The title of this silliness could actually be an admonishment to a youngster trying to make the move from diaper to dapper. “Please, practice potty paradise!” Meaning, “Get thee to a cannery.” If you’ve ever gone through this process with boys, you also know to add the suggestion that they make sure their aim is true. To be honest, that bit of advice applies well into the teen years. My brothers and I were lucky on that score since there was usually the butt of a Kent cigarette floating around. I won the Battle of Midway on a daily basis.
However, the name of this e-piphany concerns four distinct…not distink…concerns:
PLEASE. Is it a bad sign that I returned from a week off and one of the first things I did was turn in another vacation request? “Please, let me have another week?” Usually, the plea for me to be away comes from management and viewers. This time, however, we used some of last week to figure out who needed to be where and when in August. It’s a case of four kids going in about seven different directions. That’s why I turned in another “Please!” so quickly. (There’s also a Tournament of Champions on Password, circa 1966, scheduled for Game Show Network for the very week I’m requesting…just a coincidence. Really.)
PRACTICE. I do not have a naturally thick beard. As I mentioned before in this space, my whisker potential is more Helen Hayes than Isaac Hayes. Despite the fact that my five o’clock shadow is really just peach fuzz on steroids, I do shave everyday when I’m working. Years ago, I was strongly chastised by a TV make-up consultant for coming into work without shaving. I explained that I really didn’t think anybody could tell. She told me I was completely wrong and lazy and impudent! After looking up the word “impudent,” I was even more hurt. Anyway, having been threatened by a person wielding a mascara brush and powder puff, I decided I would just shave every morning. After TV went High Definition, it became even more important. Apparently, with high def, even a light beard can make a person look like a Sunday-morning Chester Arthur after a Saturday night poker game.
When I take a break from TV, I also take a break from the razor. After about three days, my wife and children start calling the authorities about a vagrant hanging around their house. That’s when I know I should shave. My regular method of trimming involves an electric razor. But, when I have time, I like to use the old razor and cream routine…pretending I’m William Holden heading out for a night on the town. You wouldn’t think it but, as I discovered again a couple days ago, even something as simple as shaving may require PRACTICE. Yes, I cut myself. High on my cheek. Near my left eye. Not even an area where I’ve ever had any facial hair. Why must I walk around with toilet paper on my face?! Why did I ever loan my favorite styptic pencil to Bela Legosi!? Why did I just write two full paragraphs on a microscopic abrasion?!
POTTY. We had a story on Monday’s FirstNews about a new “app” for an I-phone which will tell you when it’s the best time for you to duck out of a movie and head for the restroom. First of all, I don’t know what an “app” is. Is it short for application? Or, apple? Or, in my personal case, ap-athetic? Also, when it comes time to skip to the loo, shouldn’t you listen to your body? Make your bladder gladder without the tech-nudge-oly?
I guess it’s better than getting some sort of cell phone with a catheter-app. By the way, do these new-fangled contraptions still let you make and receive actual phone calls?
PARADISE. Another FirstNews story from Monday, named Costa Rica as the happiest place on earth. The United States came in 114th. I’ll tell you what would make me happy:
PLEASE, grant my next vacation request.
Let me throw away my razor so I don’t have to PRACTICE shaving, anymore.
Leave me tech-free in the movie house. I’ll answer Nature’s Call not Steve Job’s. It’s my POTTY and I’ll cry if I want to…cry if I want to…cry if I want to.
Those things may just lead to PARADISE!
