I told my son that he had a choice. We could do math flash cards OR
I could give him a lecture and demonstration (with graphics) of everything that clinically went down when I got a vasectomy plus a follow up and guesstimated mileage so far.
To my surprise the boy insisted on doing the math.
I thought young dudes liked lots of penis drawings.
Parent fail(on my part) .
Planned Parenthood gave me a huge bag of safe sex kits to hand out to folks. I didn't inspect them too much, I been handing out condoms and such since the 90's.
I thought I would use the opportunity to give my boy a condom lesson. I opened a kit, tossed a packet at him and told him to open it, I opened my condom, demonstrated pinching the tip and unrolling it over my hand.
He was having trouble opening the thing. He seemed to be fumbling, stalling and making it harder than it was, unable to open the packet.
I was mortified imagining him doing the same thing, the same way on his prom night. I griped at him to get it together.
Soon he was perplexed and helpless as goo was dripping down his hands.
I asked for it back and realized what a jackass I was.
I told him to open up a condom but what I handed him was lube. I nenox9ed him.
Hey there friends. Do ya like what we do? If you are in a place to let go some flow, here is where folks donate to the clowns to keep the rubber side down and the smiling side up. Who knows, maybe we will even inscribe donor's names on our bikes. :)
We were hired to do gigs really far from our house.Yesterday we had to push our double loaded bikes up a mountain and today we had to get up early and ride from 39th and Powell to the St. John's bridge (to do the last episode of Portlandia). That was really rough. We got lost a couple times, got sunburned, muscle fatigued etc. At one point we were inching our bikes up a huge 45 degree hill, exhausted and knowing if we slipped our gear would be toast and possibly wipe out the other clown along the way. We would make it to the top, turn and there's another, and another. Hearing and seeing each other suffer was really harsh, but at least it was us doing it to ourselves. Olive did great pulling a full trailer. Both gigs really wanted our bikes so we had to ride hard. At one point while climbing the steep hill a man in a fancy car drove up smiling big "are you two March Fourth?" The good part was both gigs paid us much more for the travel than the actual gigs.The party paid us over 3X our rate and the tv show paid us for the whole day when we only spent about an hour actually working. I'm really glad it's over and glad Olive and I survived the trial by fire intact and feeling good about each other. These things really make a couple stronger. We laughed together, cried together, watched each other broken and helped restore our partner. Many people shout how much they love us every day, a few like to tell us mean stuff. It's been quite the epic week. So far we hung out with TV stars, Syrian refugees,rich, poor, rural and urban folks,and even been in a parade. Now its all about hugging and resting up for whatever is next on our plate.
Last night the TV show called while we were nursing our wounds.
They wanted us on the outskirts of the other side of town early in the morning. I said.
"No way, even if I wasn't tore up I'm not an "extra" I'm my own thing.
Also we have both our kids showing up for several days. I told them that I'm sure I can find a couple of people who live near St.John bridge who would want to ride tall bikes for them.
They said "Will they be Olive and Dingo from TV's Portlandia? No thanks if not." The show has been good to us. We had been on 3 times before (not always as ourselves) and they even made me a web page. But kid day is kid day. I needed to be a Dad today. I was OK poo pooing the deal based on logistics but Olive kept negotiating.
She approached me a few hours later looking like she just sold our cow for some magic beans.
"Um, they want to pay us for the entire day for an hours work, as well as feed us and Uber our kids around where ever they needed to go. It's the signature bookend episode and they need specifically Olive and Dingo.
I thought about it for a nanno second and started stretching my legs and gathering gear. lol. That is exactly how to talk me into stuff.
He was having a fight with an invisible person and it was pretty heated. I was steering myself away and noticed a dude next to me. I said "Watch out, this dude is in a bad way." Luckily I was right next to Safeway and the guy I was talking to was equally crazy. " I'm Jesus Christ, all will be as intended, be on your way and I will tend to him." Then both men walked off in different directions. I love it when a plan comes to whatever.
I'm in the Clown Cave here in Portland Oregon. Last night was a roughish night. I came down with an illness that really cramped my style. When taking the trash out I suddenly caught a mean chill. It's a warm night so my wife got concerned. I ran in the pad and got under some blankets shivering. Was it a mild gall attack? I did eat lots of fattening 4th of July food. Maybe it was food poisoning? I don't know. My skin felt all pricky. Luckily my doctor (wife) was on the case. While she was digging around in her healing cabinet I drink a lot of water, and took a hot shower. Then I got right into bed without bothering to dry off. She got some lavender oil diffusing and brought out other essential oils. Olive gave my aching body a full, no holds barred massage from keel to stern. It took a very long time and I groaned loudly the whole time. She giggled and giggled at the sounds she was getting out of me. This gal played me like an instrument. Part sensual massage, part getting thrown down a flight of steps, I made some sounds I didn't know I make. It was surreal, I was shivering under wet blankets while my lady was rocking a bikini. She looks very different when not in clown drag. I was so lucky to have her sharing her skills on me. In fact I was bummed that I was too sick to fully appreciate the scene (like I normally do). I'm a lucky clown. I passed out into a fever dream. In my dream I dug up a book from a barren landscape. Upon opening it there was only one page and one sentence. "Color and time are illusions"
This morning I woke in a pool of sweat and slowly summoned the energy to rise. Some sunshine should get my body running. I was still feeling sick but we had a show to do in an hour. They were expecting happy go lucky Dingo D to make with the merriment and jokes. When I opened the front door for some sun but the sky was overcast...doh! It's easy to get dressed since all my clothes are clown clothes. Can't miss. Painting my face is equally easy to do on auto-pilot. After "stand-cuddling" a bit with Olive (while she did her make up) it was time to load the bikes. Every day we carry a lot of gear all over town doing busking shows. Our bikes are heavy with books, sound stuff and props.
