Tonight's show (at 7:30) is a rerun of an episode that many viewers have told me they enjoyed when it first ran. Featuring interviews with former Onion editor Scott Dikkers and his pal Peter Hilleren -- coauthors of the gleefully irrevernt Destined for Destiny: The Unauthorized Autobiography of George W. Bush -- this program also included my near-fatal attempt to juggle onions, as well as many moments when I was in danger of laughing so hard that stuff might spurt out my nose. Fortunately, no one died and nasal expectorations remained minimal -- which are, as you probably know, the the television industry's two most common benchmarks for a successful broadcast.
Apropos of nothing, but just because I feel like mentioning it, yesterday we went on a family outing to Stinson Beach. I have a difficult time going to places -- even beautiful places, like Stinson -- where I am not sure that there will be a clean and comfortable bathroom available for my use. This applies to camping as well -- also, many great cities of the world. I know I need to get over this phobia if I ever am to become a world-class traveler -- or even just a traveler. Another option is for me to figure out -- how to put this delicately? -- a way to be more, um, efficient in my bathroom visits. Something changed in me in my mid-20s -- something internal, and mysterious -- which led to me doing much more reading than would otherwise have been possible in a day. I've tried everything: Metamucil, dried fruits, trampolining -- with little avail. So the idea of spending some quality time in a stall at the beach while 32 angry surfers chant for me to come out ... well, the thought fills me with a certain amount of anxiety. Which doesn't help. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.
And not apropos of that, I'm also recalling that my father liked to take his time in the can -- especially on Sundays, which called for a careful reading of almost the entire Sunday edition of the New York Times. Though in his case I believe the extended bathroom time was a matter of choice rather than necessity. He liked it in there! Let me also mention that my dad's favorite sandwich was thickly sliced raw onion on white bread, with lots of butter slathered on. My stepmother, Sue, complained mightily, but sometimes a man just has needs, and that's that.
I hope this clears up all your unspoken questions.
4 comments July 16th, 2007