Monday, December 26, 2005

they say its your birthday

Mike doesn’t know this, but the last time I stayed at “the Winnebago that Making Mediocre Porn Built” while he was in Tampa,
I decided to put together a little “This is Your Life” type thing for his birthday. (Yes, Goddess thinks that far in advance.
And yes, Goddess knew in advance that the General was gonna be too lazy to write a column on his birthday.)
So I drove my sweet little Hoveround to his neighbors to see if they would tell me what their favorite memory of Mike was.
It went something like this…
Goddess: “Hi, I’d like to talk to you about your neighbor, Mike South.”
Old White Lady: “WHO?!”
Goddess: “I’d like to talk to you about Mike South.”
Old White Lady: “WHO?!”
Goddess: “Your neighbor, Mike South.”
Old White Lady: “WHO?!”
Goddess: “Mike. Sou--oh, fuck it.”
Old White Lady: “Fuck YOU, too, bitch. Get your g.d. car off my porch!”

Goddess: “Hi, I’d like to talk to you about your neighbor, Mike South.”
Dopehead: “Wanna buy some crack?”
Goddess: “Uh, no. I want to talk to you about your neighbor, Mike South.”
Dopehead: “Does he want to buy some crack?”
Goddess: “Umm, no.”
Dopehead: “Drive your fat ass off my porch, bitch. I got a business to run.”

Extra Chubby dude in g string: (At least I think it was a g string. It had a way of disappearing every time he turned around.) “Is he the loud one?”
Goddess: “Yes!”
Extra Chubby dude in g string: “Is he the opinionated one?”
Goddess: “yes!”
Extra Chubby dude in g string: “Is he that excellent bass fisherman?”
Goddess: “Oh, Lord, no.“ I laughed and laughed. “That’s Mike Iaconelli.”

Neighbor #100: “Wait now lemme think. South, South…did he sing “Games People Play?”
Goddess: “Nope. That Mike’s older brother Joe. Think about it some more. His place is the one where there's a constant parade of chicks in and out."
Neighbor # 100: (after much thought) “Oh! He’s the flamboyant one!’
Goddess: “Oh yeah!”
Neighbor #100: “White?”
Goddess: “You got it, honey!”
Neighbor #100: “Talks funny?”
Goddess: “Bring it on home, sister!“
Neighbor #100: “Sang Billy Jean is Not My Lover?”
GUH.
I didn’t care at this point. I just wanted some damn memories for the column.
Goddess: “Yes. Yes, that’s Mike South. What‘s your fondest memory of him?”
Neighbor #100: “Well I like his fifth chin, but his second nose and I dance to his Thriller album all the time….”
There ya have it. Sooooo many memories, so little time.

Ok, screw them. I put so many miles on my Hoveround I had to take it in for an oil change.
So let’s talk about what *I’ve* learned from Mike South these 6 (frightening) years that I‘ve known him.
The list of lessons learned is endless--actually it‘s not, thank God.
I’ve learned that the prime of a woman’s life is between the ages of 18 and 22. Before 18 she’s too young, after 22 she’s a washed up hag. If she reaches the ripe old age of 40, she will be carrying so much man hating baggage, she might as well curl up in her afghan, eat bon bons, and plan on having dildo sex for the rest of her life.
I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way) that if you don’t really want to hear the truth about something, don’t ask Mike South his opinion on it.
I’ve learned that every man must have an enemy. Some men seem to attract more than their fair share. And some men seem to go out of their way to get them.
When a woman says “he doesn’t like me,“ it means “disagree politely and build up my self esteem by lying and telling me how much he does like me.“ When a guy says “he doesn’t like me” it means “he doesn’t like me.” Damn. Guys are weird.
I’ve learned that guys don’t lay in bed eating chocolate and reading romance novels all day. Guh. They *are* weird.
I’ve learned that if a movie isn’t gory, bloody and at least one person isn’t disemboweled, it’s not worth watching.
I’ve learned that some of Mike’s favorite things are cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudel, doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles. Ok ok! I ran out of whiskey and had to think with a clear head for a few seconds. Luckily the drugs are kicking in now, so let’s move on.
I’ve learned that you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar, and you catch more honeys when you master the art of eating pussy.
I've learned that there are women out there who will bring home other women for their men to fuck. 6 years later and I still can't wrap my brain around that one.
I’ve learned that when you have no chicken to make fried chicken, cats will suffice.
I’ve learned that a one night stand usually lasts about two hours, and a really serious “I think I love her” relationship lasts three weeks to one month. Depends on how long it takes for the chicks to start saying what they really think.
I’ve learned that there are one hell of a lot of women on this planet named Heather and Taylor, and most of them have had sex with Mike South.
I’ve learned that no matter how many times you say it, “Confederate Cuties” is a sad, sad name for a video series.
I’ve learned that people will spend endless amounts of time arguing on IM as to whether or not it’s “la DE da,” or “la TE da.”
I’ve learned that it’s easier to learn Chinese math than it is to keep track of all Mike’s relationships.
I’ve learned that there is no problem so big that a week of fishing won’t cure it.
I’ve learned that if you eat all the food in a man’s condo, he will be leery about inviting you back.
I’ve learned that down South they call dilapidated trailers “condo’s.”
I’ve learned that I still hate to discuss politics and I hate to read about it even more.
I’ve learned that an overactive bladder can be a goldmine in the porn industry. No, wait. I learned that from Felicia Fox. Moving on…
I’ve learned that if you take the time to get to know Mike, you’ll never run out of funny things to write about.
I've learned that Mike loves talking about fluoridation.
I’ve learned that for every word Mike South writes, I write about 52.
I’ve learned several different dessert recipes, all involving cats.
I’ve learned that some men throw a sheet over their living room couch, and call it a “porn set.”
I’ve learned that some men consider a new t shirt and fresh jeans a movie “wardrobe.”
I’ve learned one important thing from watching the South Pole Boogie: White men can dance, but they shouldn’t. N.E.V.E.R. E.V.E.R.
I’ve learned that I can’t watch people I know having sex without giggling uncontrollably.
I’ve learned there are 101 smart ass answers to the question, "you're about to have sex with me, what thoughts are going through your mind?" Answers like “where are the exits?!” “what the hell was I thinking?!” “I can’t believe I gave up a lucrative drug selling career for *this*!“ and “cash, in advance, please.”
I’ve learned that freshwater fish are much larger than saltwater fish. Or are saltwater fish much larger than freshwater fish? Damn. Guess I didn’t learn that yet. Oh, well, unless it becomes my Final Jeopardy question, it doesn’t much matter.
I’ve learned that the difference between a gallon of Southern ice tea and a gallon of ice tea we drink in the North is about three cups of sugar.
I’ve learned that the ability to piss people off is not something that just happens, it’s a skill. A FINELY HONED SKILL.
All kidding aside, I’ve also learned that integrity is important and speaking your mind when you disagree is essential, even when you’re the lone voice in the wilderness. I’ve learned that perseverance is key and pimping yourself is a twenty four hour a day job. I’ve learned that you have to grasp life with both hands and enjoy it to the fullest because it comes to an end all too soon. And with that thought in mind, I’m going to lay on the couch and watch tv until I fall into a sugar coma.
Thank you for letting me write this, General. it fell just a cunt hair short of begin an honor.
Happy Birthday, Mikey Pooh. As you would say, “You da best.”

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