A “Pain In The Ass” Limerick

Unfortunately, I started my vacation with a pain in the ass, literally! Without going into too much detail, let me put it this way, it’s not something that you want to take sitting down, which was not possible for me as I had a three and half hour flight from Houston to San Diego. Needless to say, it required pain meds which were only semi-effective. And I took enough to quell a gunshot wound which made for queasiness which only added to the discomfort. Fortunately, I was able to find an over the counter product that worked along with treatments I found on the web I could do myself. But all of the discomfort and what I had to do to get it behind me led to this, with an assist to a classic Seinfeld bit…

In an area you don’t want to sting
And the misery a hemorrhoid will bring,
To avoid the grief
And get fast relief,
Shrinkage is a really good thing!

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A Borscht Belt Senior Sex Limerick

I find the punchlines for my limericks in a lot of different places. My friends supply most of them. But current events and television provide many opportunities to hear something that just begs to become a limerick. This ditty came from TV.

I was watching JLTV (Jewish Living TV). They were showing a program of “classic” Jewish comedians and I turned it on in the middle of an old Borscht Belt routine being performed by a comic I didn’t recognize. He was doing his shtick with a “Jewish” accent, pronouncing his “s’s” like “sh” and his “w’s” like “v.” He looked familiar, but how could he not? He kind of looked like me and a whole lot of other Jewish guys I know – chiseled ethnic features (big nose and bushy eyebrows) and a chrome dome (bald).

He was telling a joke about one of my favorite subjects, Senior Sex, and I was riveted. When he got to the punchline, I knew that I had to turn the joke into a limerick. Hey, goniffing is a time honored tradition among Jewish comedians. And it led to this……

Senior Sex can be daunting when new,
So she wondered what she’d have to do.
She said, “Be honest with me.”
He replied, “Infrequently.”
And she asked, “Is that one word or two?”

An “Estate Sale and Treasure Hunting” Limerick

I love estate sales. The blood flowing through my veins and my DNA came from secondary markets. I grew up hustling used auto parts and used cars, moved into metals and then did collections. Salvage should be my middle name. So helping out my BFF and one of the loves of my life, Patti English, with her estate sale biz http://www.englishestateservices.com comes more naturally to me than writing a limerick.

I usually give Patti back at least 25% of my wages with purchases that I make. I love cooking and kitchen devices so I am all over that stuff and I collect cookbooks. I also use estate sales to purchase gifts for my dearest friends. This weekend I picked up a new never been used pooper scooper for $2. It will be house warming gift for friends who are moving to a place where they will be using a patio for a puppy potty and they have a standard poodle…..Not only is it thoughtful and useful, but also it enabled me to come in at my budget for their gift.

Estate and garage sales have brought me some very interesting and now beloved things. Mimi got me a bicycle that was just like the one I rode when I was a kid at a garage sale. I rode that bike from Houston to Austin in the 2006 BP MS150 and raised over $6000.00 for MS. When my ass hits that bicycle seat, it’s like two old friends having a joyous reunion. Mimi would have been in a 12 step program for garage sale addiction had she not taken her act to Heaven. Now Arleen had a polar opposite attitude towards bringing home stuff. When I moved in with her before we got married, when she kissed me goodbye in the morning, she would leave me with these marching orders, “Don’t you bring another frigging thing back to this house from your frigging house!” which, of course, was full of Mimi’s stuff. And she didn’t say “frigging.” I always look to Heaven and say “Now don’t be pissed” when I am bringing my estate sale plunder home.

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But I can’t help myself. There are always things that are just too cool to pass up or things that touch a precious memory and you have to have it. And that is essentially the lure of the estate sale.

There is another aspect to an estate sale that brings something wonderful and intangible to the table. Every item has some attachment to the Life of the person whose estate is being sold. It is part of the job of the people who do estate sales to conduct the business of selling off someone’s lifetime accumulation of possessions in a dignified, respectful manner. Patti English does this as well as it can be done and it is why I love working for her. She gets it. And that led to this….

Putting prices on people’s stuff
Is a task that’s incredibly tough.
To value personal treasures
And the Life that it measures
Couldn’t possibly be enough.

When someone’s estate is sold
The Life it represents is extolled.
It’s Legacy
Undergoes alchemy
When that stuff becomes another person’s gold.

