WARNING! If you don't like toilet humor then DO NOT PROCEED! Consider yourself warned.
The problem may have well started when I ordered Stromboli after band practice Fri. night.
We are at Pizza Inn.....
"What would you like sir?"
"I'll have the Stromboli..."
Blank stare.
"Stromboleee..."
Smile. Quizzical look. Blank Stare.
"SStrommmmbolleeee....."
Quizzical smile. Non-recognition of verbal patterns coming from customer to waitress.
"I'll have the SStrommmbbolllayyyy...."
By now the chatter of my band/table mates had stopped. What is he ordering?
Friend/bass player Bill and I are now experimenting with the various ways to say Stromboli.
Waitress: "I have never heard of that."
I open the menu and point and say "Ssstrommbboleeeee!"
Waitress: "Nobody's ever ordered that before.
That should have been my first clue.
I did indeed have a medium order of Stromboli of which I ate half of, the other half in a Go-Box for
later Strombo-bobulating.
Next Morning....Cold Stromboli for breakfast..add one Cinnabon 15 minutes later.
This is when the Dark Side began to take over my innards, soon to begin it's quest for domination of
the Force and all who consider it holy.
First came a belch....... Then another belch...and another and (you get the picture).
My family says, "Gawwwwd!, who farted?"
Says I proudly, "That was no fart, that was a belch!"
"Stay away from me!" ........"Okay, no problem."
Cut to: Five hours of belching, take my Nexium, realize that at any moment this thing could reverse itself
as my lower abdomen begins rumbling and cramping.
Time to load up to play at the aforementioned benefit for Brother Tod. On the ride over I warn Bill and Laurie that there could be trouble as I have this intestinal problem that won't go away.
The windows are soon lowered with cries for help coming from the front and back seat.
Arrive at the Civic Center and unload and begin to set up the sound system, with a warning: "I'm having a
problem, so if I tell you not to walk over here or there you'd best listen to me"
My Christian brothers and sisters happily oblige my request.
I'm desperately waiting for this to conclude itself with a well timed trip to the restroom. After setting
up the sound system, tuning instruments and generally bouncing off the wall for over an hour I make the
announcement:
"I'm going to the bathroom, wish me well."
The first thing I noticed in the bathroom was a red hat, with some kind of glue and a white beard and some
clothes in the floor and then black boots and red pants attached to a man pacing back and forth in front of a 30 foot mirror.
I say, "Hey."
He says, " "
I pick my stall and say a small prayer that all will be well.
All is not well as the 4Th of July in December in stall #1 at the Civic Center, in the second floor men's bathroom commences.
Sounds and squeals never before heard from this man's ears are richocheting off the stall door and bouncing off the walls of the restroom. I never studied Commode Physics but I have learned that a commode does indeed make a fine echo chamber and has nary a conscience in buffeting the human condition of food poisoning.
Belches followed wind for at least ten minutes, intermingled only by my laughing at the pure silliness of the situation.
After making the strategic battle decision that all is as well as can be for this moment I once again say a prayer that I can make it through our performance without embarassing myself or literally making my bandmates sick. So, I open the stall door and there stands;
Kris Kringle. Yes the one and only Santa himself. PaPa Gigio. The betrayer of my youth. The no horse bringing ( Christmas 1968) cookie eatin' fatman.
Santa is looking at himself in the mirror. Slowly his head turns to see the tortured soul in Stall#1 coming out, head down, eyes half closed praying, "Please don't look Santa, please don't look Santa..."
But Santa did look. Santa watched me wash my hands and straighten my shirt. Santa watched me stumble out the door.
Santa did not ask me what I wanted for Christmas. Did not aske me if I'd been a good boy. Santa did not offer his sure expertise on the hazards of leftovers or Sssstrrrommmbollleeee from Pizza Inn.
I don't know what to think of Santa anymore.
ps. (Added Sunday night)
All's well that ends well.
