On The Road With Denny D

  When I got to go, I want to go alone. Lets just say, it doesn't always work out that way.   I have a shy Johnny. I call it Johnny because it's no Johnson. Shy Johnny, would rather tinkle at home but sometimes he has to use the public restroom. The problem with public restrooms is that they're public. And if you saw the people using them you'd never go in. Public restrooms are like as Forest Gump would s say, a box of chocolate, you never know what your going to get . But sometimes you just got to go. This is why kids shop online. They don't have bladders yelling at them every time they walk into a Walmart. Heck, I can't even look at one book at Chapters before shy Johnny and Billy bowels start talking to me. I think just ignore it and for a little while after doing deep breathing exercises, it works. Suddenly a little voice inside says NOW! When that little voice yells NOW! you kind of have to listen. Before entering the restroom, I have to look over my shoul...

 I don't like talking about my crazy shit stuff. I've spent the better half of sixty years hiding, fearing and shaming. Gee, that sounds like a new Journey song. Na na na na na na na. Anyway and yes I know, you should never start a sentence with anyway but I'm doing it, anyway. Hey! this is all about comedy, errors are expected. Sue me! Anyway ( there, I did it ) I went to see a therapist for a couple reasons. One, to debunk my then wife's' diagnosis. To prove that I wasn't a passive aggressive ass-hole.   Moron? Maybe.  But I'm not an oxymoron, moron. I mean, can you be passive and aggressive at the same time? The second reason was obvious, to rearrange the therapists office, starting with her unused coasters. They were definitely placed haphazardly. Then it happened. She started asking questions. Imagine that, a social worker asking questions. I thought I was there as interior designer not a client. Why did your wife call you passive aggressive? At tha...