Monthly Archive for June, 2005

I’m working on a book proposal for my Dear Diarrheas and to tell ya the truth, it is a lot harder than I thought, going over my old ones and editing them. When I say “To tell ya the truth”, I mean that I’m being really up front and honest with you. I want to be straight up with you guys out there. Honest to the bone.

I played golf today with John Benjamin and we had a wonderful time whacking the ball around up in Garrison, New York. One of the most beautiful sceneries I’ve encountered on a golf course in a long, long time. I want to be honest with you, we both played really well and I’m itching to get back out there to do it all again next Wednesday. I love golf but a lot of people don’t love the game like I do. To them I say, “I understand. It can be a difficult game and it’s quite heavy in the pocket area if you know what I mean… So, if you don’t want to play with me on the golf course, you can leave now.”

I used to work at a golf course in Charlotte called… Oh, I don’t know…. I can’t tell you! No seriously, I could get into trouble if I reveal something that I did wrong or illegal during my stint as an employee at the club. I had fun those hot summer days washing golf carts and mowing the greens and whatnot… One of my favorite job duties was working in the pro-shop and making sandwiches and microwave pizzas and stuff for the customers. I would always make the best sandwiches because I treated everyone as though they were a young lady that I wanted to court and I wanted to impress with my equal spreading techniques. I didn’t just slop on the chicken or egg salad on the bread, I made each sandwich perfectly even in thickness, even if it took a long time to do so and the customer was agitated with my process. I’ve had conversations like this with golfers that wanted to quickly get a snack at the turn and hit the 10th tee. Something like this…

BOBBY: Hello, how can I help you this afternoon?

A sweaty redneckie golfer is digging into his wallet to get his money out. Change falls on the floor along with a pocketful of tees and other golf crap like that. He’s in a big hurry and is a bit agitated. Probably because he was sucking out there on the course.

GOLFER: Yeah, could I get a sixer of Miller Light and an egg salad sandwich?

BOBBY: Looks like you dropped some tees and stuff like that.

I point towards the floor behind him. He doesn’t even look down and ignores me.

BOBBY: What is that!? Is that the new Susan B Anthony dollar coin?

That got his attention. He turns around and looks everywhere for the coin that I jokingly said was on the floor.

GOLFER: Where?

I pull a Susan B Anthony dollar coin out of my pocket and act like I’m choking on something. Coughing and gagging like crazy. The guy behind the counter with me runs up and asks if I’m okay. I scratch him on his arm and he runs off.

GOLFER: Are you choking, man?

BOBBY: (I pull out the coin from my mouth) Uhhhh…. CHOKING ON A SUSAN B. ANTHONY DOLLAR COIN! Ha ha ha haaaa!

Then I walk to the counter with all the sandwich fixin’s and pull out a loaf of white bread. Knowing that this guy would never ask for wheat.

GOLFER: Can I have my dollar back please?

BOBBY: Nice try… That was MY Susan B,.. I was pulling a prank on you.

I bend down to look under the cabinet to look for the egg salad. I make a bunch of over dramatic straining worker grunts like you might hear an old arthritic man do if he was bending over to get something. I played this up big time. My face was really red too because I was clenching my jaw really hard to pop out the veins on my head. I liked making it look like it was really hard for me to make these PERFECTLY spread sandwiches.

BOBBY: Uuh! Owe… Oooh… Let’s see what we… oh…. Uuh- got… here?

I yelled between my legs over to the golfer. My face was really red.

BOBBY: You said you want chicken salad, errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr????????? Errrrrrr-

He finally cut me off from saying “Errrrrrr” for many seconds too long.

GOLFER: EGG SALAD! Come on now? I gotta make it to the tee!

I just stare at him through my legs, shaking my head back and forth about ten times as if to say, “I really don’t appreciate the attitude mister.”

BOBBY: So you don’t want the chicken salad… Well, well, well…. Interesting. Egg salad it is then! YAY!!!!

I dramatically grab the egg salad flick it into the air really quick, spin around and catching the container behind my back. The blood rushed out of my head too fast and I black out, dropping the container of egg salad which spills all over the floor. Carl, the guy that I scratched earlier runs back to me.

CARL: Bobby? Bobby!… Wake up! WAKE UP!!!

Carl screams as loud as he can. Sounding like a lady on fire. EVERYBODY in the pro –shop runs up to the counter. I wake up in mid-scream…

CARL: Someone call the hospital!!! (Screams again even louder)

GOLFER: Shut up, man! He’s awake!… Holy shit.

I get up slowly, shaking my head again in disgust.

BOBBY: Okay… What seems to be the problem here? Why is egg salad all over the floor Carl?! What happened here Carl?!

GOLFER: Can I get my GD sandwich please! Jesus Christ-

BOBBY: Whoa whoa whoa whooooooaa!!! Do not say the lord’s name in here!!! You need to calm down and ask me politely what kind of sandwich you want or I’m gonna be forced to close the snack shop down.

I was acting like I forgot everything that happened before the fall because I was embarrassed that I made myself pass-out.

