Monkeys & Chickens & Dogs… Oh My! For some reason the last several episodes of Brett and the City, just by coincidence, have been about my crazy ordeals with animals. Keeping in line with the same theme, I’d figure I might as well close out with my infamous PETA story that so many of you have asked about.
Exactly last year this time, my then girlfriend Kimberly and I decided to take a road trip to go visit her family. Because both of her parents just happened to be born around Halloween, every year it was the Baginski family tradition for everyone to spend the weekend before together. Since this year they were gathering at her sister’s place up in Boston; Kim thought it would be a great idea if I came along as well to finally meet everyone. Meeting a girl’s parents was sort of a really huge deal for me. Mainly because I had actually developed somewhat of a phobia, as a result of the traumatic event that happened the last time. One day in the 11th grade, Tamika Hopson invited me over to her house to meet her folks before prom. The moment I walked in, I was beyond floored when I discovered that Tamika’s father just happened to be the cashier from The Velvet Touch; a little adult video store I used to frequent every Monday, Wed, and Friday after band practice. Boy was I sure not expecting to see him when I walked in. Especially seeing how I was still two weeks past due bringing back the title Busty Black Bitches who go Down Volume 32. And to make matters even worse, he’d been calling my house all that week looking for it. It sure as hell made for an awkward dinner conversation with the amount of evil glares coming from across the table. Honestly, with the exception of that time I wrote that long letter to management complaining about his stupid new “3 hour browsing limit”, I thought old Gus and I were better than that. In fact I was so intimidated to see him again, that as soon as I left I circled the block, snuck back up to the house, and slipped the tape through their mail slot along with an IOU for the $37.50 in late charges.
So naturally it goes with out saying that this time around I was extremely nervous. There was simply no hiding the fact I really liked this girl, and I figured if things worked out well this weekend who knows; maybe she’ll even see that I am “the one” too. After a four hour drive, we finally arrived at her sister’s place. By the time we got there the entire family was already at the house; and from the looks of things, a few of the adults were already dressed to take the kids out trick or treating. One by one Kim began introducing me to her family. Her big sister Meg was dressed as Minnie Mouse, her brother in law Joseph had on a funny Michael Jackson wig, and her mom was even dressed up too as a bumble bee. I thought, “Wow, what a lovely family.” Finally when we got to her grandmother, I took one look at her enormous silver bouffant wig, super large frames, and her bedazzled little sweat suit and shouted “OMG the grandmother from The Nanny! How hilarious! Your outfit is even more ridiculous than hers!” All of a sudden the entire room went stone silent. At the same time her grandmother’s face turned candy apple red.
I quickly gathered from the look of sheer horror on everyone’s faces that I obviously had just said something wrong. After almost a minute of sheer silence, Kim painfully remarked “Uh… Brett this is my grandmother Tessa, and she’s actually not wearing a costume.” I immediately thought “Oh f*ck!” I couldn’t believe I had made such a stupid mistake. With everyone’s eyes still on me, attempting to save face, I quickly laughed it off and yelled “Psyche! I knew that wasn’t a costume the whole time Grandma Tessa! I just thought I’d pull your leg.” Suddenly everyone in the room gasped again even louder. I thought, “Shit, what did I say now?” Suddenly to my surprise, after shooting me one fierce look, Grandma Tessa turned around and began limping out of the room. Just then Kim added, “And she also lost her leg a few years back due to diabetes. She’s still pretty sensitive about it.” I thought, “WTF Brett? You’re not even here for five minutes and you’ve already put your sneaker in your mouth twice. So far this day couldn’t go any more horribly.
Attempting to ease the tension, Kimberly’s brother in law Joseph invited me over to the sofa for a much needed glass of scotch. Before he could even pour himself a shot, I had already downed the glass and was ready for the next; anything to calm my nerves. Their apartment was a cute little New England style flat with just two bedrooms and a small bathroom off of the living room area. The place seemed even smaller with all of Kim’s family members all around. I thought to myself, “Man…I thought New York apartments were small.” Kim’s sister Meg finally came over and joined us on the sofa, followed by their little five year old daughter Taylor and their English bulldog Rupert. It was somewhat difficult for me to focus on the conversation because for some strange reason, their dog just would not stop licking on me. He licked everywhere on me from my hands to my face, and whenever I’d push him away he’d just come right back and start licking again. At that point Kim’s niece Taylor, as only a child could, shouted “See…at least someone in the family likes you!” I guess it’s true what they say, “From the mouth of babes”.
