter.

That was some ten years ago.  Times have changed changed.  Crazy Kelly and Donald moved from the neighborhood.  So did two of the couples from the block.  Only a handful of us now actually get together for a summer house party.  I have two younger kids now and sometimes interact with these newer families.  In addition, I don't have to do as many school pickups as I did with my older kids.  Today most of the kids from the block hang out with one another more than the adults do.

So for those of us who remember the prostrate joke, it was definitely an all-time classic.  Cheers to the neighbors on my block, in my neighborhood and to Crazy Kelly and Donald for giving me yet another funny story to share with people from around the world.