Often we put 19-25 miles a day on our bikes carrying all that kit. I'm not bragging or complaining. I'm just saying. yuk yuk yuk My rig "The Behemoth" still had a disco ball on it from another nights ramblings. It was installed by my very thorough friend Nathan Bennet. I didn't want to mess with that so I put a trailer on my bike to carry all our appurtenances. We took off. Now I was 18 feet long, 12 feet high, sick, still waking up and tugging a rock uphill. WooHoo! I should write a song about it and call it "Prometheus rock". It wasn't fun but I was expecting to have just enough energy for the length of the show. As soon as we got to Hawthorne street the folks were dialed into us from the gate.
So many folks were photographing us it was ridiculous. That is sort of troubling. Portland people ignore us, politely smile or cheer at us, these folks clearly had never seen us. That begs the question...where the hell are our Portland people? When we arrived at the venue there was a good sized show waiting for us. Great people. The energy coupled with some prosperous promise made me really forget I was sick. Those shows carry on like that. The kids shouldn't suffer a canceled show just because I ate ribs, ice cream, chocolate and candy for days straight. Our gig was dreamy, we did our thing, ended strong, hugged hugged hugged the friends and fans then went outside. To lots and lots of people taking our picture again. We were nice and even happy to see them. We rolled down Hawthorne and then doubled back up Belmont to a Vietnamese restaurant we like. We had made enough dough at the gig for a nice lunch. Just what we needed. As we rolled up we hear "Freak Bike" we hear that all the time so we nodded but paid it no mind. Then as we landed a couple with a toddler approached us. "Freak bike! We are friends with Rat Patrol!" I hear "Rat Patrol" and it gets my attention. They are a fantastic freak bike club out of Chicago and some of my vewy first email friends back in the day. They kept mentioning the city they were from and it wasn't Chicago. That's when I noticed the Australian accent. Rat patrol has an Aussie chapter! Good for them. http://rat-patrol.org/RPOz/RatPatrolOz.html
We posed for pictures and said so long to our new friends. Olive got soup and I got noodles. That food was really good going down, just what I needed to feel better. After that I had just enough energy to pedal my big ass bike home, toss my clown gear and crash. I'm feeling much better now. Just looked in the fridge...all 4th of July foods! Bah no way!!!I learned my lesson...well, maybe later. :) I still have the disco ball set up. Also a few apartments over we can hear a man making long, anguished groans and yells. I guess what I had is going around, glad that fella has the same kind of doc I have.
When we are shopping she is wondering
"what else do we need."
My concern is usually
"What else can we live without?"
When we are driving and she says
being a native Texan, to me that phrase only means one thing...that the cops are lighting up behind us.
To her it means there is a tiny spider on the dashboard.
She scares the crap out of me like that.
It's also funny that some phrases mean a lot to her and very little to me like "Oh no, we are out of T.P." while other mean little to her but a lot to me "The landlord is walking around outside."
I don't like things manufactured in other countries mostly for patriotic reasons but I particularly dislike "chinasport" items. In the Clown House we called things like bikes made in China "Chinasport" because no matter how crappy the thing, it would always have the word "sport" somewhere on it. Think of the pollution chain when something like a deck chair is made, shipped overseas, trucked to Walmart, (it lasts less than a couple years) then it rots on the landfill off-gassing more pollution. Every town could be as livable as a college town if it weren't for outfits like Walmart undercutting the American worker. Walmart is the single biggest employer in the nation. That's gross. Another Chinasport item that could use some local manufacturing is mic stands. The guy at the music store tells me that all the mic stands are such cheap chinasport that they never last very long. We have to replace our mic stand at least once a year, I thought it was just us being rough and tumble with our gear...turns out it was designed to fail. The guy said that get a long lasting mic stand that is light enough for our bikes, we need to find vintage ones made in America. I would pay extra for a modern one made in America. I think people should be offended to be called "consumers" and strive to be called "contributors" (fer the reals). OK rant out, have a good day, go make stuff.
Looking for a job? Here's a trick I used to get any job I wanted even though I looked rough and/or wasn't qualified. Instead of making a resume I would just grab a stack of Wendy's applications. I would fill them out, add better info before delivering them to every place near my house. That way your employment request never gets lost in a sea of resumes. Management WILL notice the bright pink one with the fast food logo and bring your ap out for scrutiny. Also, if they hire you, you know they are the type of folks who would put up with whatever other hi-jinks come with having you as an employee. http://oliveanddingo.com/donate/ I once got a job driving a gas truck in Dallas Texas and it was months before anyone realized I not only didn't have a commercial license, I didn't have any license. The station was near my house and I wanted a night job. I got the gig with a hilarious McDonald's application that never asked license info.
I'm stuck home with a tree/tallbike related shoulder injury. It's a drag feeling useless but I still found a chance to try and make a difference. Olive was grocery shopping, i was sipping coffee and trying to stay still. Then a homelessamerican looking man tried to buy a small coffee but didn't have enough. I searched myself and could find no cutter so I left my coffee on the table and darted off to get some cash from Olive. Eventually I found her, got 2 bucks but then couldn't find the dude who needed coffee. I ran all over looking for him eventually finding him outside. He was turning a corner so I yelled "HEY!" (Yeah that was all I could get to fall out of my face, I'm injured and groggy.) Well, the man surprised me. He took off running. By the time I got to the corner he had already crossed 2 big streets and hopped on a bus. So there ya go. Even injured I solved the homeless problem. You're welcome. http://oliveanddingo.com/donate/