Tag Archives: chris graham

Glamour Boy Reunion

The Glamour Boys were back together this morning


(Peaches & Herb fired right up in my head “Reunited and it feels so gooooood…”)


The cologne, purchased by the barrel at Dollar General, was scented of horse manure (the good part) covered in ammonia and burning possum (the not so good part) but at least there was a hint of ancient seafood dumpster or it would have been truly awful…


My eyes, and those of everyone else in the pool were squirting tears just to wash away the mace like assault on our ocular senses.

The Glamour Boys, clueless as usual, were jabbering away like they were in heaven over in lane four.

The Aqua-ettes and I huddled on the far stairs taking turns swimming laps as far from the mushroom cloud of what I’m positive is named Assplosion por hommmes (…seriously…it’s French…really…)

Claude have mercy, it was bad.


Someday I’ll need to inform these “Gentlemen of the Evening” that decent cologne doesn’t come in a box like Franzia.

The Song Of My People

My Special Friend is clearly losing it.

Or, maybe I am.


Approaching the end of the lane where she was bobbing up and down with her ever present head wrap on (the hair under there must either be incredibly pristine or missing) I heard her humming quietly to herself.

I’m sure it was some sort of church hymn but what I heard was the song Bugs Bunny sang when he dressed up as Red Riding Hood. “Rabbit in red, la dee dee dee da da, da rabbit in red…”


My chlorine addled brain was playing tricks on me.


I keep thinking that too much chlorine may, in fact, ruin my life.
(could be the ice cream though…)

You’ll see me 20 years from now on the Phil Donahue Jr. Jr. Jr. Show with four grey teeth and a filthy hat, spitting while I talk.
“That chlorine ruined my life!!!!!”


When I next approached lanes end SF had burst into song, holding her foam water weights high above her head while belting out her catchy tune in some yet unknown language.

Unfortunately , in cahoots with my previously “losing my mind” argument, I was beginning to understand her.  (Oh ice cream, why hast thou forsaken me?!)


I quietly submerged and vowed to cut down on my favorite sugary dairy snack while still secretly hoping it was really the chlorine…

It’s raining.

I tried rationalizing the fact that it was raining with maybe NOT going to the pool since I would already be wet but no…


I went.

With a heavy heart and a shuffle in my step.

As I arrived at there my heart leaped with the joy of a seven year old child winning the biggest fifty cent stuffed animal out of the bilking crane machine at the mall.

It was completely devoid of another human being.


I smiled (looking psychotically deranged  I’m certain) and took the first icy plunge.

After a few deliciously solitary laps I noticed one lone woman walk out of the locker room. She was wearing a black & white swim suit and when she turned around I was treated to the sight of a killer whale dorsal fun strapped to her back.

I sh*t you not.


The weirdest/funniest part about it was that the fin was curved just like Shamu at Sea World.

Shamette (as she will be known forevermore) looked vaguely familiar and I realized that the last time I’d seen her she was chewing on the lane rope so I knew that at least a few of the synapses weren’t firing in that blowhole adorned noggin.

She looked at me with what I could only assume was hunger and slipped into the opposite end of the next lane.

Never taking her eyes off of me as we passed, I swear I heard whale noises as I glimpsed her bared teeth.


I could also see her drooling which is incredible when you realize that I was seeing it happen underwater so it was prolific.

Sensing her changing direction and heading into my lane I hastily finish my lap & leaped out of the water like a penguin pursued by a leopard seal.

A leopard seal chases a Gentoo penguin out of the freezing waters

Shamette beached herself directly behind me and without using her hands, wiggled her way back into the pool with a look of regret.

I know that the squeaks & whistles coming out of her mouth meant “next time…”

I’m calling the Japanese. I’m sure one of their whaling ships has to be available and I need help.

Cake Pop

The other day as I was holding back my dog paddling tears of shame, Samantha L Jackson happened to walk in and I realized (aside from the projectile swearing) why I enjoyed seeing her on a regular basis.


