I have been instructed to try and incorporate some universal truths into my standup comedy.  I found this a strange request as I was not really sure what a universal truth was.  “Just talk about a few things you like and a few things you don’t like and see if they have some universal truth involved.”  And then I realized that some of the my universal truths might just apply to my universe.  So I will put a few things down on paper to see if they apply to the universe or just mine.  Either way.  I’m thinking.  And that’s a start.

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I like getting my hair washed by a beautiful woman.  It’s one of the only reasons I will get a haircut.  There’s something I like about the feeling.  Is that a universal truth?  When I’m getting my hair washed there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.  I even had my hair washed recently in a sink and I enjoyed it.  The faucet was pretty low so there were a few close calls but in the end I couldn’t deny the shine.  I also really like soapy handjobs in the shower.  There is something about the soap and water combination that really brings out the best in me.  It might be the fact that I like things clean and shiny.  I’m noticing a theme.  I like my hair clean and shiny.  Like my dick.  Is that a universal theme? And like my hair, I prefer shampoo and then conditioner. Separate bottles.  Don’t like it when they combine shampoo and conditioner.  Not on my scalp and not on my dick.  When they combine them I feel like they are rushing?  Shampoo to start, conditioner to finish. And rinse completely before the conditioner please.  I know the rules. 

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Now the shower handjob I’m referring to is not self- inflicted.  I’m not a big fan of masturbation. I like to save my chi for special occasions.  I will only partake in the masturbation festival if I’m being encouraged or getting it ready for something. Maybe dinner and a movie.  A nice phone conversation can also be cause for the celebration.  So let’s get back to the possible universal truth of the soapy handjob in the shower.  I like the girl to be in the shower with me.  I prefer that.  I’m old fashioned.  A romantic. Even though I’m very tall, I’m skinny enough to stay out of the girls way.  Women love their alone time in the shower.  So if you’re going to invade it you better bring your A game.  In a perfect world, maybe help them with a few spots they might not be able to reach on their own then get the hell out of their way. 

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Back to the soapy handjob.  Now if the girl is not in the shower but reaching in from the safety of the other side of the glass or curtain due to a time constraint or the fact that she just wants you to quit trying to have sex with her for a few hours it’s important for that girl to occasionally make eye contact. And say something encouraging. Like, “wow.” It’s not good if they complain about water splashing on their hand or start doing their make up with the free hand.  First of all, it’s soap and water, not acid rain.  But I’m pretty sure most men wouldn’t mind a handjob with acid rain if that was their only option.  It all comes down to how clean do you really want your dick.  And second of all, get the other hand involved.  There are a few trigger spots that might like to be incorporated.  

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I’m wondering if I have anymore universal truths that I know of.  Personally, if I could get my hair washed while getting a soapy handjob I might actually cry.  But for this to happen I’d need a to get a chair in my shower.  I’m tall so I’d have to bend over to get the scalp attacked correctly.  Posture comes into play when getting hair washed.  If you’re bent over, there’s strain on the neck.  Back to the hotel sink washing.  I was worried about a concussion on the faucet and neck strain but was happy to feel those fingers in my greasy locks.

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So that is a look at my universal truths.  I like soapy handjobs in the shower because the water hitting my back feels like a waterfall.  I like my hair washed by others because it seems to get cleaner.  And everything always feels a little better if someone else is doing it for us.  Also, last but not least, one more universal truth.  Women like men with shaved balls.  Never have I heard of a woman saying, too smooth.  Too shiny.  I use a razor.  Straight edge.  Like in the old west. It takes time.  You have to really care about the woman and your balls if you’re willing to spend an hour alone with them.  I have time.  It’s not a problem for me.  Balls, wash my hair, then dick.  Balls are my alone time.  Shaving the balls with a straight edge razor must be done in silence.  You can combine a good hair washing and soapy handjob but you can’t include the straightedge ball shave with either. 

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For those of you that have been asking me how my root is doing?  It has been removed.  Today my root cannoli was taken out of molar 14.  I call it a cannoli only because it was filled with the opposite of sweet sugary goodness.  When my dentist drilled into the tooth he said “jesus!”  As a patient one of the things you don’t want to hear a doctor with twenty years of drilling into teeth say when he drills into yours is “jesus.”  He was referring to the amount of infection in the tooth and the smell of death that came out into the atmosphere.  He said it was bad and that I should have done this months ago.  It seemed like he was right because I had been aware of a pain in my head for months.  I thought it had just been the heat of the valley and a friends German Shepherd, Hutch, staying on the couch that I’d been forced to walk daily. 

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He wondered if anyone had complained about my breath. I said, “Nope. Not to my face.” But then I realized I hadn’t really spoken to anyone face to face in months. He said it was bad and whoever I’d been kissing must really love me.  I told him I hadn’t been doing much kissing either and he said it might have been due to molar 14. I told him I’d like to believe it was the root of that molar that was keeping the lips away but I fear it might have been something much deeper. But either way, I’m now ready for lips and close dialogue. He said he’d pass on the kiss but he did let me breathe on him and he gave me a thumbs up.  He was wearing the swine flu mask so I’m not going to take his word to the bank.    