Eventually realizing that all of the licking was getting a bit out of hand, Joseph finally put the dog away. However every time he’d try to close Rupert off in another room, without fail, seconds later he’d manage to break away and the next thing you know he was right back licking me again. Somewhat embarrassed, Kim’s sister remarked “Hmnh, that’s strange. I’ve never seen him carry on like this. You must be wearing something he likes?” Shrugging my shoulders I replied, “Just my normal lotion. It does have coconut oil in it.” to which she replied, “Maybe dogs likes coconut. Go figure?” With exception of a few evil stares from Grandma Tessa, the rest of the day pretty much went without a hitch. By the time I woke up the next morning, I realized that the entire family was already sitting round the dining room table having bagels. I couldn’t believe Kim had let me sleep in so long. After delivering my morning salutations to everyone, I turned and said a special hello to Grandma Tessa; who in return just gave me the finger up and hobbled back out the room. I thought, “This one’s definitely gonna be a hard sell.”
Upon my request, Kim’s mother gave me a towel so that I could grab a quick shower before the day’s festivities. As soon as I walked into the little bathroom, I immediately realized that the lock on the door was broken, and as a result the stupid door wouldn’t stay shut. I kept trying to push it to–to the best of my ability while I was brushing my teeth. However every time I managed to do so; literally two seconds later Rupert would push his way in, followed by little five year old Taylor. So far the morning was already off to a rather annoying start. Kim’s brother in law was finally nice enough to pull Rupert away so that I could begin my shower in piece. I thought, “About f*cking time!”
With everyone still around the table talking, I hopped in the tub and began my shower. Apparently Joe must’ve gotten busy, because just as I was beginning to lather up, minutes later I felt the cold air from the door bursting open and seconds later Rupert’s big meat head was sticking through the shower curtain looking at me. I thought, “Dammit this dog will not let me be!” I literally wiped out twice in the tub trying to shoe the dog out, and at the same time push the door back closed with my foot. And every single time, he’d just come right back in. Realizing that the only way I was going to be able to finish my shower with the door closed was just to let him stay in there with me, I reached out my leg and pushed the door to again with my foot. “Finally I can finish my damn shower.” I thought.
As soon as I stepped out of the tub, as anticipated, old Rupert was waiting for me. He immediately started in on me with the licking again. It was almost nearly impossible to dry off and lotion up, and fight Rupert’s advances off at the same time. A couple of times he even got a taste of my Johnson, and words can’t believe to describe actually how weird that felt. In all the commotion, I accidentally knocked my cell phone off the edge of the toilet. As soon as it hit the ground the back flew one way and the battery went another. I thought, “Dammit, I just got this phone.” With no choice I immediately bent over to try to pick up the pieces that had bounced in back of the toilet, meanwhile still fighting with Rupert all the while. Next, the absolute unbelievable happened. As I was bending over the toilet to search for my battery, my towel slipped down exposing my ass. Then as if on cue; Rupert to my astonishment, darts over and starts licking the crack of my ass. Believe it or not, but suddenly…in that exact moment, little Taylor just happened to come barging through the door looking for Rupert. She took one look at me bent over the toilet and Rupert licking the crack of my naked ass and let out a loud scream. Startled, I whipped around to see what was going on, only to discover the bathroom door swung wide open, and Kim’s entire family sitting around the dining room table looking Rupert and I with their mouth’s hung wide open. I think it’s safe to say that was pretty much the end of the trip from that point on.
Kim and I drove all the way back to New York in complete silence, and from the time she dropped me off we actually never spoke again. About three weeks later, I just happened to be going through my mail and discovered a letter from PETA addressed to me. I thought, “What’s this? They must be asking for money.” I opened the letter and to my astonishment read that due to a “reported event” from one “Tessa Baginski”; PETA was now pressing charges on me for sexually molesting and having oral sex with a canine. I thought, “That old peg legged bitch!”
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Instead of my normal Monday post about some no doubt horribly embarrassing thing that happened to me this week, I thought I’d try something a little different. One of the publications that Brett and the City is syndicated through decided to feature me in my very first magazine interview, which I am ooberly excited about. So in lieu of my normal Brett and the city posting, please enjoy!!!
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Every Friday at noon I have a standing appointment to see my therapist, but this past Friday was way more difficult than most. This past Friday was the anniversary of the day my mama killed my monkey.
