Whoo Hoo! I'm Drunk!

Howdey hoo! I'm a' duzin sheets ta' da' wind and I can't feel my teeth! Whoo Hooo! What?!@ Der what?! Ah ha! I didn' think o' thata. Mel jus' ssaiod that we should take Headly ta' Taco Bell an' order him a mexican pizza... diya' thin' that Latino's pissed 'bout mexican pizzas. I mean tha' aberation of itiallina and mexican foods together? I'd be pissed. An' wha' the hell is a chulupa anyway?! Isin that the mexican goat sucker?! Kinda like Dracula but less glamorious! No nono, Iam not gonna use the spell checker Mel... I don care! HAHAHA! Nonono, shhhhh! Mel's pl.ayin' the bongos now! He he. We jus' wached te' Dawn of the Dead remake again sos were all riles up. I'll be Sarah Polleys zombie any day yah boy! I wana wrasle... who wants to wrasle me! What?!@ HAHAHA! Mel thinks Sweats is a zombie sos he wanas shoot him in da head. Ha ha haa huh... god I'm lonley!!1! Whyas Katie had ta' leave me? Oh god I thin i'm gonna pukce.

Hiya folks, Mel here. Gil ran off to the bathroom to vomit/cry. It’s actually pretty pathetic, but you have to understand he’s had twelve screwdrivers tonight. I tried to talk him out of doing a blog while drunk though when Gil gets an idea there’s no stopping him. Well I’m sure he’ll make excuses for this later, so I’ll just sign him off. Have a good night everybody.

I Hate Kids Parties

Now frum time ta’ time Sweats likes ta’ whore carnies out ta’ birthday parties an’da like and if it weren’t for the extra green I’d tell Sweats to take a flying pantsless leap inta’ the Ring the Bottle booth.

So Sweats “recruits” me and mys “Whack ‘em Cats”, Lester and the “Tubs a’ Fun”, Bodo Diddles and Mel with the Pettin’ Zoo in tow. Wes sets up in sum ladies back yard and in minutes we’re swarmed wit kids. Kids with their snotty noses lookin’ all grimy, smellin’ a Sweet-Tarts™ and pee and touching all yer stuff wit thear sticky hands.

“Hey kids. Wanna’ try yur luck and whack a cat?!” I deliver my caller pitch with grace and volume, but I guess I pushed the volume a little too much as three of the young’uns immediately began to cry.

“No, no. Shhh!" I beg. "Shut up kid. Who wants to see a severed head?” But I couldn’t quail the brats bawlin’ before a couple of the parents scooped up thar little’uns while givin’ me the ol’ parental “whata’ ya’ done to my baby” look. *Sigh* Off to a great start.

Thins go fine for the next 20 minutes or so ‘til the barrel shaped birthday boy shows up with his entourage of 12 year olds. “You look like a homeless bum.” He says while violently purging frosting from a hunk of cake with hes front teeth.

“You look like a candidate for diabetes.” I fired back.

“What?”

“Here squirt try ta’ whack a cat.” I tossed a softball at the porker and when I saw him wind up his pitch like an epileptic putting on deodorant I knew I made a horrible mistake.

So as I was nursin’ my bloody nose contemplating how a softball ain’t so soft when I sees Sweats walkin’ round the side of the house with the tub‘o birthday boy’s mommy. Being the sneaky bastard that I am I decideds to follow and guess what ol’ Gil discovered? Ayup, mommy-dearest t’was playing her own carnie game “Spank the One-Eyed Trouser Trout” in Sweats pants.

Well, ‘nufs enough so I packed my gear, grabbed Mel outta’ the tree them damn kids ran him up and fer good measure swiped ona’ the fat kids presents. I don’t know whatta’ gonna’ do with a Lebron James action figure, but it’s better than what Sweats got from the party, a nasty case o’ crabs.

Do You Wanna’ Go Faster?! Yeaaaa… Puke!

The Gravitron is one of the most popular carnival rides every made and next to the Squirrel Cages one of the most fowl to clean at the end of the night.

The Gravitron is one of them there spinny rides, built like a flying saucer with slanted padded walls that the customers are pinned ta’ when it hits full tilt, flappy cheeks G-force. At the heart of this “assault to your digestive system” ride is the DJ/control booth were’ Darrel blasts the top 40 hits of 1978 while multi-colored strobe lights flash insistently at every square inch of the interior ta’ ensure that if the ride didn’t make you spew chunks you’ll at least have a seizure.

So me and Mel finish for the day and are gettin’ar’ selves gussied up to crash the local high school dance when Sweats, da’ Park Boss, comes up ta’ us and says that Darrel’s down with shingles and we’ll have ta’ clean the Gravitron. Well after the obligatory pissin’ and moanin’ we grabs are slop buckets and diving helmets then start’d scrubbin’.

Now the upside ta’ cleaning the Vomitron is all the cool stuff ya’ find stuck behind the padded walls. Rubes have no idea how much stuff is pulled from their pockets in jus’ a couple of spins. Now the most abundant is loose change, but that’s not all; jewelry, keys, chap sticks, loaded guns, it’s like an Easter egg hunt only with crappy stuff from peoples pockets. But thus time we hit the uberfreakload.

