Wednesday, March 17, 2010
You Seriously Can't Take That Dude Anywhere.
My wife, daughter and I recently went out of town to a big cabin with a group of friends for a long weekend. One of the attendees was a guy named Joey. Another attendee was a dog named Joey. As you can imagine, this made for a number of confusing moments.
The hilarity began subtly when someone asked, "Hey, is Joey allowed on the furniture?" Someone else had the presence of mind to yell, "Hell no, he isn't!" For some reason, the idea of my friend Joey being banished to the floor was extremely funny, especially after a few drinks. I imagined him curled up next to the coffee table, a put-upon look on his face. "Seriously guys, this isn't funny," he'd say.
Things went down hill quickly from there. Joey the dog--a friendly, well-behaved Golden Retriever--did what dogs inevitably do outside. Moments later, someone said, "Oh no, Joey just crapped on the deck!" Again, imagery was the comedic engine here. Joey, sunken and ashamed, hiding while his wife cleaned his unGodly mess with a plastic bag.
"Can Joey eat cheese? Do you let Joey sleep on the bed? Joey's drinking out of the hot tub again. I guess that's better than the toilet. Look, Joey's rolling around in the snow. Joey's afraid of the vacuum cleaner. Joey's getting over-stimulated" And, triumphantly, "Joey ate the hot dog penis off that snowman!"
Like a child, I laughed at all of these comments. Others did, too, because that's what people do on long weekends, they laugh at things until they spit their beers out and have to lie down. By Sunday morning, though, the joke was close to being played out and I was hungover. Not morbidly hungover, but just enough to be intellectually dulled around the edges. Nobody had made a Joey joke in a while; we were on to other things, I guess.
When I finished packing, I came downstairs and joined my wife at the kitchen table. She was feeding our baby. "What's up, ladies?" I asked. The baby had food in her hair. There's almost always something in her hair. Comparatively speaking, food's not all that bad.
"So, guess what," my wife said.
"Joey just licked a glob of peas off of Caroline's face."
For about ten seconds I was utterly confused. I looked at my friend Joey; he was eating a bagel and fiddling with his cell phone in the kitchen.
"Umm, wait . . . what?"