The Airplane Joke

My dad had this friend growing up named Jay.  When they were kids, Jay would often come over and stay for long periods of time to the point where my grandmother would say, "Jay, aren't your parents expecting you home?"  He would say, "Nah, they're fine.  They don't mind."  And then he would stay for dinner, dessert, coffee, and beyond.  Jay was a well-meaning guy, perhaps just misunderstood by his peers.  As a matter of fact, most of his friends were much older, and this is where he would learn all his jokes.

Jay had a knack for remembering and telling jokes, and he had one for just about every topic.  My dad would hear many of them through out their high school years and in their freshman year of college because Jay signed up to be roommates with my dad without asking him first.  Jay flunked out after his freshman year, but he was quickly a legend on campus, as you can well imagine.  Later on he would survive the Vietnam war as a well-decorated helicopter pilot.

Jay may have kept his buddies alive by keeping them laughing.

Every now and again I will be with my dad, and he will say "that reminds me of one of Jay's jokes . . ."  Now, when I was a kid, my father would just say that across the table to my mom who would likely groan but sometimes the two of them would laugh their heads off.  My sister and I didn't get to hear the jokes because 95% of the jokes were dirty.  This was frustrating.  I needed to hear the jokes.  I remember one called "The Airplane Joke" that even after I began to hear most of the jokes, that is one where my dad would laugh and say "No, it's too disgusting and pointless."  Naturally, that's the one I needed to hear the most.

So, since I'm pretty sure most of my readers are of age and not easily offended, I give you . . . "The Airplane Joke!"

A disenchanted salesman settled into his seat for his long flight to Newark for a boring business trip when he sees the most beautiful woman he has ever seen coming down the aisle.  He begins to get excited to see that she is slowing down and checking the seat numbers more carefully, and there was a good possibility she would be sitting next to him.  Sure enough, she was, and up close she was even more sexy and gorgeous than he could have possibly imagined.  

He knew he had to say something to her because opportunities such as this just don't come up very often.  "Off to Newark?" he asked.  

"Yup," she responded, without paying him much attention.

"Not a lot to do there, but I have been a number of times and can let you know the more tolerable hot spots."

"Thanks," she said, again without much enthusiasm and perhaps slightly annoyed.

He knew he didn't have a shot with her at this point, but he was growing infatuated with her.  Her sheer beauty was mind-blowing to him, and as hours passed, he found himself growing unable to contain himself.  He was becoming aroused and dying to touch her, but he knew that was wrong.  He had never had this type of arousal before where all common sense and any rational thought was out the window; all he could think about was her incredible hotness and a need to relieve the tension in his pants.  

Before he knew it he was touching himself discreetly, and soon that gave way to more obvious fondling of his crotch area.  Before he knew it he had unzipped his pants and was masturbating in front of all to see on the airplane!  It wasn't long at all before he finished up, screaming in ecstasy and spraying his load on the back of the seat with a lout splat. 

Tucking his thing back into his fly and learning his seat back, he lit up a cigarette (you could smoke on planes back then), blew out a big puff of smoke, and a big, satisfied grin came over his face.  

Suddenly it occurs to him that he may have made a mistake!  He turns to her and says, "Oh, forgive me, you don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

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Hope you enjoyed the joke, readers.  And Jay, if you're out there, I hope I did your joke justice.  I took a lot of artistic liberties and really had some fun with it because all I really knew was the basic concept and the punch line.  Thank you for your service.  And thanks for the jokes.  

Smoke 'em if you got 'em, everyone!  

I felt rather uninspired for gift ideas this year, but one that I did get right is a trip for me and my father to go to the Baseball Hall of Fame in July.  My dad is getting up there in years, and he has never been to see The Hall, despite being the most knowledgeable baseball historian I know.  As a kid, I remember seeing him spending hours leafing through the Baseball Encyclopedia, making notes in his illegible handwriting about things he happened to know about various players and their seasons, such as Babe Ruth's worst season due to health complications he had due to a hot dog eating contest.  If you ask him any question you can think of, such as any big name player's lifetime average, he can rattle it off immediately.

He and I have 4 days in Cooperstown, N.Y., and we're staying in a cozy little bed and breakfast in the "penthouse suite," which is the ideal room because we can spread out, and multiple beds are good because my dad is on a slightly different sleep schedule than me (he goes to bed at 8pm and gets up around 4AM). 

Even if some family members got gift cards and the like from me this time around, I was really proud of this gift, and I felt like the best son ever when I saw how excited he was about it.

Everyone else have a good holiday?  Anyone want to share a good gift they got or gave away?

Kerry King Went and Knocked Up Our Moms

Southie and I were watching professional football at the bar today, and we had one of those days where we kept finishing each others sentences.  At one point I was planning on making the exact same joke as him, but I was taking a sip of beer so he got it off first.  We decided that we must be related, so some awesome dude like Kerry King from Slayer must have knocked up our moms.  He would have been in his early teens before rock stardom, but I think he may have gotten it done, like maybe he was sent to boarding schools in Boston and Chicago when he was getting in too much trouble growing up in L.A.

Here is our dad with the guitar player from Megadeth in a name that tune competition in Japan.  And why does Marty Friedman speak perfect Japanese? 

The Olive Race

When my dad was pledging his fraternity he participated in something called The Olive Race in which a bunch of pledges had to run across a big room with an olive held in their asses, and the last place finisher and all who dropped their olives had to eat their cargo. I'm proud of my father for a lot of things, and one of them is that he finished first in this race.

This is out of character for my dad, seeing as he's a college professor who I've never seen drink more than two consecutive beers in one sitting. I mean, he's a jogger like me, so the race I can see, but things in our butts is not a Noisewater thing.

So, yesterday while standing around the appetizers, including olives, before Christmas dinner, I said to my dad, "Hey, do you fancy an olive race?" We all had a good laugh about that, as we've heard the story many times. I had to ask him this time who lost the race, and he knew his name straightaway: Ron Wilson. I asked if he got dysentery and died shortly thereafter, to which my dad said, "I hope so. I hated his guts." I guess old Ron Wilson flunked out not long after eating an olive that dropped out of his own butt. Not a good college experience, I'd say. Go Noisewaters! We're winners!!