GOLFER: Just give me the beer! Damnit you guys are crazy in here! Hurry and just give me the fucking beer before I call Rusty…

BOBBY: Rusty?! You want to call Rusty?! Go on ahead and call him! I don’t give a crap! You don’t like how I run the snack shop, then go ahead and call him…

The golfer pulls out his phone and starts to dial. He is LIVID now, his face a lot brighter red than mine ever was. And all the veins! He looked great!

CARL: Don’t let him call Rusty, Bobby!

Carl runs up to the golfer and grabs the phone out of his hand.

CARL: Listen listen listen!!!! I’m sooooo sorry about this little incident here…(He grabs a six pack of beer and hands it to him) Here… Take this for free…

Carl then grabs practically ALL the cheesits from the chip holder and stuffs them into a bag.

BOBBY: What-THE FUCK… are you doing Carl?

I grab the bag of cheeseits from him…

GOLFER: (Into phone) Rusty?… Rust- Can you put Rusty on the phone please?… He’s not there? Damnit!… No, I’ll call him tonight. Tell him I’m at the club and I have something VERY important to tell him about one of his workers… Thanks, bye.

That’s when it hit me who Rusty was. I actually forgot who he was because of the fall that I took. Rusty was my girlfriend’s father that got me the job. I was in deep shit.

BOBBY: Ohhhhh!!!! I know who Rusty is now!

Then I start laughing really hard and hug Carl from behind, laughing and embarrassed that I briefly forgot who Rusty was and how I was daring the golfer dude to call him.

BOBBY: Ha ha haaa… Holy hell. I was all like “Go ahead and call him!” and the whole time I had no clue who you were talking about. I must’ve really banged my head pretty hard there…. Man, I’m really sorry about that… ha ha haaaa.

Then I rip the bag of cheeseits out of Carl’s hand again and give it to the golfer. Then I go into the cash register and give the man a hundred dollars and after I gave it to him I put my finger over his mouth and made a long shhhhhh noise as if to say, ‘Let’s keep this between us.”

CARL; That’s not right Bob-

BOBBY AND GOLFER TOGETHER: Shut up Carl!

Bobby knows that everything is gonna be all right and his hush money worked perfectly.

BOBBY: (looking around the room) Let’s just say… I gave you your CHANGE back from this?

Then I pull out the Susan B Anthony from behind Carl’s head, flick it into the air and right when I’m about to catch it, the golfer snags it out of the air and puts it into his pocket.

GOLFER: (smiling now with a case of free beer, free cheesits and a hundred free dollars) I’ll take my dollar back too…

He walks to the door.

BOBBY: That really was my dollar coin… (Awkward beat) I’m serious, I use that coin all the time and stuff…

The golfer genuinely realizes Bobby is right and digs into his pocket.

GOLFER: I think you might be right about that. I don’t ever remember having one of these.

He flicks it back to Bobby and Bobby tries to dramatically catch it really hard and instead hits it with his knuckle and it pops Carl in the eye and the coin goes into the egg salad.

Bobby laughs and hugs Carl again.

BOBBY: Shit Carl… I’m really sorry about that. Man what a spaz I am today, huh? Now go get a mop and clean up the egg salad. It’s your turn to clean it this time…

That was just a typical day at the golf course…

Or something like that…

Actually, that didn’t really happen, but looking back, I wish I had been nicer to Carl. He was just doing his job. People just don’t take kindly to his screaming and I was having a really weird day. You know what? I’m going to call his fake-ass right now and apologize to him. I’ll just use this banana right here…

Today is the Puerto Rican day parade and I’m actually excited about it for the first time since I’ve been living in NYC. I don’t know why I am but I think it has something to do with the weather and all the nostalgia that goes with it. When the parade is going on, that means that summer is in full swing and it makes me want to plan on going to central park and watch as many outdoor concerts as possible. The Puerto Rican day parade also makes me appreciate how loud and vibrant this great city can be and how badly I want to get out of town as much as I can this summer and go camping and hiking and bird and bug listening. For now, being about 2pm and in Union Square, it is all quiet and sane on the Puerto Rican day of celebration with the majority of the festivities taking place uptown and in central park. The only time I get a little agitated is when they turn the Puerto Rican DAY parade into the NIGHT parade with hundreds and hundreds of well decorated cars blasting music in accord throughout the night and well into the next morning. Almost like they are lobbying to the city to extend the mini-holiday into, Oh, I don’t know… The Puerto REEKEND parade!!!! Yay!!!! I love plays on words!