Although no one would ever guess now; when I was a child, I was actually clinically diagnosed as being developmentally retarded. I even had to wear a special helmet until I was ten. Because of my severe learning disability, when I was seven years old my doctors assigned me my very own specially trained monkey. Yep, some people have guide dogs; I had what they called a “guide monkey”. The philosophy was that, since monkeys are naturally so much more smarter than retarded kids; they figured that by mimicking the monkey on a daily basis, they could help us with our basic cognitive skills. It was an extremely revolutionary program at the time. For the life of me, I don’t know why it didn’t catch on. My little monkey’s name was Bobo, and he was the best damn monkey any mentally disabled kid could ever ask for. In no time at all, Bobo and I became fast best friends. My grandmother even made us both little matching outfits for every day of the week. We did everything together too. We played together; ate together; bathed together; and at night we even prayed together. Bobo had the best little sense of humor too. I remember he used to do this little thing where he would pee in the bed, and then blame it on me in the morning; and we would just fall on our backs laughing at that for hours. With the exception of that big knock down drag out fight we once got into, over which Power Ranger could kick Superman’s ass; it was literally the happiest time of my life. That is, until the day my mother went and ended it all.
Truthfully, my mother and Bobo never really got a long all that well. If you ask me, she was always just really jealous of what we had. As a result she would always try to keep Bobo locked in his cage, complaining he was “unruly”. I will admit that Bobo could be a bit rambunctious at times, but he really didn’t mean anything by it. That was just his way. Unfortunately Bobo really didn’t help matters at all. He knew that Mama didn’t like him, and being the big jokester he was; he would sometimes like to do funny little things just to push her buttons. But just innocent little monkey stuff like; using her toothbrush in the morning, hiding dead mice inside her purse, or turning the water up as hot as it could go when she was in the shower. His favorite thing to do was to wait good until Mama was on her way out the door for work, and then he’d suddenly run up and snatch her keys, and then shove them up his ass and run out the room. Looking back, Mama lost a few good jobs behind that one. But it was all just typical stuff you’d expect with a monkey. What used to really get mama worked up, was when she would be in the kitchen cooking greens. Bobo would hop up on the stove, and then stick his finger in the pot and taste them. And everyone knows you can’t mess with a Black woman’s greens; but certainly that’s still no reason to kill a person.
For the record, I think there are some pets that Black people were just not meant to own. Black folks like pets we can yell at and curse out when we get mad. Take a dog for example. If you yell at a dog, he’s going to stop whatever he’s doing instantly, and run out the room with his tail between his legs. Try that with a cat and he’s going to just look at you like your crazy, then keep on doing whatever he’s doing. Monkeys are the same way. You can yell all you want at a monkey. Not only is he going to keep doing what he’s doing; he may even yell back, and that doesn’t work to well for Black people. Whenever Mama would get mad and yell at Bobo, he would just flip her the bird and then go upstairs and pee in her shoes.
The night of the big incident, Mama was already in a particularly bad mood. As a result I had warned Bobo to just leave Mama alone. But for some reason he was in an extremely silly mood that evening. I remember I was upstairs sleeping in my room, and Mama was down in the kitchen having cocktails with her special friend Aunt Bruce, and that’s when it all happened. Bobo used to have a tendency to like to show off sometimes in front of company. So apparently, he thought it would be really funny to go strutting through the kitchen with Mama’s good house shoes on. And that was when she completely lost it. All of a sudden, I heard Mama scream at the top of her lunges, “Lawd…if you don’t get yo’ little monkey feet out my good house shoes!!!!!”, and then the sound of fighting: pots clanging, pictures falling off the wall, etc. Panicked, I ran down to the kitchen to see what all the commotion was. By then Mama had Bobo off the ground choking him with both hands. I had never seen my mother like that. With tears in my eyes I cried “No…Mama no!!!” Mama’s special friend tried to stop her, but Mama had the strength of a mad woman that night. Bobo tried his best to hang on; but he was no match for Mama. I just remember seeing his little hairy legs flailing about, and his little monkey feet kicking out from under those house shoes. Then all of a sudden they just stopped kicking, and the shoes slowly dropped to the floor. I screamed for Bobo to “Stay away from the light!”, but obviously he didn’t hear me. And that was when I must’ve blacked out.
When I woke up the next day I was in the emergency room. I guess in all the excitement, I accidentally swallowed my tongue. Apparently that’s pretty common with retarded kids. And that was the last I ever saw of Bobo, or Aunt Bruce. Believe it or not, still to this very day I break down crying whenever I see a picture of a little monkey or a pair of pink Isotoner slippers.