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As for the swelling.  He said the swelling in my cheek will now go down.  I had no idea I had swelling in my cheek.  He said I did and it will start to go down now.  That was great news.  If I thought I was good looking now I can’t wait for the new and improved cheek.  What a great day.  I’m now on antibiotics for the next week so whatever else is in my body that’s bad will be killed as well.  Having a shitty root in a tooth I guess is not a good thing.  Because as soon as I got it removed I went and hit golf balls and have never hit the ball straighter or further.  And I get all the numbness in my lips without the cocaine and stupid talk that goes with it.  I did have trouble speaking for awhile but was pulling off a pretty strong Stallone impression.....

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Okay.  That’s it.  Just wanted to tell the few of you that kept checking in on the canolli that it has left the arena.  I have had my first root canal and it wasn’t that bad. But it wasn’t the easiest roots for my dr. to take out.  There was a little resorption in the tooth as well. Dental resorption defined is when the body cells aggress and destruct part of a tooth. It is not exactly known why cells attack their own tooth, but it’s sometimes related to quite a number of factors. I blame traffic and Hutch.  Either way, molar 14 was a bitch. And the bitch has been put down for now.  And it only cost me 1181 bucks.  Let’s see if delta dental wants to step up but either way, I was willing to pay anything.  ....

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Not sure how George Washington was an effective president with wood teeth.  He had to be irritable.  My dentist asked me if I’d been moody lately. I thought back and realized that I had been thinking about murder and mayhem a lot and I haven’t been able to sleep.  He said that should all go away now.  Who knew?  If Ted Bundy had just had a few more root canals he wouldn’t have killed so many women.  And if Jeffrey Dahmer had maybe taken care of his resorption he wouldn’t have had such a sweet tooth for murdering and raping young boys.  And they found that even though Jeffrey planned on eating his victims he never really even got around to it.  I think it was because he had such bad teeth.  I mean I love barbecue.  Love it.  But had to avoid a huge authentic barbecue a few weeks ago because I couldn’t chew shit. That must be why Jeff froze the kids but never got around to eating them.  And now that I think about it, they caught Bundy because of a bite mark he left on a girls ass in a Tallahassee sorority house.  He started to take a bite out of her ass but stopped.  Sounds like resorption to me. ....

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Once my swelling goes down and I can eat again, and lose my taste for murder and mayhem I’m going to eat some barbecue and kiss something. I might even kiss a canolli. Or bite a sweet ass. Or vice versa.  

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It’s 10:53 a.m. on September 15, 2009.  I was not going to write today until I saw a fly land on my computer screen.  It was a sign.  It said this computer is dying.  You better use it right now.  And by the time I could take a picture of the fly it was gone.  But it was there long enough for me to realize that my computer was a piece of shit.  Flies like shit.  So now I try and get a few thoughts on paper.  I will try and be done with this entry by 11:00.  That’s seven minutes.  I’m pretty sure I’m down to six.  So what’s on my mind?

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I learned this week that I would rather drown then freeze to death.  I always thought drowning would be the worst way to die.  But the truth is if the water is warm enough it might be kind of a pleasant departure.  Drowning would still suck if you’re being held under while taking a bath.  But if you just get tired of swimming and decide to sink then maybe it’s a gentle death.  But this week, it became clear to me that I do not want to freeze to death.  Freezing to death is now at the top of my list of ways I do not want to die.  Getting blow jobbed to death is still my favorite one I think followed closely by hand jobbed to death.  If I could combine them both with a margarita and chicken taco then death can come today.  Maybe that’s what the fly was checking on. 

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Let me explain how I learned about the freezing fear.  I went to the dentist to check on a molar that seemed to be not happy.  Molar number 14 to be exact.  Top left.  You know the one.  In order to check for nerve damage they take a little stick of co2 and touch it to a tooth.  They say cold is the best way to check a nerve.  My dentist told me to raise my hand the moment I felt pain.  I hate that much cold.  It really hurts.  The idea of my whole body feeling that freezing sensation is now at the top of things I don’t want to feel.  I really hated that feeling!  And I didn’t raise my hand.  He checked all my teeth with that little co2 death stick.  Eventually after two teeth and quit raining my hand and just started yelling, “fuck.”  He told me to keep it down and I told him it’s the way I deal with pain.  If you want to keep hurting me with that shit I will continue to say fuck.  It’s a reflex. 

