Sniff, Hike, Dribble: A Parenting Lesson From Mooner Johnson, Father-of-the-Year Nominee

 

So. I’ve been pretty busy with shit and stuff and haven’t been around the computer much. I did do an article for Katy over to Lesbians in my Soup, a returned favor for the public service work she did on my behalf. She said she’ll post it today. All the extra editing I did on that little dealio is why I’ve not been around here to the home site.

And speaking of Katy’s favor, can you even believe how quickly word spread about that non-party? Some people were even talking about how I was roasting whole hogs for dinner and how Willie and the gang were coming to entertain us. People were making guesses about the guest list and all kinds of shit. Maybe they were confusing me with Mathew McConnaughey.

Someone even sent the fucking governor an invitation, and let me tell you right now, that was funny. I got the fake RSVP card in the mail yesterday. It was marked “Decline” and in a scratchy scrawl at the bottom, it said, “Rick doesn’t think you’re funny.” It was signed, “A.”

I’m guessing that the “A” was Anita Perry, the long suffering wifey-poo to the pompadoured prick we call Governor. I’m also guessing that the scratchy scrawl to her handwriting is from the “vitamins” she takes for her nerves.

As soon as I get clearance to tell you the story, I can provide you with some very interesting insights into Mr. And Mrs. Perry. You won’t believe what happened because I wouldn’t believe it my ownself if I hadn’t been there for the experience.

And by the way. Who taught Mathew McConnaughey how to spell?

I spent the morning over to Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson’s house doing her lawn and pool. I like to walk the dogs in her neighborhood when I’m there so that the puppies can interact with other dogs, and also walking them on the pavement and concrete sidewalks keeps their nails trimmed.

Yoda the goat dog is a total trip when he walks the neighborhood. As he was raised locked in a cage at a puppy mill over to Oklahoma, he came to us without any of what the dog people call “socialization” skills. So he goes nuts every time we encounter another dog, and he barks and snarls 100-pound threats that his 12-pound butt can’t keep, and he still hasn’t come to grips with the whole concept of leaving his mark around town.

Squirt and I have spent hours teaching him the proper pissing protocol yet he still screws up most of the time. “Oh for shitsakes, Yoda, you dumb ass,” Squirt told him this morning. “First you sniff, then you lift your hind leg and then you dribble a few drops. And if you piss on my head one more time I’m feeding you to the coyotes.”

Then my adorable little puppy-translator turned to me and said to me, she said, “Do you have any idea what the attraction is with that entire golden shower thing, Mooner. I love the smell of urine but I hate to get it all over me.”

“We-ell,” I dragged out, “I’d like to say that I have no experience upon which to base an opinion, but, of course, I do.”

I then told her about the time I was down to Costa Rica with Roshandra, my ex number five and a large bladdered woman, and how I got stung on my back and the backs of my thighs by a sea nettle. “All the times before I’d been stung on my feet and calves so I could pee on myself to kill the pain,” I said. “Since my pecker is way too short to douse my back, Roshandra did the honors for me. I was lucky Roshandra can pee buckets.”

I reminisced for a minute and added, “I’d also like to say that I hated everything about it, but I can’t say that either.” For some reason the memory sparked thoughts of Thai hot and sour.

“Jesus, but you’re disgusting, Mooner. Where we going for lunch?” Squirt’s favorite meal is lunch.

We settled on Torchy’s Tacos and we hadn’t been finished eating for ten minutes when Yoda started with the refried bean farts in the car. He was riding shotgun in his harness and I had the windows up and the GTO’s A/C blasting. Squirt said, “Let’s throw him out of the car, Bwanna Mooner. I can’t take him any more.”

But the Squirt started farting too and we all got the giggles and played fart games. I was thinking about that just a while ago and it came to me that the dogs have the maturity level of ten-year-old boys, and so do I.

And I miss my father. For no visible reason at all, I have this longing to spend just one more hour with Daddy. Maybe it was the retelling of the bean farts. Daddy loved fart humor. Maybe I miss him because he was so missable.

Manana, y’all.