This post was for you Bobo. I know you’re somewhere up in heaven right now helping little retarded kids learn.
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Yesterday from out of the blue, I get this surprise email from this girl I knew way back in college. According to the email, she just happened to be in town for some kind of a conference and seeing how she didn’t know anyone else in New York, she asked if I was perhaps free to come down and meet her for dinner. Even though the girl was somewhat on the homelier side back in school, earning the nickname “Squatty Dottie” from all the guys on the floor due to her very boxy low to the ground frame, very similar to that of a spoiler kit on a Dodge Stratus; I actually didn’t mind going down to meet up with her. It wasn’t like I really had anything else to do, and besides everyone knows you get to expense all of your meals whenever you’re your traveling on business. With that said I quickly threw on my clothes and headed over to midtown. Walking down the subway steps, my excitement was already beginning to build merely just thinking of all of the appetizers I was going to order. I thought, “I sure hope they have those little fried macaroni and cheese balls I love so much. If so, I’m ordering at least five orders of those things.” This was going to be better than Christmas.
When I finally arrived at the Midtown Sheraton and saw old Squatty Dottie I couldn’t believe my eyes. She looked absolutely nothing like she did back in school. From the looks of things she had actually thinned out a bit so she didn’t quite look so low to the ground anymore; she had obviously gotten corrective surgery on her lazy eye so when she talked to you it didn’t just kind of go wandering off to the left anymore; and most important, she finally appeared to have gotten that excessive facial hair problem under control. That’s actually how we became friends. Since she lived right across the hall, whenever my mustache trimmer would go on the blitz I’d sometimes go borrow hers. She was actually the first person to introduce me to Magic Shave. Standing there I could hardly believe this was even the same girl. Although she was certainly no Beyonce by anyone’s account; to my surprise she had now managed to at least graduate to the category of “doable”, which for her was a pretty big feat. As she made her way across the lobby I thought “Good for you Squatty. Good for you.”
After a really nice dinner where we both caught up on each other’s lives over the years, she suggested that we go back to her hotel bar for a couple of vodka gimlets. Since we were still on her dollar, in my opinion that was what you’d call a no brainer. After about an hour and several premium vodka cocktails later at $18 bucks a pop, this sort of wirery framed woman with short boyish blonde hair and a grey pant suit came and sat down beside us. The woman had a slight gap in her teeth and spoke in a thick Russian accent. She kind of put you in the mind of a Ukrainian Ellen Degenerous. As it turned out, both women were tax accountants and in town for the same conference. Within minutes we were all laughing and having a good time, while both women took turns charging rounds back up to their rooms. I thought “Hmnh…it’s Sunday night in the city, I’m sitting here in a bar between two marginally attractive women, not to mention enjoying expensive premium cocktails on them. Things could sure be a whole hell of a lot worse.” About twenty minutes later, Ukrainian Ellen mentioned this killer weed she’d just scored from her brother, and suggested we all go back up to her room for a little toke; which for some reason always sounds like a brilliant idea after six cocktails. They both settled up at the bar and within seconds we were all on the elevator heading up to the 18th floor.
It was a typical New York hotel room which meant it was slightly bigger than your average walk in closet with a full sized bed stuffed in it. We all took a seat on the edge of the bed while Ukrainian Ellen rolled up a couple of big doobies. Although she used quite a bit more saliva than I probably would’ve preferred, from the looks of things she really knew what she was doing. By the time we were halfway through the first joint, I noticed the mood in the room was now slightly changing. I wasn’t sure if it was the cocktails or the Ukrainian dope, but I noticed that the two women were slowly starting to become way more touchy feely. Every time I’d say something even remotely funny, both of them would rest their hands on my thigh as they burst into laughter. And with each joke the touches seemed to linger longer and longer. I thought, “Wow this is kind of turning me on.” Although they certainly weren’t the two most prettiest tulips in the pot; there’s just something about two women fawning all over you that kind of makes a guy feel like Jay Z. I thought, “If I squint my eyes hard enough they could maybe be Beyonce and Rhianna. Or at least their business managers.”
