Good Night

When you walk into a dentist's waiting room, knowing that in a few minutes he's going to insert a three foot long needle into your mouth, one of the last things you want to see is a dead goldfish floating at the top of his fish tank. But that's not quite as bad as walking into a waiting room full of sick, bleeding, and semi-dead people at a doctor's office, and finding a BIBLE ! Even worse is coming home and hitting the blinking light on your voice mail, and hearing something like the Personal Audio in this week's Good-Night Podcast.

You could get used to taking vacations. Some people like to go on cruises. Others like to climb mountains. A few go white water rafting. I went to Florida...and almost became an orange. It was wonderful. Got me thinking about my fifth grade summer vacation. Guys had completely different fifth grade vacations from girls. Trust me.

When you see a "light at the end of the tunnel" and all you can think to yourself is, "Oh God, I hope that's the bathroom"...it's time for a VACATION. Watch out lobsters...starting tomorrow, my Lady Wonder Wench and I are COMING TO GET YOU.

I think as far as women are concerned, guys are mostly like big dogs who can talk. They have a point. We like to curl up in bed with them, we like to lick them, and we tend to be very messy. But I think that deep down, women have a hunch they could get along quite nicely without us. Somebody once said, "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle." Well... maybe so. But on the other hand... what would women do without us when a big ugly bug lands on your kitchen table ? Huh ?

It is easy to become an expert at resting. However, that does not do wonders for certain physical attributes... especially your buns. And women are big believers in beautiful buns. This is the stirring story of how one Louie-Louie Generation Guy came to grips... so to speak... with his decreasing impact on beautiful women due to his decaying buns. If this has not yet happened to you... it will.

I love you are only three words that get more attention than Once Upon A Time. Those three words make you want to curl up in front of a fireplace, light a few candles, put on some nice music...maybe a little wine...and close your eyes so you can enjoy what comes next. We have three stories for you this time. A story about a love that's dying...another about an old, hot, Louie-Louie Generation love... and a story that ties them together.

The calendar says Spring is coming. But Spring doesn't depend on a calendar. Spring comes when you take the chance on letting yourself feel like spring. There's good stuff and bad stuff about Spring. Especially about this Spring. We know...maybe way too much about the bad stuff. So let's take a look at some of the good stuff.

Auto Cannibalism is a condition that happens mostly to Louie-Louie Generation guys. Auto Cannibalism is when you bite your own tongue. When Auto Cannibalism strikes, your fingers get stiff, and then spasm back till they hit your knuckles.. you grind very naughty words out between your clenched teeth, and your eyes bulge out like they did when you realized you left your wallet with your credit cards, your pay check, and all your Ids back at the supermarket counter. My Lady Wonder Wench has an explanation for why we do it. I'll buy her explanation if you'll buy mine.

He was seen kissing my Lady Wonder Wench. She didn't resist when he unbuttoned her blouse. So why did I invite him to dinner at an expensive restaurant?

You have at least one secret name. Me too. Here's the story of my secret name. What's your story ?

Wrong! I do so think about some things besides sex. Here are some examples from this week.

Carly Simon was singing "These are the good old days" on my car's cd player, when I hit a speed bump. Check the headlines. "These are the good old days ?" Flash back to 1972 when the song was a hit. Watergate, Vietnam, The Munich Olympics. Some "good old days." But maybe she was right then...and now...if we pay attention to the Speed Bumps.

I've got my Indiana Jones fedora, my bathrobe with "The Wiz" embroidered on it...and I know how to say "SHAZAM!" But that's not what kicked my butt into (Pseudo) Super Hero orbit the other night. This is the story of what did it.

There's a New Year's Surprise this time. A big one. Because what we have here is another new year. Another new beginning. I like new beginnings. Especially the small ones...the ones only you and maybe a very few other people share. If you're not careful, they can get drowned out in the every day noise of your life. One of the nice things about the night is that there's some quiet...a little room...a safe place to remember some of those small new beginnings again.

This is about Christmas past with my family, and Christmas present with my Lady Wonder Wench. Life is good. It is very, very good. Merry Christmas.

The one word answer to the question on every guy's lips (both upper and lower) right now is, "Why do the Herald Angels get all the attention, and we don't get any?" It's that one word..."Hark!" Here's how we can work that word into our every day conversations so we can get some attention too.

Gene Chandler, The Singing Nun, and Frank Key all had one big hit. But the biggest One Hit Wonders were Joe Mohr and Franz Gruber. And I'll bet you know their song by heart. You'll also hear my favorite trumpet player this time, with one of the songs of the season. And we'll tell you how to avoid Growing Up.

A man's brain swims in a sea of testosterone, which absorbs some of the shock of getting hit in the head by baseballs, Yanni's music, and excessively high levels of verbal communication. Preservatives stop germs and fungus from maturing. Therefore testosterone is an anti-maturing chemical. That's the only real explanation for the Men are Saints Campaign. Happy Thanksgiving Recovery.

Here's the difference: Nighttime is the playpen of earthly delights...it's full of the sound of delicately perfumed black lace hitting the floor...strange soft noises in the attic...and unlimited access to ALL the Oreos in the box. As far as I'm concerned, it's appropriate that the meaning of the other word that sounds like morning is what you do at a funeral.