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9 Responses to “Sniff, Hike, Dribble: A Parenting Lesson From Mooner Johnson, Father-of-the-Year Nominee”

  1. squatlo says:

    Your ‘party’s off’ denials aren’t fooling anyone, you know. If you don’t want your rowdy friends coming over and telling incriminating stories about your lascivious behavior in the volunteer state, just say so!

    We did enjoy having Katy visit you site, though. It was like having a really cool and hot substitute teacher instead of the grumpy bastard who usually stands at the chalkboard with the pointer. Now that you’re back we’ll have some withdrawal symptoms, but we’ll get over it. Did you know Katy has actual famous people commenting on her site? Well known athiests and everything. I immediately felt both intimidated and completely at home there.

    Listen, the Rick and Anita story is just too great to sit on, so get permission or whatever it is you have to do in order to get clearance for that one, and put it into print.

    Gotta go, I’m getting ready for a big party down to Tay-Hass.

  2. Katy Anders says:

    Hey, Mooner. Thanks for the words!

    I posted it, and it’s getting a TON of page views, if not a ton of comments yet.

    I offered to supply counselors at the end, if needed. Poor folks probably can’t compose themselves enough yet to request the counselor…

    I hope I haven’t caused any bad blood between you and governor, by the way. I’m sure that if he was being honest about, he finds you as funny as you find him.

  3. squatlo says:

    Katy, trust me on this: bad blood between Mooner and the gov is out of your hands. Way the hell out of your hands.

  4. Q says:

    I miss Rick Perry. It’s been so long since I’ve heard his name. Did he ever figure out what that 3rd thing was that he forgot during the debates?

    I’m behind on reading your posts because Yoda the Goat Dog is a new one on me. I’m going to have to back track and see what I’ve missed!

  5. Father-of-the-Year Nominee, Mooner Johnson says:

    Squat. OK, first, there is no party, and second, Katy is a Texas Treasure. It’s too bad I wrecked her website.

    Katy. I am so sorry for setting your website back to the days of hard-wire connections. I have the same dealio here–thousands of views and onesy-twosies of comments.

    As for Little Pricky Perry, I’m told my humor requires a sense of same. Have you ever met an Aggie Yell Leader with a sense of humor? I have a story to tell you as soon as I get the clearance to do so. It’ll clear some things up.

    Q. I wish I missed the pious and pompous prick. I also think that I was thinking about your Mom when I started missing my father. Anytime a friend loses a parent I find myself thinking of Daddy.

  6. bj says:

    If Pricky Ricky Perry is gonna be at the party …. I’m bringin’ my SPECIAL ‘Maters! Seriously ….. should I bring my Lampshade?

  7. mel says:

    Still a little bummed that there was no mention of me in the little non party thing. Oh well…I’m over it. And I got a huge kick out of your post at Katy’s place. As you could see, I HAD FIRST COMMENT!! How you like me now?

    As for missing your Daddy…perhaps it is all of the Father’s Day in the air. Sorry about that. I never miss my sperm donor (you can read a little snippet why today as a matter of fact…). So I am a little jealous that you have him to miss I think. At any rate….Happy Father’s Day to you! I hope to hear from you soon…can’t wait to see what kind of concoction you come up with for me – make sure you note any extra “seasonings” that you use…

  8. Father-of-the-Year Nominee, Mooner Johnson says:

    Beej. Lampshades are optional, and the only party the Prick has attended, he crashed.

    Mel. I started to mention you when discussing pig meat day, but then I forgot. I appreciate your kind words over to Katy’s place and have begun a little ditty for you.

    As for my thoughts on my father, it actually started when I read Thank-Q and thought about Quincy losing his moms last week. I guess thinking of Q’s loss and a bean fart contest threw my emotions into overdrive.

  9. squatlo says:

    Mooner, you deafening silence on this here blobber is more proof that your time is being spent planning this kick-ass gay wedding party down to your ranchero. As John Cleese says to the old man in the “Bring out your dead scene” from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail”:

    “You’re not fooling anyone, you know!”

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