Category Archives: Dicky Dickson
Well, the door is now open to Casey Anthony Trial “Media Doll Wanna-bee’s!”
Russell Huekler, teacher from Pinellas County, Florida a STAND-BY juror for the trial has made his way to pretty much every media outlet that will have him, Today Show, GMA, CBS Morning Show, CNN, Sesamee Street….
HE DIDN’T EVEN DELIBERATE!!!!!!!! And he got a page-and-a-half of Google results.
No confirmation that he will be the new host of the new cable TV show, “The Next Alternate Juror Star!” However, he IS confirmed to be a guest on Iron Chef and is expected to do a “Throw Down With Bobby Flay” program regarding Cooking-For-One-On-a Hot-Plate Filmed in One of the REAL-LIFE Alternate Juror Hotel Rooms.
Old Russ is gonna have one Helluva GREAT “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” story!!!! But he’s not a real juror!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Speaking of things not being real, here’s another NOT-real Little Johnny story.
One year, Little Johnny’s family was having a Fourth of July cookout at their home. One of the special treats that year was lighting some illegal fireworks (Roman candles, bottle rockets, missile batteries, etc.)
Just before he was to arrive, Cousin Joe called, saying his neighbors’ plans had just fallen through. Cousin Joe asked if he could bring the neighbors along to the picnic. Little Johnny’s dad said, “Sure, the more the merrier!”
When Cousin Joe arrived with his neighbors, Little Johnny and his dad found out that the head of the neighbor family was a police officer.
Little Johnny’s dad turned, as innocently as he could, to his son and whispered for him to grab the paper bag of fireworks sitting in the kitchen and hide them somewhere quickly. Little Johnny disappeared, and the Little Johnny’s dad changed the topic to food for the day.
The new guests had brought some chicken to grill, so Little Johnny’s dad told them the gas grill was all set to use out back — they just had to turn on the gas and push the ignition button with the lid still closed.
The neighbor guests, including the police officer, headed out to the back as Little Johnny returned through the front door. Little Johnny’s father hurried to him and said, “Whew, that was close! That man’s a police officer, and he almost saw the fireworks. Did you hide them real well?”
Little Johnny said, “Oh, yeah, I hid them in the grill!”
Now THAT is a funny Little Johnny joke but, once again, not real (like Russell Huekler). And speaking of not real, ranking right-on up there with our dads taking us down to the edge of the river, pointing across and telling us the other side was “Europe,” Micky Carroll’s dad fooled us every Fourth of July in our young, stupid days.
We would get all excited. Micky’s dad was gonna put on a show for us and, the real kicker, we didn’t have to push our way through any crowds to see the town’s fireworks.
Just as it got to be dusk, we would beg him, “Can we do them now? Can we? Can we? Huh?” He would always quietly settle us down and say, “Soon, very soon! We can’t use them until it’s really dark!” The anticipation would KILL us!
Finally, the time would come. Micky’s dad would tell us to go inside and look out the front porch window. All of us, Gary Hardballs, Dirty Kurty, Micky, Dickie Dickson would squeeze to the window. (Micky never had any idea WHY we had to go inside! But we did.)
And there we all were, ready to go and Micky’s dad would be outside with his ear cups on and all. Then suddenly, THERE IT WAS!!!!!!! “Awesome, oooooh, aaahhhhh, wooooooow!” And then, within a few minutes, it was over. But we were satiated for another year.
In our later years, we found out that what we were soooooo excited about was a single RAILROAD FLARE that Micky’s dad would bring home from work!!!! Yeah, once we found THAT out we felt about as STUPID as a no-armed 18-year-old boy in a 25-cent porn movie booth!!!!
Search at the top by name for all of the post mentiong, Dirty Kurty, Gary Hardballs, Dickie Dickson and Mickey Carroll.
My kid graduated from High School this week. I have been faaaaaar too emtional to write a blog.
OK, not really, I have been busier than SOAPWORD this week so I am re-posting this cuz the “young and free” attitude of the graduates reminded me of the antics of me and my friend.
Dicky Dickson (yeah that was his REAL name and, NO, he did NOT grow-up to become a porn star). When we got bored in our neighborhood Dicky Dickson and I would make up a fake treasure hunt list. We put all kinds of stuff on the list, a coloring book, rag, an old paint brush, deck of cards, a pencil and the ultimate item………… A CAN OF BEER!!!
Then we would go around the neighborhood in a very “Eddy Haskell way,” hand the list to the neighbors (mostly the older ones) and say, “Excuse me Mrs. __________, we are on a treasure hunt and we are trying to find these items. Can you please help?”
YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY PEOPLE WOULD GIVE US A CAN OF BEER!!!!!! Especially the misters of the houses. They would do anything to get rid of us so that they could go back to taking their nap or watchin’ their Bonanza reruns.
By the way, we always put peppermint patties or some kind of mint thing on our treasure hunt list so that we would have something to cover our beer breath.
The plan was GENIOUS on Dicky’s part. Of course, we had to make sure that we didn’t’ drink all the beer and go home SLOSHED or puke! If we had any extra cans from our hunt, we would hide them in an old box of baseball cards. That was the same place we would hide the old Playboy mags that we would steal from our friend Dirty Kurty’s dad’s sock drawer. Funny side note, Dicky’s parents and mine would ALWAYS buy us new packs of baseball cards cuz they thought we were REALLY into them given how often we had that box with us!!!!
So that REALLY happened. Here’s a Little Johnny story that DIDN’T happen:
Little Mary is sitting in class and she starts bleeding. She whispers her problem to the teacher who tells her not to worry too much, just go home to her mother, and explain what happened.
On her way home she meets Little Johnny who has been cutting school.
Little Johnny asks Little Mary, “Where are you going?”
“I’m going home because I’m bleeding,” says Little Mary.
“Where ya bleeding?” asks Little Johnny.
So little Mary pulls down her blood soaked panties and shows him.
Little Johnny steps back in horror and says, “Why did they cut your wiener off!?”
Yep, it’s a funny joke. But it ain’t true. There never was a girl named Mary in my class (refer to my previous post about names in Little Johnny jokes). Second, in my kid-life, at the site of ANY kind of blood, I pretty much got sick to my stomach and put my head between my legs so I wouldn’t pass out. I’d turn as white as milk-toast just gettin’ my teeth drilled at the dentist. If I would have seen Mary bleeding, I would have more than likely fallen limp to the ground, out cold, pale as a corpse!!
Dicky Dickson might have actually done something like this though. By the time we got to high school, Dicky had a scheme where he would go around passing out business cards to all the girls that said, “Dick Dickson, Freelance Gynecologist.” Dicky was way before his time. He’s yesterday’s version of “The Situation.”
By the way, I kind of lost track of Dicky Dickson over the years. While I know he didn’t become a porn star, I wouldn’t put hit past him that he’s the guy in this picture looking to do breast exams.
Ok.. I gotta go. The wife’s not home. I gotta go find my baseball card box (if ya know what I mean)!
By the way, this Little Johnny Joke came from Unwind.com.
So I’m at the gym. Ya see, I am not tall enough for my weight so I go to the gym to narrow the difference.
Actually, I like to eat so I go to the gym to give me some wiggle room for when I go get some bar food and beers with Pauly Causik, Gary Hardballs, Dirty Kurty and Dicky Dickson at a place we call “The Nail.”
Anyway, I’m a shower kind of guy. I NEVER take a baths. I find the act of bathing more stomach curdling than the Dirty Kurty “poop plug” issue (click here if ya don’t know it). I don’t take baths cuz I have absolutely NO interest in washing my face with “butt water” (water that that my butt is soaking in).
So imagine my dismay when I was sitting in the gym’s hot tub, WITH SWIM TRUNKS ON, and one of the HARRIEST MALE BEASTS, approached AND ENTERED the hot tub NAKED. YEP, you got it no kind of hairnet harness, at all, for those pube hairs!! So there I was, relaxing in the hot tub salts. Not even the visions of Mrs. Little Johnny on Valentine’s Day gets the vision of one of those Chewbacca hairs floating up to me outta my head!
So I quickly exit the hot tub before one of his floating pubes can make contact with me. Time to shower and get on with stuffin’ my face with cold beers and cheese sticks! When I get to the shower, I see this:
Yep, you got it! Its curly black hairs on the top of the squirty soap!!! SQUIRTY SOAP!!!
Are ya kiddin’ me? Squirty soap was the best invention EVER cuz it meant, from that point on, Ya NEVER AGAIN, had to pick up bar soap with two fingers cuz there was dried pube hairs pressed into it! I’m actually gagging as …(hold on a minute while I choke a lump back)… anyway, I am gagging as I write this and look at that picture.
Ok, so speaking of taking baths, there is this story out there about me seeing my mom take a bath:
Little Johnny’s mother is taking a bath. She had recently been discharged from hospital where she had all of her pubic hair removed.
Johnny comes into the bathroom as she’s drying off, and asks her what happened to the hair. “I’ve lost my sponge,” she says, and sends Johnny to play.
A few moments later, Johnny reappears and tells his mother he thinks he’s found her sponge, “Oh, really,” his mum asks. “Where is it?” Johnny answers, “The lady next door is washing daddy’s face with it.”