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13 comments:
Poor Santa! He probably was speechless after all that. Lucky he wasn't gasping for air!
Santa is a sums of witch. He is obviously not empathetic, in fact, i would consider him an empathic failure from my standpoint. he could at least leave some kaopectate in your stocking. I fully understand and appreciate your predicament, and hope you make a quick and full recovery. In the meantime, catch up on your reading. or like me, have a laptop that is in there with you.
I want you to know that I am, in general, a stoic soul, and while I usually smile readily it takes a lot to make me chuckle out loud. Also want you to know your post had me in stitches.... loud ones!
I just realized that Santa will probably tell the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny and now I am really screwed.Thank you Rachel, Susie, and Seeker for your concern.
Well, strangely enough I find myself thanking a fellow Okie whom I do not know for a really loud boisterous fit of laughing over a bad bit of stromboli on a Monday morning. In high school I never dreamed my life would turn out like this.
I've had food poisoning. I feel your pain.
Your blog is a riot. You're bookmarked and I will be back!
And what did we learn from this?
Stromboli...bad!!
Listen to your gut feeling....when the waitress says "No one has ever ordered that before" It is for a reason!!
I think I saw something like this on Seinfeld once. Are you Kramer??
No Auntie Jo. You of all people should know that I am Jerry.
Every year I play santa's helper for the children. He puts up with alot of bodily functions from children of every race creed and color. He never complained until we visited muskogee oklahoma the other day.
When he first walked up to me with bright red eyes and his beard carefully poked into each nostril, I thought he may have found my christmas present from Ziggy Marley. He was stuttering as he shuffled by me not even aware of my presence. "ssttrombbboleeee. another ssttrombbbbboleeeee incident ahhhhh!" It would have been funny if he hadn't walked out in front of that bus.
We will be having a benefit to raise money for our documetary "Strombolie- weapon of satan" please help us spread the word about this heartless santa bashing colon blowing menace
That's funny! As long as you're feeling better, by the way.
oh. dear.
maybe stromboli and cinnabon aren't the best chemistry? :o)
It's not so much the pizza or its pizza-like strŏm-bō'-lē cousin that cause the gastrointestinal (and environmental) distress as that crushed red pepper the pizza places always have out on the table. I learned this long ago.
Not firsthand, mind you. Secondhand.
Which is worse.
When I was much younger and living at home, my aunt brought her boyfriend (later husband, later than that ex-husband) to visit. Let's call him Dick—not because of the events that follow but because that was his name.
Anyway, the bunch of us went out to eat at Pizza Hut, and Dick was shaking on the crushed red pepper heavy and thick.
"Don't you think you're using an awful lot of that?" my mother asked.
"Nah. I love this stuff," Dick said. To prove it, he picked up the shaker and applied some more red pepper.
Moving forward in time about 7 hours to my bedroom, which I had been directed to share with Dick. It was... I...
I'm sorry. I can't continue.
My only memory of red pepper at a pizza joint was the time in ninth grade someone dared me to eat a piece of pizza piled one inch high with red pepper and me with no money ate the pizza and then ran 12 blocks straight home to stop the burning in my mouth. I never claimed to be too bright.
My name is John Diamond and i would like to show you my personal experience with Nexium.
I am 58 years old. I have bee taking Nexium on and off for 2 years. For the last 3 months I have been taking 1-40mg daily. I have been cycling for 10 years riding avg. of 150 miles a week. I noticed this year I had no energy. Was riding 4 to 5 times a week and could hardly go. A fellow rider told me last week about the vitimin B absorbtion problem and other side effects he had from Nexium. I quit the Nexium last week and I could really tell the differance in my energy level. I was riding regularly and watching what I ate but could not see a weight loss. Now I see that others are having the same problems. I had never had the itchy rectum problem in my life untill a couple of months ago, when I started back on the Nexium on a regular basis.
I have experienced some of these side effects-
Fatigue, weight gain, itchy rectum
I hope this information will be useful to others,
John Diamond
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