Noise pollution, that’s an interesting subject. I wonder how much hearing damage would be done if they had the Puerto Rican day parade, the Hells Angels day parade and the Blue Angels day parade in NY at the same time? Then the next day the city had the Deaf Mute parade and the Keep A Secret Day parade at the same time just to freak everyone out. The quietest parades on wheels! (Oh, The Keep A Secret Day parade is the parade where everybody whispers secrets to one and other and all you see are a bunch of people on floats blushing. It’s very quiet)

I wonder what the longest parade is? As in length… I should organize the longest parade ever that goes all the way across the country and back using the same people, floats and marching bands and it never stops. I need to go across the street to Barnes and Noble and check out the latest Guinness Book of Records and see what the longest one is first. It might’ve been done already. And if it has, I’ll just throw a little curve ball and have the longest parade in reverse. Which I don’t think has ever happened and I probably could do that tomorrow if I wanted to break a record. Just get a couple floats and a marching band and have them drive and walk backwards respectively for a couple of blocks in my neighborhood, video tape it, send it to the facts department at Guinness, and get myself down in the record books. I’m going to look stupid if that has been done before. I wrote that with a shit-load of confidence like there has never been a backwards parade. I REALLY have to check out the record books now! (But in all honesty, I’m not going to go over to Barnes and Noble and look to see if I’m right or wrong because I’ll just get caught up in using their bathroom and reading woodworking magazines for an hour or so. Maybe I’ll use this opportunity to invite someone to do the research for me and see what the longest parade has been and if indeed there was ever a parade in reverse. The first one to email me directly at bobby@bobbytisdale.com with the answer will get a free pencil with my name on it. You can’t beat that!)

I need to go now and get some red white and blue earplugs for tonight’s parade.

Three days in a row of nice weather! Makes me really happy. Just walked past a construction site and there smacked all over the temporary wall was a bunch of promotional posters for Stella’s new show. Makes me think how successful my friends are and how hard I have to work to get my face all over the city. Lots of constant reminders. The funny thing is that the longer you stick with this business the better the chances you have at having your face plastered all over the city, in some way or another. I’ve seen a certain person that had his face plastered all over the city promoting his comedy coaching classes. That’s one way to get your face out there… I’m so glad I don’t smoke anymore.

I pulled a muscle throwing Frisbee on Sunday in the park. There was a nice little gathering in the great lawn and my age caught up to me on a few hard tosses with the flying disk. I can barely raise my right arm over someone’s head. I want to be super athletic but unfortunately I’m not anymore. I’m sitting outside at Astor Place and the lady sitting in front of me has now successfully chained smoked her third cigarette in a row. And it’s the stereotypical chain smoking where she lit the next one with her last smoke. Almost like she was on a deserted island and she had to keep the lung fire burning because she didn’t have any matches. Good luck to her and I will keep you updated.

I remember when I used to smoke when I was working at Myers Park Country Club in Charlotte North Carolina back in 1988-89. I timed how long it took to smoke a cigarette and it took seven minutes on average to enjoy a smoke. When smoking and having a conversation with a person and using excessive hand gestures, you might want to add another minute or so to the time. But just sitting by yourself, watching golfers walk from the ninth hole to the clubhouse, an average smoke was almost always seven minutes. Don’t get me wrong, I had those lovely smoke breaks where I was out in the pouring rain and I inhaled a cigarette in a minute and a half… God I used to be such a badass!!! When I first quit smoking I knew that I would be gaining about two hours a day of not smoking and I had a panic attack thinking about what I could do to fill that time. Eat baby carrots? Did that and it almost ate a hole in my stomach. Two hours of not sitting or walking with a cigarette a day! Wow. Crazy times. I think I walked about twenty blocks a day the first month of not smoking. And I also flicked my fingertips together nervously a billion times after I quit. I still do that to this day… I’m done with the smoking subject because I was just bitten by a mosquito and I’m a little worried about what it pumped into my body.

I might go home to NC this week or the next and get some good southern hospitality all into my blood. Boy I need it. I just want to drive around some county roads and throw caution into the wind. I’ve been waiting to use that phrase in something and that was a good time to do it. I would just like to warn people now that I’ll be driving down those country roads. I’ll do my best to scream out the window and give them a heads up that I will not stop until I hit either a stop sign or a stoplight. Just throwing caution into the wind.

I just got zapped by another mosquito and I should’ve just let him suck the life out of me. With the week I had last week I deserve to have a mosquito suck all the blood out of my body and splatter it all over a person in need. Find a lonely and hungry vampire and hand over a twenty-pound mosquito with all of my blood as a gift. (I don’t know how much blood from a typical male my size would weigh, but I’m assuming that a mosquito wouldn’t be able to fly and would have to walk or be wheeled to a vampire if it were filled with all of my blood) I wonder how much blood a mosquito would hold if you just let him suck it out of you? That’s a super ADD thing to do. Holding a stop watch and watching a mosquito suck your blood. A little bit like me timing myself smoking a cigarette. Both of which would be sucking the life out of me. What if you surgically put a tube running out of the mosquito’s stomach so the blood would just pour out of him or her? I bet it would keep sucking blood forever because it would never feel full. That would be a great way to torture someone… The Chinese mosquito torture, coming to a war near you!

Update… The smoking lady took a break to go to the bathroom and right when she got outside she had a cigarette in her mouth and lit three steps out of the door. Even the best smokers know when to take a break. Funny, I don’t see any mosquitoes swarming around her.