If I look like an asshole in the bathroom...

Have you ever just looked at someone and immediately known their whole personality and demeanor just based on appearance?  I can't tell you how many times I've heckled someone for having their outward appearance completely mirror their inward appearance.  I admit that I joke around a lot and one of my favorite past times is heckling people.  Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it or even mean to do it, it just happens.  A few years ago Pone and I went to a casino to see Don Rickles perform.  The best part of the night was when he heckled a guy in a white suit, that I had also heckled an hour earlier.  It was truly one of those things that I consider to be the greatest moments in my life.  Right up there with adopting the dogs and getting engaged to Pone.  Well, maybe the Rickles thing first.

Back in January, I contacted a friend of mine because Don Rickles; at the age of 90 was touring again.  Pone didn't want to go, as he's already seen him with me once. So my friend got tickets for the show, and two weeks ago I saw Rickles again.  It was a mixed crowd, with with tons of people that were absolute caricatures of themselves.  I was enjoying myself, posing my friend in front of people that I wanted to take pictures of. There was one woman who eluded me all night, she had on red leggings, a ridiculous floral print shirt, and the largest buzziest hair I've ever seen, complete with a big red ribbon.  At the end go the show Rickles did a Q and A with the audience.  This woman stood up and said that her lifelong dream was to be heckled by Don Rickles himself.  He took one look at her and told her to get rid of the "trick or treat Charlie," outfit she was wearing, and go back to the beauty salon and have them "do something decent with your hair."  By far the best part of the night! Not once, but twice now, I have heckled the same person as my all time hero.

The actual text with my friend about going to see Don Rickles (I'm the one in green)

This morning I was getting ready for work, at my new job as a dog trainer.  The people from corporate were coming so I had to put on the regulation outfit, instead of just wearing my normal clothes.  As I was finishing doing my hair, I caught a glimpse of what I looked like in the mirror and wanted heckle myself.  I looked down and realized for the first time in my life, that I totally looked the way I am.  The outside matched the inside; and I'm not going to lie, I kinda wanted to punch myself.  Standing there in that red shirt I heard my reflection say "Hi, my name is Lee.  I'm 35 years old.  I enjoy going to the gym and working out.  I have two dogs that I like to walk for at least a mile everyday. I don't think movies with Will Ferrell are funny. I drive a station wagon.  I'm bisexual.  I've also been known to wear clogs and I own a down a vest."

The realization was startling. Like when you pull out your phone to take a picture and you accidentally hit the reverse button.  So you only see yourself without makeup and a double chin. It was like staring into the void, and instead of getting a beautiful truth from the universe, I got back something ugly and unsettling.

"If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?'  If I look like an asshole, in the bathroom, by myself, does that mean that I'm not allowed to heckle it? But if I do not heckle myself, who will heckle me?  If I only heckle myself, who am I? If not now, when?

Birthdays, sunshine, lollipops and touchholes

So I turned 35 today.  I totally almost forgot my own birthday because we've had so many things going on lately.  With starting a new job, planning a get together with friends, a trip to NY and Pone being interviewed for a documentary; it was easy to forget.

Growing up the whole year revolved around birthdays and when that day finally came it was always filled with excitement, friends, gifts, "sunshine and lollipops."  Getting older, excitement on your birthday usually entails not having to go to work and not having to cook dinner.  Maybe your friend from 7th grade will wish you a happy birthday on Facebook.

When I was 14, my aunt who has the charisma of a rabid skunk, sent me a birthday card that said Happy 13th Birthday!  We all laughed about it at every birthday for the entire year.  Since she was turning 40 that year we all toyed with the idea of sending her a card wishing her a happy 50th birthday. The next year she sent me the exact same card.

A few years ago Pone and I started a new tradition of telling people that you are 10 years older than you really are on your birthday.  That way when you disclose your age people tell you how awesome you look.  Apparently, no one else thinks this is funny.  They always tell me that I'm supposed to say that I'm younger than I really am.  I don't see the humor in that.

Some of you are already aware of my sense of humor.  For those that aren't, I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy.  I've dressed the dog's touchhole up like Santa for a holiday card, and last year I made Pone drive 3 hours just so we could go to Mianus CT. For the record, Mianus is a very nice place.  We even had a friend meet us there for lunch. I had a salad, Pone had a sandwich and my friend had a hot dog.  Little did he know that I would use that as an excuse to ask him if he enjoyed having a wiener in Mianus.

Someone with poor vision actually thought this was a photo of me proving that I am in fact a touchhole

About a month ago Pone and I went to the Brimfield Antique Show.  The Brimfield Antique show runs for 6 days and brings out all sorts of weirdos in search of treasures from the past.  Pone likes to look for old weird tools and medical devices he can use in his art.  I like going places to people watch, plus any place that might have classic Muppet memorabilia or taxidermy is fine by me.

Anyone that knows me in real life or on Twitter knows all about this already, because of my inability to let things go. But here's the story.  We got to the antique show and in the first 30 minutes of being there I found a taxidermied deer's ass, with a fox tail.  It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen.  I've been searching for a taxidermied deer's ass for quite some time.  It was a genuine "shut up and take my money," moment.  I didn't care what the price tag was on it, I just knew I needed it.  When Pone asked the seller how much my holy-grail of a deer ass was, the gentleman in charge said that because of some ordinance in the town, he was unable to sell it to us.  He explained that while they were setting up their booth, local law enforcement had been by to inform them that they were keeping tabs on all of the pieces.  That they would be fined or even arrested if any pieces were sold or not accounted for in the days ahead.

Two touchholes

I was so upset.  I finally found what I had been searching for and I couldn't have it.  It reminded me of the great Twiddle Bug search of 1998.  When I was 17, and looking for this Sesame Street beanie baby that didn't seem to exist.  We had gone on vacation to Canada, and it was a Sunday at the end of the trip and I spotted the beanie baby in a store window.  I ran to the door of the shop, only to find the door locked and a sign that said "Closed Sundays."

So I can't just let things go, especially not that deer ass.  The whole ride home from Brimfield all I did was bitch about it.  When we got home I took to social media to voice my dismay.  Some people even got texts and personal messages about it.  The deer ass pretty much made its way into every conversation, for the past month.  I admit my continuous need to bring it up could be described as relentless, but I guess I was just looking for some sort of closure on "the one that got away."

This morning, as I was getting up and having my tea, Pone presented me with a giant box.  The box said "To my favorite Touchhole."  As I began to open the box, I saw the familiar fox tail.  I was almost in tears.  I think I kept shrieking "really?!?!?"  And then there it was, in all of it's glory.  My deer ass with a fox tail.  Mine.  All mine.  Forever.  I was so happy.  I had gotten exactly what I wanted for my birthday.  I felt like the kid in A Christmas Story, getting what he wanted for Christmas.  Only I didn't get a gun and I hoped this deer ass wouldn't shoot my eye out.

Our dog with the Christmas Card touchhole seems to like my gift

I may have turned 35 today.  I may be the perennial curmudgeon.  But today I felt young again.  I felt like a kid on my birthday.  A taxidermied touchhole for a touchhole.  What a time to be alive.