It hadn’ been two minutes since I hoisted Mel inta’ the crawl space behind the head rests when I hear him let out a squeal of pure terror. After a few soothing words and a verse of “Easy Lover” Mel calmed down ‘nuf ta’ throw out the offending object. A human head. Not a fake plastic head or one of thems mannequin heads but a fer’ reals guys head. We stared at it, pushed it ‘round with our mops an’ even got up the nerve ta’ pinch its nose, but for the life of us we cuddin’t figure out where it came from. Not like sum dudes gonna come in with his head on then leave with it off. Then maybe some one brought it in, but woudn’t sum one notice a guy carrying around a head.

After loitering ‘round a head for an hour it tends to loose its thrill, sa me and Mel finished scrubbin’ the splattered upchuck, counted out $23.47 in free money and put the head in an old pickle jar. Wes take turns wit the head, Mel gets it one week and he keeps it on da’ top of his stool while when its my week I keep it right da “Whack ‘em Cats” counter. Its brought me good luck with the rubes too, more customers an’ less winnin’s. I guess the glassy gaze of a disembodied head floatin’ in vinegar is kinda’ distraction when ya’ tryin’ to whack ‘em cats. Mel’s wants to call’em Headly.

Teenagers Are Mean Jerks

In a high profile customer service job like I have workin’ the “Whack ‘em Cats” booth at Badger Boy Carnival Extravaganza and Hootenanny I gets many types of customers. Most rubes are of the garden verity middle class zombie with the 3.2 young’uns, vacant stare and the glorious perpetual open wallet.

Then we’ve got the old codgers gimping after the grandson/daughter and spoiling Bobby/Mary rotten to make up for the horrible joke of parenting they did on their own ankle-biters, but that’s a story for a much later time.

But Mother Mary beans on toast, the one “customer” that’ll strike fear inta’ the most seasoned carnie is the rowdy teenager.

The typical scenario starts with three to four teenage boys and the occasional token female for the alpha-teen to molest while tormenting good honest carnie folk. So the three to four nazi rejects converge on the “Whack ‘em Cats” bellowing over emphasizing grunts of “Whack ‘em” while violently making jerking motions with their hands. Once they’ve finish congratulatin’ each other about how witty they are they slowly turn their slanted brows and dim eyes to me signaling the real torment is about to begin.

I’ved learned a long ago to ditch my usually caller pitch of “try your luck and whack a cat”. As it usually lead to an oversized Garfield crammed down my gullet, so I’ve adopted a much safer approach. Before the hairy knuckled teen can utter his first insult, which in all cases is “So, you like to whack cats huh.”, I look ‘em straight in the eye, puff out my chest and cry like a little girl who just found out her cat got hit by a car. I bawl so whimperingly pathetic that dogs howl to it. A hissy fit any four year old would be proud of and with that the teenagers slink away in such obvious disgust as to never return again.

Now I know it’s down right cowardly and painfully pathetic to pitch a fit of such magnitude to get out of a beatin’, but you didn’t see what they did to Mel when they caught him in his little cowboy outfit.

Bathroom Wall Literature

So I was bathing in a Shell gas station rest room some where in Mississippi, which, by the way, the rest room looked like two people were having sex while stabbing each other exploded in, but I digress. While washing out some of my delicates I notice on the stall wall a story written obviously by several different people. At some point some one decided to write some thing then it would be added to by another rest room vendor until I found it. I copied it word for word and here it is complete unedited:

The wheels skidded out of control. He was spinning, he was going to die and he knew he would. But wait he thought “how did I get into this mess in the first place?”

Then he remembered! He was being chased by a policeman and he was going down a dark alley and then all the sudden he ramped off a big trash can and then he hit the brakes, very hard at a red light.

He was shocked, not so much by his survival but by the feat of launching a car over a trash can. He pressed a button that changed the color of the car just in time. The Police car turned the corner.

So Frank started driving to the dumpster to get his dog Long Mong. When he got there his dog was rapping to Snoop-Dog and wearing a “bling bling” and a Jersey so he took him to the dumpster next door.

He made it there in good time ditched the “bling bling” and Jersey, after that he made his way to his prerious engagement with his friends for a night of poker. When he got there though, the plans had changed…

Everybody surrounded him with knifes! He froze! He pulled out some ninja stars and threw them. Then he pulled out a short sword and a big dagger and started fighting the man and his hands started to glow with outrageous power and strength!!

The Power traveled to his sword & was releaced in an energy beam that disintegrated all his enemies, but one had blocked it. They locked in combat. The battle was very heated but he finally won.

And then he pooped on his backpack and then started to yell SHIT F*@K ASS BITCH.

“Excuse my French, that just sort of slipped out” he said to the pretty lady across the street who was staring at him in an uncomfortable way. Joe was a taxi driver and in all his years something so odd as a middle aged man taking a dump on the side of the street on a backpack.