She reminded me of a cake pop.



Not just any cake pop mind you, but a blue hawaii’an flowery printed cake pop that smelled lightly of fresh linen and baked goods and misted with a generous coating of gravel.


on top of her beautifully sculpted legs is a perfectly round, vending machine powered orb that is the rest of her person and I find her delightful.


Cake pops are a wonderful little bite and yes, having attended a multitude of nuptials I have partaken in one or two (seriously, who’s counting…) but sticking her in my mouth is a frightening thought and may or may not carry federal charges so I’ll simply enjoy her company and imagine the savory experience of a granite covered pastry on a lollipop stick.


Although, the limestone in the driveway is looking inviting…


Metaphysical Therapy

I’ve been cheating.


Fleeting thoughts of working out have been making the occasional appearance in my mind but haven’t actually manifested themselves into real “action”.

child lying in a hammock

A weeks vacation is an excellent way to procrastinate your exercise ideals (or even thoughts of physical movement) so when it’s time to resume the dastardly routine, it flirts on the bare edge of disaster.

I decided that since I’d been lax in my routine I’d punish myself for an extra half hour this morning.

It was a mistake.

I think I left a chunk of my soul quivering in the shallow end of the pool.

The last I heard was “Leave me behind! I’m not gonna make it any way!”

go on without me

The ladies got a good chuckle listening to me whimper & occasionally sob into my lane rope. (Hey, if that other nut job can chew on it, I can at least cry into it. I don’t care what the sign says.)

So now I’m surfing the net looking for a metaphysical therapist.

Personal Ad:
MWM ISO witch doctor, shaman, medicine man or seamstress (must be an active member of the Seamsters Union) to reinsert soul into unsuspecting loser of said life force. Price negotiable.


We’ll see what the innocent citizens of KC respond with 🙂

The Dark Side Of Love

Love is a many splendored thing.

It also has a dark side.

One of the dark sides of my many loves is dark chocolate.  And ice cream.  And dark chocolate ice cream.


When my wife arrives home to find me passed out and snoring on the couch with some weird foamy chocolate sauce dribbling out of the corner of my mouth (back off ladies, she saw me first…) and a brown goatee when I don’t sport facial hair she knows that I’ve found the stash (Because she’s an enabler!  That’s right woman, I just outed you! >;)) and I’ll be spending more near death experiences knuckle dragging in the shallow end of the pool trying desperately to work off the spare tire that surrounds my spare tire.

This morning as I entered the pool room or “Aquatic Center” at the gym which consists of a three lane pool, a 12 person hot tub(I use the term “hot” very tongue in cheek, it’s more like a tepid tub) that works three days out of every month and a locker/shower room* where the hot water seems to arrive from the dead center of the Hades Highway glacier in Juneau, Alaska, I spied Samantha L. Jackson.


Various punctuation marks were flying out of her mouth and she was gritting her teeth.

As I got closer I saw something that made me smile from ear to ear and made her even angrier.

At the corner of her mouth was a little chocolate sauce and one colored sprinkle.


Me:  (Pointing) “What’s that?”

Samantha: (Wiping her face with the back of her hand) “Breakfast.”

Seriously girl, if I was like, oh…138 years old, you would be mine.


*The locker room, sketchy at best, is now closed for 4-6 weeks for maintenance so the icicle shower isn’t available.  My pride is greatly relieved…


Weight Loss Cigars

They say that cigars can stunt your growth.

Well, after many years of unimpeded growth I thought “Why not give them a try?”



I hadn’t realized that they were so expensive but I figured that if they were such a handy weight loss tool I’d go ahead and make the investment.



I had about eleven of them down before someone told me that I wasn’t supposed to eat them.



No wonder.  

They tasted horrible but my best guess was the old adage “If it’s good for you, it probably tastes bad”.


I smoked a couple of them after that and I must admit, I felt a little queasy.

I apparently had a green pallor that one of the Aqua-Ettes commented on.