I never saw my mom naked and my dad would have NEVER been with lady next door (see previous story about the CRANKY lady next door).
However, when I was little and we went to public pools to swim while my dad was working, guess where my mom took me to change… THE WOMEN’S LOCKER ROOM!!!! YAAAAHoooo! Well, it WOULD be Yaaaaaahooo if I could just remember all that “SOAPWORD” I saw when I was little!!!
Ok, so my mom realized it was time to start sending me to the Men’s Locker Room when I started pointing and giggling at the ladies’ “boobies” and asking about the pubic hair on the ladies in the locker room. THAT’S when she told me “that’s the lady’s SPONGE.”
To this day, I still twitch when my hot neighbor says she likes to clean her floors the “old fashioned way, ON HER HANDS AND KNEES WITH HER BUCKET AND SPONGE!!”
Yeah, WAAAAAY better visions than “visions of sugar plums dancing.”
As a matter of fact, THAT’S what I’m gonna picture the next time I see Chewbacca in the hot tub. But I STILL ain’t getting’ in it unless he has a ball-hair-net on!!!
(gotta go – swallow-um, another lump in my throat)
Little Johnny Joke This Week Credited to : FHM On-Line
I’m sorry but this week’s posting is of a FECAL MATTER! But I am curious to know if you’re one of those that’s able to take care of ol’ body function “Number 2” at yer work place? I CANNOT!!! I can’t stand POTENTIALLY being identified as the person that left the restroom smellin’ worse then a Snookie gynecology appointment.
Due to my raging restroom paranoia, I came up with a plan for emergency bowel issues while at work: a secret set of “poop shoes” — a “special” pair of shoes that you smuggle into the bathroom and use for those times when ya just can wiggle yer leg or squeeze yer butt cheeks any tighter.
Think of it, the last time when you went to a bathroom, ladies or guys, and you smelled an AWFUL stench. You looked around at the stalls trying to figure out if someone was unloading or if the FBI had just found Jimmy Hoffa in stall #3! And you saw their shoes AND RECOGINZED WHO in the workplace needed to eat some “SOAPWORD” potpourri.
With the “poop shoes” nobody will know it’s YOU in the stall! Simply smuggle the pair of “poop shoes” into the bathroom when nature calls. Quickly slip on the “poop shoes” before you sit down then let ‘er rip! When someone comes into the restroom and hears ya writhing in pain or your bellowing “gas echo” and looks under the stall to see “who dat?” they will see your “poop shoes.” (HINT: this doesn’t work if you wear one-of-a-kind argyle socks.)
When the mission is complete, you simply exit the stall while the restroom is empty – put on your REAL shoes and smuggle your “poop shoes” back to your office or cubicle. GENIOUS!!!
But then again, people should just mind their own business, I guess. There’s a joke where I supposedly told a guy to mind his business.
Little Johnny was sitting on a park bench munching on one candy bar after another. After the sixth one a man on the bench across from him said, “Son, you know eating all that candy isn’t good for you. It will give you acne, rot your teeth, make you fat.”
Little Johnny replied, “My grandfather lived to be 107 years old.”
The man asked, “Did your grandfather eat 6 candy bars at a time?”
Little Johnny answered, “No, got that old by minding his own SOAPWORD business!”
My grandfather DID NOT live to be 107!!! He did live to be old though and I don’t remember even ONE DAY when he minded his own business. He told EVERYONE exactly what he thought – no matter WHO they were or WHERE they were. Being retired, he used to go to WalMart, put one of their full-length mirrors in a cart, and casually push it around the store for the day. When he saw someone like this guy, he would IMPOLITELY suggest that the guy purchase the mirror and then proceed to itemize why in Joan Rivers style.
On another note, about the candy bars, one day in about the 7th grade (ya know, the stage in life when poopin’ and makin’ it STINK was a funny thing) Dicky Dickson and Durty Kurty were in side-by-side stalls of the school LAVATORY. Dirty Kurty had just eaten 10 Mallow Cups for breakfast and was sounding like a dozen of 18-wheelers comin’ down a 45-degree hill with their jake brakes! It was soooooo bad that I remember our Sister Beechaknuckle running out of her class room, which was next to the boys room telling everyone to get under a doorway cuz her seismograph activated!
Dicky Dickson had a dangler that he couldn’t pinch and Durty Kurty waited him out but REFUSED to do a “courtesy flush.” It ended up that both of them missed their next class, going to the school nurse thinking that they both had gotten Polio. Ya see, they had sat on the toilet and dangled their legs for soooooooo long their legs fell asleep. Ya shoulda seen them dragging themselves to the nurse’s office!!!!
Ok…until next week. (Click here to see the rule on “wipe before you type” in the BR)