Then Superman came down and take the lady and flew away! “No” he said “I must follow him!” Then all the sudden he got a call to pick up a woman! He went and picked up the woman! He thought she was beautiful so they went to his house and had S*X!!!

When they stopped they watched Finding nemo on DVD then went to a Chinese Resturant & had the 2 person buffet. “This was a fun date, lets do it again!” “Yes, lets!” she said. “In a week.” “No, now!” “I don’t want to!” “To bad!” “How dare you!”

And then he’s walking down the line that divides him some where in his mind on the boarder line whats F*@K upped and everthings alright uhoh uhoh The End

I really believe this speaks to all of us.

Dwarf Mel

Ok, I don’t know what’s up with you people, but I’ve been receiving a lot of hippy hate mail about my reference to a urine smellin’ dwarf who doesn’t like to be poked. I only posted it yesterdays… whata’ ya’ all sitin’ around doin’ Google searches for dwarf phrases that might be “insensitive”. Hears a few edited quotes from my fan mail.

“You c**k smoking b*****d! I have a friend who’s a little person, you f***ing piece of s**t monger! It’s people like you who f**k up this planet with your m*******ing insensitive j***qe son of n****l t***idly x*******ty!”

“I’m a mother of a little person and I found your last blog to be very insensitive, hurtful and mean spirited. You f***king m********ker b****red!”

“I am a little person and while I don’t enjoy being poked it doesn’t make me dangerous. I also DO NOT smell like urine! F***ker!”

Well hell and meatball sandwiches! Let a man talk before givin’ him a hot poker suppository. Mel, the dwarf in question, and me’s good buddies for a long time. He IS dangerous if ya’ poke him due to a traumatizing childhood incident involving a vibrating bed and a fist full of ballpoint pens. As far as the urine smell well he works in the PETTING ZOO… whata’ think he’s gonna’ smell like? Daises and cream? The man’s three and a half feet tall which just so happens to be the same height as a goat’s rectum, so cut him some slack. I hear Mary Kay is still testing cosmetics on bunnies, why don’t you go bother them and leave Mel alone. Me and Mel’s gonna’ get a fifth of Jim Bean then hide under the “Tilt-a-Whirl” and watch the girls skirts go up.

Carnies Vs. Circus Freaks

Notin’ cheeses off a carnie more than bein’ associated with onion headed circus freaks. There’re several fundamental differences between the fair minded vendors of games of chance and fairly priced carnival rides than the human cesspool that is circies.
Example:

1. Hygiene; a carnie will wipe after every bowel movement as carnies understand that the smell of clinging terds will drive away the rubes. Now take a big whiff of the guy who sells the circus peanuts. Yep, he’s not just selling peanuts, he’s gottem’ skidded on the inside seat of his drawers.
2. White Slavery; J & B Entertainment Lmt. Inc., who own the Badger Boy Carnival Extravaganza and Hootenanny, with which who I am currently employed, pays a fair wage for a fair days work and all Gyros we can eat. Circuses continually abduct Russian immigrants and French Canadians and force them into slave labor as acrobats and monkey wranglers.
3. Clowns; though B.B.C.E. & H have one clown, Bodo Diddles, who is an even tempered and SOBER clown who genuinely enjoys entertaining. Circus clowns eat children.
4. Bears that ride bicycles; that’s just not right.

Thars’ a few of the things to keep in mind the next time you’re at “The Tub o’ Fun” and you ask the carnie what it’s like to work for the circus. It’ll save ya’ the pain of a rapid fire carnie slappin’.

Carnie FAQ (F#%king Annoying Questions)

As a 20 year carnie veteran you hear a lot of stupid things come outta' peoples mouths and some times a lot of wet chunky stuff coming outta' those mouths too, but that's a story for another time. Right now I'ma dealin' with the dumb crap peoples always askin' me about working in a carnival, so jus maybe ya'll just shut-it and ask mes some good questions like "Do you take hundred dollar bills?"

1. Is this game fixed? Now ma' favorite answer is "Naw, if you look over here you can see his testacies!", but that don't work to well with the ladies.
2. Is this ride safe? This is an easy one, I jus' give them a big gap filled smile and says "Now ya' think they'd put me in charge of a $50,000 Tilt-a-Whirl if it wasn't safe? You should be worried if they had a NASA technician to operate this."
3. Is it sanitary to make cotton candy like that? It's fluffed sugar with food coloring! Whata' you want from me?! Surgical gloves and a diving helmet! I'm wearing the stupid hairnet already!
4. Is the dwarf running the petting zoo safe? As long as you don't poke him.
5. How'd you loose so many teeth? Children answer: Eating too many sweets and not doing my homework. Rowdy teenager answer: Rough sex with yer mom. Adult answer: Arn't you a little old to be askin' me stupid questions?
6. Are you sure this is an official Budweiser mirror? You won it playing "Wack 'em Cats", whatta' you think.
7. Uhg, are you the one who smells like urine? Oh, dear God no, that's the dwarf.

Well thars lots more than that, but writing this list is making me depressed and sober.