A “Foot In Mouth Disease” Limerick

Let me begin by saying that a lot of what I am writing about here, I learned from first-hand experience. I have long been guilty of talking without thinking first. Once those words escape past your teeth, there is no turning back and you have done something that Honest Abe Lincoln advised us against.

“Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.”

With me there was never a doubt. As lifelong standup comic wannabe, I recklessly went after every cheap laugh I could and that would usually end up with any and all of my three wives calling me an idiot and me apologizing for being an idiot. I have backed off in my old age and now use the written word more for joke telling as it comes with a delete button so you can edit it before you’re regretting it.

We all known smart people, very smart people without a lick of common sense or social skills or both. My mom had a life partner who graduated sum a cum laude from Smith. My mom was almost expelled from high school a week before graduation for setting off a cherry bomb in cooking class. Her partner couldn’t cross the street unless mom told her it was ok to go.

I have described people like this, especially the one’s totally lacking tact and social skills, as Homer Simpson’s with a 125 IQ. They are Mindless Mensa’s and you never know what is going to come out of their mouths.

After a recent episode with someone who has the uncanny ability to always say the wrong thing at the wrong time, when I got done asking him the universal rhetorical question (“Are you out of your fucking mind?”) I offered some unsolicited free advice which became the last line of this limerick.

We all know people with a beautiful mind.
Despite they’re high IQ’s we find
They’ll say stupid things
And with the backlash it brings….
They need to quit while they’re behind!

A “Dunlap’s Disease” Limerick

There is no question that getting old sucks. I could have never imagined back in 1970, when I graduated high school, that the two pills in the first line of the song White Rabbit by the Jefferson Airplane would turn out to be Viagra and FloMax. One pill makes your penis larger and one pill makes your prostate small.

It’s a battle trying to keep that aging body from coming apart. If The Curse of 40 is that every ache and pain hurts twice as much and lasts twice as long, the curse goes exponential at 60. It takes effort and will power to fight the good fight.

So it’s no surprise that nearly 40% of adults 40-59 suffer from obesity. Many men in this age group think that a knife and fork are exercise equipment and sitting down to a big home cooked meal with their wives is working out with a personal trainer.

Subsequently, there are a whole lot of middle aged guys walking around with Dunlap’s Disease. Dunlap’s Disease is a gender specific affliction that affects the abdominal region. It gets its name from how it appears when a man is wearing pants and his belly done lapped over his belt. It ain’t any prettier when he isn’t wearing pants. There are men walking around this great country that haven’t looked down and seen their toes or their privates in years. They obviously haven’t seen themselves in profile or give a rat’s ass anyway.

I asked a buddy of mine how he let himself get into this condition and his answer was this – My wife is a great cook.
And with that in mind, it led to this…

In the kitchen my woman’s a winner
And I’m not one to be late for dinner.
If what my wife cooks
Was bought with my good looks….
I assure you, I’d be a lot thinner!

A New Perspective On Sex Limerick

WARNING – Some material in this limerick may not be suitable for anyone who has not been called an idiot by their wife/wives or girlfriends.

Which is something that has been a pretty regular occurrence for me in my thirty years of marriage to three wives and my relationships with my many girlfriends when I wasn’t married. I would venture to say that if I had a dollar for anytime a wife or girlfriend called me an idiot, I could live comfortably off the interest.

I like sex. Always have and always will. But as I’ve grown older, I have found that I just don’t have the same level of desire and energy to make it happen. If it comes my way, I am not going to turn it away but is not something that I am going to put a lot effort into to make happen where it was once something that was a hot pursuit (pun intended.)

I once wished women would want to screw me.
Not a priority now that I’m sixty three.
I’ve even debated
That pussy’s overrated….
And not all that it’s cracked up to be!

A “Dancing The Night Away” Limerick

When I was in the sixth grade, fifty one years ago, I took dance lessons as part of the right of passage into becoming an awkward teenager. Thirteen is a big time age for Jewish kids. It’s Bar and Bat Mitzvah time and that means lots of parties with dancing, so my mom sent me off to Carlos & Kay to learn how to trip the light fantastic. I am happy to say that I am glad she did. I can still do the same “jitterbug” steps I learned way back then and that are now being recycled as “swing dancing.” I know this because I have taken some swing dancing lessons with a friend and it was nothing more than a refresher course for me.