Me: “Good morning :)”

Samantha: “You look like sh*t.”

Me: “Gee, thanks…it’s the new diet.”


As I swam along, my inner self realized that I’s made a huge mistake and that I’d be paying for it in short order.



For Lindsay…

There was a glamour boy reunion in the pool today.

I could smell it when I opened the door to the locker room.


As I entered the pool room I was assaulted and intrigued at the same time.

Not only were the Glamour Boys having their cheap cologne scented (I think todays scent was Horkamata’s Revenge) Oprah Winfrey show in lane four but there was a newbie in lane two.

She was young, beautiful and completely out of place.


Since the Aqua-ettes were all huddled at the far end of the pool in the other lanes discussing the newbie I asked if I could share her lane.

She gave the prettiest smile and said “Come on in, the water’s fine!”

As I introduced myself she told me her name was Lindsay N. Hunter and she was joining us because her regular gym was closed for some reason or another.

Now, I’m a married spud and the Aqua-ettes know this but I could see the poisoned darts of jealousy shooting at Lindsay from the other end of the pool and the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.


Apparently, there had been a little circle peed around me and I was claimed territory.

My special friend had her teeth halfway out of her mouth and was literally growling.

I approached slowly, smiled and batted my eyes at her, told her that her shower cap looked particularly good today and the the teeth made their way tentatively back into her mouth.

As she looked over my shoulder at Lindsay though, her lip twitched and little growl escaped.

I got some spit on me.

The most intriguing thing though was the glint of real malice in her eyes so I think I’ll keep myself between Lindsay & the Ladies.


This morning might just turn out pretty interesting…

Ye Olde Aftermath

Yesterday was excellent.

I spent the day with my amigo roaming the hills, woods and sand traps (never, ever the fairway) waving all manner of portable lighting rods in the air and scaring the living hell out of the ground dwelling wildlife.

Later, we indulged in many barley sodas while chatting on his porch.

As many of you know, barley soda has a way of sneaking up on you and today I’m a little less spry than I was prior to my celebrating ways.
My insides are trying to come out.

My entrails are seriously thinking about becoming my extrails much to the amusement of the aqua-ettes.

“Serves you right!” one of the ladies said as I was flailing in the pool.

She may be right.

Now that I’m slowly (and reluctantly) joining the ranks of “Middle Aged Men” I find that nights of celebration take much longer to get over than they used to twenty years ago and maybe I should consider celebrating a little less exuberantly.


But wait…

Should I curb my “joie de vivre”? Try to quell my blind search for the unknown? Tone down my joy in Beer Pong or Battle Shots?


I think not.

When I’m four hundred years old (or maybe when I just look like it) and I can’t seem to get over that last epic night, maybe I’ll consider slowing down a bit.

Or, maybe just a little more “Hair of the Dog”…


We’re Gonna Party Like…

Today is a hallowed day in the tomes of time paralleled with the likes of:

1. National Take Your Child To A Dangerous Place day. 
2. Shoot Your High Powered Rifle Straight Into The Air day.
and the ever popular
3. National Ball Peen Hammer Sleep Aid day. 

It’s My Birthday. 


So, to celebrate, I got up at 5 and went to the pool for a little birthday punishment/entertainment. 

My special friend was there and when I told her it was my birthday the conversation went pretty much like this…

SF: “How old are you? About 34?”
Me: “I’m 44 today!”
SF: “You look a lot younger! Today is my sisters birthday too!”
Me: “Really? Nice!”
SF: “Yeah, she died.”
Me: “…oh.”


Samantha was there too. 

I said good morning and her response was typical.
“Good m&$%#*f&$%#n‘ Monday mornin’ to you m&$%#*f&$%#r.”

I couldn’t say for sure but if I had to describe her speech I’d say she was speaking in lower case letters and under her breath. 


So far the day is going swimmingly well (wa, wa, waaaaa…) and I’m excited to see what the rest of it brings