Thursday, April 15, 2010

Pussycat Dolls & Penthouse

Yesterday, I wrote a song with @ninicamps and @garrisonstarr.  I'm not going to say much about it other than Garrison and I high-fived at its completion.  The most important thing you should take from that statement is the word completion.  You don't always complete the song you set out to write on these "writing dates."  So the fact that the three of us completed the song is a miracle unto itself.  Add to it high-fives at the end, and it made traffic on the drive home actually tolerable.  I listened to our writing session via my little voice memos app on the iPhone all the way down the clogged L.I. E.

I had to get home early enough to meet the life insurance man who gives physicals.  I'm not sure what else to call him.  When you have two babies, I don't need to explain this do I?  You stop smoking pot for a few weeks and take a physical for the sake of the little ones (I'm just kidding, mom.  I don't smoke pot.  I would take pain killers, however, if they were at my disposal).

So, I skid into my driveway just as the physical man is knocking on my front door.  And he's exactly why I prefer the internet to live-in-person-encounters.  I think people reach a certain age where they should stop meeting new people.  That's a whole other blog, though.  Let me get to the story.

"Hi, I'm Mark, be sure you have your driver's license," he shouts to me as I'm climbing out of my car.

So, detecting an opportunity to be witty, I reply, "I don't have a license."

Fortunately, @thisisdevon was at the front door and gave my reply the well earned laugh it derserved.  Physical Man flat-lined.

We head over to the kitchen table, passing the babies eating dinner in their high chairs.  He pauses to make this intelligent observation:  "One of the boy's has hair and the other is bald."

Thanks for noticing, Physical Man.  The pink shirt and pig tails might have tipped you off that one of the boy's is actually my daughter.

Now onto the awkward small talk around my kitchen table.

"What do you do for a living?"  He asks me.

"I'm a musician," I really need to carry a tape recorder with me so I can just hit play in these moments.

"What do you play?"

"I play guitar...."

Insert Charlie Brown voice for remainder of discussion about his nephew who plays whatever with whoever wherever.

Then he asks, "And what does your husband do?"

OH, PHYSICAL MAN!  I'm about to face plant on the kitchen table from you.  Just take my blood pressure, let me pee in the cup, AND LEAVE.

"My husband is a woman and she's the marketing director of Real Simple Magazine," I say.

"Oh..."  He paused for barely a second.  "I've never heard of your band or that magazine."

Had my answers been, "Pussycat Dolls and Penthouse," in that order, a light might have gone off for him.

I'm not even going to mention the part about how I'm STILL bleeding from the way this guy drew blood from my arm.  Just the thought of it makes me woozy. 

I write these blogs during the babies nap time as Public Service Announcements.  You might not become friend's with the man who comes to your house to give you your life insurance physical.  Pass it on.


Not actually the guy who gave me a physical, but pretty close.


  1. You're gay???? :-o

    Dontcha just love those who are insanely oblivious?

    And I think your, "I don't have a license," line was funny. :-)

  2. He sounds really special. And by the look of his picture, he needs a physical... looks like he has a case of jaundice. Oh, wait... just noticed the caption under the pic.

    Either way, he sounds special. I don't know how he thought your daughter was a boy, she's adorable!!! As is your son, but he looks like a boy. :)

    Did you pass the physical? I bet you had high blood pressure after dealing with him.

  3. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA that is pretty much what he looked like! What a weirdo!

  4. that sounds like a magical moment from hell... never heard of either, eh... i trust that you at least slipped in "since you live under a rock" somewhere in your conversation with this toad...

    what a douche... and yes... douche in the John Mayer way...

    (p.s. I could kiss you on the lips for using the Simpsons Dr. Nick Riviera. Nice work #hendo)

  5. Did he sound like Dr. Nick Riviera? Hello everybody! Somehow I doubt it. Would have been more entertaining that way.

    Douche. Thank you, Liz for stealing the word I was going to use. But, I could kiss you on the lips for the John Mayer comment. That is always how I refer to him.

  6. HA! What a scene! Perfect. Perfect description. I had a lady nurse come by last year for extra insurance. Forgot about it--8:15 on a Saturday morning. I just said what the hell and went through with it, even though there had been wine and high cholesterol food Friday evening....don't even want to get into the ending. Note to self....might need to get a another job.....

  7. I have mine today and am hoping it goes well. I had one before (long story) and the woman who came out spent an hour telling me all about her louse of an ex-husband. This was before the blood pressure cuff even made it out of her bag of tricks.

  8. Oh geeze...what a jerk!! Not to judge (too much), but I'm going to assume that maybe he made you bleed just a wee bit more than if you were a Pussycat Doll and your "husband" worked for Penthouse.

  9. Why didn't you answer him in Charlie Brown Principal/Teacher voice? "Wah wahh wa wah wa waaah.

  10. "Pass it on." *LOL* That was good. I think I'll use it in conversation today.