Russell Gayer, author speaker
When the sky would blacken with storm clouds and the sound of thunder shook the very ground we stood on, my father was fond of saying, “Looks like it’s fixin’ to come a turd-floater. You boys better get inside before you wash away.”
This only gave credence to the ugly rumor that my ancestors floated to the Ozark Hills from Indiana in one such rainstorm a hundred and seventy years ago. Good thing we’re a buoyant people.
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“I thought you said you had a ski boat?”
“I do.”
“But that’s a canoe. You can’t pull a skier with that.”
“Sure you can. The rower just needs the right motivation.”
“And how do you accomplish that?”
“If my wife is paddling, I attach a couple of Cottonmouths to the stern on four-foot leashes. She’s been clocked at forty miles per hour.”
“What if she won’t go?”
“Then I fill Junior up on sweet potatoes, boiled eggs, and beans and have him push the boat. Ski to the left or right. You’ll want to stay clear of the exhaust.”
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It’s been a while since I’ve given you a dose of good, juvenile humor. Read twice and comment in the morning.
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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I know I should say : “Really Russell. I expected more from a grown up bouyant man like you”…but LOL !
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You’ve read me long enough to have lower expectations by now.
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Dear Charlie Weaver-Gayer,
The Cottonmouths would certainly do it for me. I somehow picture Connie wrapping one of those little poisonous ropes around your neck when she catches you. (I’m in her cheering section). I’m not sure I even want to address fragrant Junior. I willing to bet you kept a whoopee cushion in your desk in grade school. You do make me laugh but I’ll pass on the skiing and stick to swimming.
Shalom-glug,
Esther WWF
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Dear Esther,
While I did not have a whoopee cushion in school, my daughter did get me a remote control fart machine for my birthday a few years back. This wonderful device had a range of 20 feet and featured an adhesive back that would stick to the underside of most chairs. What fun I had with my co-workers! The expression on their faces was priceless–especially when I had a large crowd gathered for the occasion. And best of all–it was odor free. Those were the days . . .
Want some beans?
~ Charlie
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You might find it amusing to check what fartt means in Swedish.. Very amusing except for having those cottonmouths in your back…
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I’ll have to look that up. I’m surprised she didn’t go faster than 40 will Cottonmouths at her back. I’m going to have to start feeding her something besides oatmeal.
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Russell,
There is nothing you can write about that is more descriptive than this piece. Poor Connie. And to think, she had a choice when marrying you, ha. (think she made a good choice). I really loved reading Rochelle’s and Bjorn’s comments. They just added to your story. Loved it.
Mike
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I married way over my head, that’s for sure. That poor woman has put up with a lot.
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Dear Cousin – there just can’t be two clans as alike as us and not be kinfolk somewhere in the backlog of our minds! I have laughed and laughed and I wouldn’t want to ski behind your boat ever! Mike read your story first and busted a gut laughing! Well, CUZ’ from the State of Kansas that has an AR in front of me but I was born there too!. Tell Connie Hi for us – thanks! Nan
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Thanks, Nan. I don’t think crude, juvenile humor is an acquired taste, it’s something you’re born with.
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Half-hearted, as we say in Scotland.
(Read it aloud with the appropriate accent.)
Not sure what the question is, but the answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind…
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Sounds great when read aloud with the appropriate accent. I’m trying to stay upwind.
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You’ve done it again, Russell. This piece was hilarious. I feel a little sorry for your wife though, but she must have a great sense of humor. Your daughter must share your sense of humor. She knew just what to get you as a present. 😀 — Suzanne
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Yes, my wife is very tolerate, full of grace and mercy. And my daughter knows just what to get dear old dad to make his birthdays happy ones.
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Isn’t it amazing what people do for love? Your poor wife must love you a lot. Apart from that, I’m a bit sorry for the cottonmouths, poisoned by organic exhaust… Great fun.
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I don’t tie them on when Junior’s pushing the boat. That would be cruel and unusual punishment even for a poisonous snake.
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Ha 🙂
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I wonder why they don’t have one of these emoticons holding it’s nose?
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This one made me laugh out loud, inspite of wondering why your dear wife hasn’t drowned you, yet.
Nicely done.
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Don’t give her any ideas, Shelia. 🙂
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I’m sure she’s had the thought already. LOL
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You kill me, Russell! “Looks like it’s fixin’ to come a turd-floater?” Where do you come up with this stuff!
Remind me not to go water skiing with your lot…
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And I was just fixin’ to ask if I could borrow a couple Cottonmouths from you.
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Ummmm..don’t recall ever seeing any in the Montreal-area!
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I’ll have to ship you a couple then.
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Laughed out loud Russ. Thank you for a great story and for reminding me of my father whose sense of humour you share. Keeping away from the beans…
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Sounds like we were both blessed to have a father with a sense of humor.
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Ha. Fragrant Junior. I’m steering clear of this boat! Very funny and delightfully smelly story, Russell. Made me smile.
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You definitely want to stay up wind from Junior. He’s a hoot.
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That was a real gas, Russell.
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I’m thinking testing Smell-a-blog for WordPress. What do think?
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I’ll check in on the post that smells like fresh baked cookies. I’ll leave the fart posts for you and your guy-pals.
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perfect ending. 🙂
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Thanks. It had to stop somewhere.
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Yes, it’s juvenile, but funny. Those cottonheads or whatever they are would have me rowing at warp speed! I’d rather be behind the farting guy any time.
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Actually, I would too. I don’t even like rubber snakes.
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Oh, Russ, this is a classic. And while I tried to channel you this week (colorful fatherly expressions), I wasn’t nearly as successful.
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I’ll have to check that out.
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How wonderfully graphic. Especially junior. 🙂
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Yes, maybe I should gave the readers a “graphic” warning up front. Oh, well . . .
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Hilarious. I’ll never paddle my kayak again without remembering this one.
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Why paddle? Load up on beans and broccoli.
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Multitasking: shaking my head and laughing. Canoe do that?
janet
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No, but I can bend over and cough. Just ask the doctor.
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No comment. 🙂
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eventually it is the wind that does the trick, no?
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exactly. 🙂
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You’re the real stinker!
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Flattery will get you everywhere.
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I have all sorts of horrible images of the ‘wake’ that Jnr might produce…
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Let’s hope he doesn’t deplete the oxygen and kill the fish.
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