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And then he got to number 14 and he put that stick to it and I felt nothing.  The nerve has left the building.  Which I guess means I need a root canal.  They have to go in there and take out the root.  Why I say?  If I don’t feel anything let’s just leave it.  I will not eat on that side of my mouth.  I will chew on the right and just drink in the vicinity of number 14.  So that’s where I’m at world.  I will be getting a root canal in the next couple of days.  And even though it will hurt I’m sure it won’t hurt as bad as freezing to death.  I use to want to climb to the top of everest.  But now that I realize that cold kind of hurts I’ve decided to climb a coconut tree in Hawaii.  Play in a hammock and try not to drown.  But if I do it will still be better than having a co2 freeze stick pressed against my teeth to check for nerve damage. 

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Almost Jewish.  Before I even get to the title of this entry, “internet entry”. Let’s call it that instead of a blog. Judging by my time in between writings it has clearly become apparent that the word ‘blogging” had defeated me.  But I’m ready to get back on the horse.  And the horse I’m sitting on today is a chair at the coffee bean.  Today I become that person I never wanted to become.  The one that sits at the coffee bean writing on their computer.  I have chosen a seat in a corner, hidden by a wall but I’m still here.  I’m still the guy in the corner clicking the keys.

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And so the click begins.  Why am I almost Jewish? I have recently completed a two week stay in Israel and left the country feeling like if I had to choose a religion, I might be leaning toward the Jewish faith.  Why? Good question.  I will say this, I won’t be the orthodox version. I believe the orthodox slant is the slant that doesn’t like to mix meat and cheese.  I don’t trust anyone that is against the cheeseburger.  I stayed at an orthodox hotel in Jerusalem that wouldn’t mix meat and cheese.  They even had a part of the restaurant that served meat, and a part that actually had some cheese.  But they wouldn’t bring a slice of Swiss over to my table.  Swiss is neutral cheese.  Not really hurting anyone.  Please bring me some cheese.  And why do they shun the bread?  That is why I’m okay with Judaism but not the extreme part.  I like the black hats and sideburns, very Outlaw Josey Wales, but I don’t like the no cars on Chabot.

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Chabot!  I started to spell it with an “S” and then I asked a guy at the table next to me how to spell it and he told me it’s “CH” abot. “Lot’s of Jewish friends” he said. Okay.  That’s the one advantage to writing at the Coffee Bean.  If I have a spelling question I can just ask the person at the next table.  What a wonderful sense of community at the coffee bean.  All of us with our computers trying to change the world.  Who am I to judge the others clicking their keys?  We are all trying to create product.  Make the world a better place.  Or at least make some money.  Why am I writing? Because I need to feel I’m doing something before I go spend the rest of a Wednesday golfing.  And I was told by my manager to create “content.” Fine.  Call it what you want.  Today, I create content then golf.  

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Back to Almost Jewish.  It’s not just their fear of cheeseburgers that is keeping me from becoming orthodox… well… maybe it is.  People ask if it’s scary in Israel.  The only time I was scared in Israel was the first night.  Here’s what happened.  Got to Tel Aviv.  Jumped in a rental car.  By the way, this new rental car looked like it had been delivering pizza for a year in the Gaza strip.  It really looked like it had been through a high speed chase.  Quite a bit of body damage.  I walked around the car with the Hertz guy and he had a little clip board with the outline of the car.  Every time I pointed out some damage he sketched it into the drawing.  By the time we got around the car, the drawing was completely sketched in.  It looked like a new car. “Hey, that’s the car I want.  And the color.”

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Drove to Jerusalem.  My buddy and I were quite surprised at the lack of traffic.  No cars.  Just lots of people walking around in black.  Lots of long curls and beards on the boys and girls.  We drove down streets.  Wow.  No traffic.  We were the only car in Jerusalem.  Lots of dirty looks.  Had these people never seen a car before?  Eventually we found our way to our hotel.  Once there we found out that the lack of traffic was due to Chabot.  No cars are allowed to be driven on this holy Jewish day.  And we found out that we were lucky that they didn’t throw stones at the car.  But then it dawned on me.  The rental car was such a piece of shit they must have thought we had already been stoned on the previous street.  Thank you Hertz for looking out for the goys.

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Went to the wailing wall.  This is a wall that has been around for a long time.  This is a wall that all the Jews throughout history have come to and prayed. I put on a little cap and prayed as well.  The wall is filled with little pieces of paper.  You write out a wish and fold it up and stick it in the wall.  Between the hat and my wish I’m pretty sure my life is on track.  I opened a few of the scraps and read some wishes.  Mostly sports car wishes and a few, kill my wife and husband wishes.  Marriage is tough even in Israel.  What else?  I think this is about all I can do from the coffee bean.  The corner I’m in really kind of smells like piss and a German family has taken over the table next to me.  It’s getting loud.  I wonder if I should tell them I’m writing about being almost Jewish. 

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I’m also almost German.  My whole life I thought I was Irish.  Before my mom died I asked her what part of Ireland were we from.  She said I have no Irish in me.  She told me she was Norwegian and my dad’s family was all German.  Thanks for the heads up mom.  My whole life I was telling people I was Irish.  Now I can tell them I’m German and almost Jewish.