I do like to go out dancing. It is good exercise, music is good for the soul, and it can be the beginning of a beautiful ending for a fun night out. Back when I was at Clemson, they used to say this about the dangers of dancing-

Q Why don’t Baptists fornicate?
A It could lead to dancing!

Nuff said.

I was meeting someone for a little swing dancing recently and she asked me what my favorite type of dancing was not counting a certain step that she was certain I was proficient at and that led to this…..

This might sound like a Freudian Slop.
I’m a dude who can dance ’til I drop.
I’ve become quite adept
At my favorite step….
I love doing the Horizontal Bop!

An “Empathy Counts For Nothing” Limerick

Falling down is not good at any age. When you factor in “The Curse of 40” it goes from not good to potentially very bad. The Curse of 40 is this – on your 40th birthday, from that day forward, every ache and pain will hurt twice as much and will last twice as long. The best you can hope for going forward and battling the aging process is that it doesn’t get any worse than that. So when there is some distance from that cursed birthday, you can see how falling down has pain in the ass written all over it, literally and figuratively.

Unfortunately, falling down is exactly what happened to my girlfriend last night. A normally light on her feet ballroom dancer she caught a wet spot on the kitchen floor and it was “watch her feet go past her head on the way down” time. Ouch. Leg, head, and, of course, ass, as in pain in the ass. Throw in that your boyfriend also brings that quality to the table and what you have there is a perfect storm for an add insult to injury kind of limerick.

After my Sweetie went bottoms up
I knew we were not going to shtup.
I said, “I feel your pain
So I suggest we refrain.”
She replied, “Stop trying to cheer me up.”

A Should I Say Thanks For Not Asking Limerick

I am resisting aging with all my might. I’m holding up mentally. Physically is another story. I have always remained fit since my high school days. I still like working out and playing sports. That part of physically is fine. It’s the bald, gray, bags under my eyes, have to take a pill to piss part of physically that is messing with me.

I start out every day by walking into the bathroom, looking in the mirror, screaming and going about my business. It’s been a daily ritual for a long time. However, I recently made the mistake of moving in for a closer examination. It wasn’t pretty. I saw the dreaded “O” word staring back at me.

The day before this self observation took place, I stopped at a fast food joint for a cup of coffee. I got a nice senior discount…without asking for it. That led to the mirror which led to this –

It seems I’m approaching the geriatric stage
And how fast I’m going has been hard to gauge.
Oy, even at my best
I fail the mirror test…
It’s senior price now without asking my age!

A Senior Heavy Eyelids Limerick

Despite my having chronic Peter Pan Syndrome, my body has not been able to will itself to remain youthful. I have always been dedicated to working out and trying to keep my body fit and as young as possible. It has worked well for most of my body. I have been able to control my hypertension, one of the only things my mother left me, my flexibility, and my weight and cholesterol. But aging coupled with my genes has affected my hair (mostly gone and the little bit left gray), my prostate and my eyes.

One of the natural progressions of aging is the transformation from night hawk to early bird. As we age, we get up earlier and earlier. For me, the most difficult step of the day is still the first swing my legs out of bed and put my feet on the floor step. But now, when I feel the floor under my feet, the first words out of my mouth are, “Woo Hoo. I made another one!”

In my youth, I was definitely a late night person. In college, I either studied all night or partied all night or shtupped all night (those were the days). As I grew older and had to be responsible and hold a job, the latter two activities became more and more relegated to the weekend. Now as a senior they are mostly a figment of my imagination. I am still able to occasionally do both, however, finding someone to do them with has become a challenge, especially because I am married. My wife is in bed at nine o’clock every night and up at 5 AM.

One thing that has not changed is that I am a sports nut and this is great time of year for watching sports on television with the NBA and NHL finals. I watch the beginnings of all these games. I can usually make it to halftime. Since I got married in October, I don’t drink beer during the games which increases my chances. But unfortunately, I do not find out the outcome of the games until I turn on ESPN at 5:15AM the next morning. I have made many a valiant effort to watch a game to its conclusion, but despite the possible great drama that could be unfolding, when the eyelids get heavy, the room goes dark. A game winning buzzer beater could be in the air, if gravity, weight and age take over my eyelids, I am not seeing if it goes in. It has happened too many times not to call it a senior affliction.

And it has led to this:

This senior affliction is really a shame.
At 10PM, my eyelids go lame.
Before I start to snore,
What I’m hoping for…
Is to see the end of a game!