I don’t know how it happened, but some kind of way the entire conversation suddenly shifted to women’s breasts. And after a round of them trading complements back and forth like: “Yours are the perfect size” and “You think so? I’d much rather have yours”, the next thing I knew both oxford tops were off and they were now standing in front of me feeling up each other’s breasts like they were testing out cantaloupes at the farmers market. I couldn’t believe what I was actually witnessing. Despite the fact that they were both dressed like two homicide detectives, I had pitched a tint so high you’d a thought Ringling Brothers Circus was about to do a show inside my pants. Then the unbelievable happened. The two women started tonguing each other down right in front of me. I couldn’t believe it. It was like my wildest dream coming true. Although in my dream the two women would be dressed more like members of The Pussy Cat Dolls as opposed to Cagney and Lacey, this was still no doubt every read blooded boy’s fantasy; minus the sensibly cut loafers. As I sat on the edge of the bed watching the two marginally attractive women lez it up, I thought “Wow God, you really had been listening to my prayers. Well…sort of.”
It’s weird because as many times as I imagined and even prayed for this moment in detail; for some crazy reason now that it was here, believe it or not I was beyond petrified. A guy just randomly happening upon two women making out is kind of like the lotto. You fantasize about it your whole entire life, but what are the odds of it actually really happening. My palms were dripping and my heart was racing a mile a minute. It felt as if I had huge bionic butter flies inside my stomach literally doing the Soldier Boy. I thought, “WTF”. Next, Ukrainian Ellen took Squatty Dottie’s hand and gently guided her over to the bed. She then said those famous six words to me that every guy longs to hear, “Are you going to join us?” That was my cue. Finally all of those years of breaking in my grandma’s room and watching her porn collection had led up to this exact moment. It was time to show them what I had learned. But just as I was preparing to jump in, I noticed that something was terribly wrong. The intense rumbling in my stomach just kept on getting worse.
I shrieked and thought “Oh no Brett…not now!” For some stupid reason every since I was a kid, whenever I get really nervous I get a serious case of the bubble guts. I remember way back in my 3rd grade Christmas program when Mrs. Turner made me do that big solo. I was so scared I literally shit my pants; which of course probably wouldn’t have been as bad if I was actually wearing some at the time. We were doing the nativity scene, so all I had on was this little robe. I tried my best to play it off praying hopefully no one else would notice. But when two of the Three Wiseman slipped and fell in it the jig was pretty much up. Determined not to have a repeat of Mrs. Turners Christmas program, I replied “Sure but first would you mind if used your restroom?” As they slid into the bed, I quickly darted into the restroom and bolted the door shut. Something told me this wasn’t going to be pretty.
Now I don’t know if it was my nerves, the weed, or those two orders of chili con queso fries I insisted on ordering as an appetizer; but I had never in my life had to go as bad as I did in that moment. And for some reason it just wouldn’t seem to stop either. I could not believe my f*cking luck. Here I had two naked women in a hotel room going at it so hard I could literally hear the moans through the door; meanwhile here I am stuck on the toilet with a case of the damn bubble guts. At that point I just looked up to the sky and asked, “Wow…God, really?” After a while of being in there, one of the girls eventually yelled out “Brett is everything okay in there?” to which I replied, “Yeah everything’s great! Be right out shortly.” Of course I knew that was a lie but what else was I going to say, “Hey…do you know if by chance there’s a doctor on staff here?” or “Can one of you be a doll and run over to CVS and pick me up a pack of Mylanta?” This was most certainly not how I envisioned the evening going.
Believe it or not I finally finished crapping after about twenty minutes. I had never been so embarrassed before in my entire life. When I finally opened the door, they both were now under the sheet smoking a square. As soon as they saw me, Squatty extended her hand for me to come join them for round two. However, after taking a big twenty minute chili con queso dump, for some reason I just wasn’t feeling all that sexy any more. Not to mention, something told me that once that smell eventually seeped out, it was going to pretty much be a wrap for everybody. I don’t know why those stupid hotels never keep spray in the bathrooms anyway. Attempting to save face, I immediately replied “Sorry ladies…I actually need to go walk my dog.” I don’t even have a dog but it was the only thing I could come up with at the time. Grabbing my jacket, I commented “Please just carry on without me. Maybe we can do it again some time?” I then high tailed it out of the room as fast as I could.
As I did my walk of shame down the long hotel corridor, I could not believe what had just happened. Waiting for the elevator, I finally understood what Jesus was going through when he shouted out “God…why hath thow forsaken me?” Believing in my heart that everything happens for a reason, I immediately took comfort in the thought that it just wasn’t in the cards for me. Then as the elevator finally arrived, just as I was stepping on; suddenly from all the way down the hall I could hear two female voices yelling out “Holy Shit!! What the hell is that smell?!”
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