Jan 16, 2008

The Consummate Trickster

When I was a kid, all I had was a pet potato and I really wanted a big one, just like this one. (It's huge, huh? That's my boot, size 7 mens, that's how big this bad boy is)

True story but it came as a gift from my Dad, Micky O'Dwyer, The Consummate Trickster. I get this Habit/DNA from my Dad;

On a cold winter, D.C. day, way back in 1974, my Dad waltzed in with a huge box, wrapped finely, with a big red ribbon and bow. The box was so big he could hardly get it in the front door. He placed it, prominently, at the front of the Christmas tree.

It was three days before Christmas, when my Step-Mom, Teri, approached me and on the D.L. was inquiring as to it's contents. Yes, it had a tag and was for her. She tried to pick it up and knew whatever it was, it was big. She offered to pay a generous fee, for telling her, it's contents. Damn it all, I didn't know what was in it.

Christmas morn, came late for us as I was older and we'd all stayed up Christmas Eve. Drinking spiked Egg Nog, Teri and I had gone out Caroling, that night. It had to have been the most hideous display of Christmas spirit, if there ever was one.

It was snowy and cold as hell, I do remember that, as we stumbled around our neighborhood, in the suburbs of Arlington, Virginia. Which by the way, our house was 5 doors up from the Nazi Headquarters. There they stood, on guard, at the door. Stoic, at attention with their automatic weapons, they were not amused as we sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Of course, this only fueled our comedy act. We must have looked like the retard version of Girls Gone Wild, as we flashed them, doing our damnedest to get a rise out of them. Nope, they were some hard core skin headed dumbasses, whoops, guards. I was just shy of 16, Teri was about 24? Yep, things were still where they belonged, perky and we knew it, which I recall fondly, as we are now both Grandma's.

My Dad had me open my presents first. I'm sure there was great motive, in this, you know to keep Teri at bay, chomping at the bit, to open this big present. Her turn finally came and she ripped the paper off the box, which revealed the writing, in big red letters, that the contents, were supposedly a console color television.

Standing in front of the box, she opened it, only to reveal, something that was not a console color T.V. She peered in several times and sat down, bewildered. At that point, simply from the look on her face, I got up as well and peered into the box. I looked at my Dad, then at Teri and then back into the box, bewildered, as well. Inside, a lone boulder sat with what looked like poop, amidst some straw. Even, I thought, what the hell? At this point, my Dad, sitting Indian style in his chair, as he always did, smiled and stated, "It's a pet boulder."

Now, back then the Pet Rock
was a hit and everybody was giving and getting one. Chia Pet and stuff like this flooded the market, as well as those commercial spots, we all know and love. Anybody who was anybody had one of those damn things too, you know a pet rock on your desk at work... but a Pet Boulder?

OK, the jig was up and my dad got up and went over and looked in the box too. "Dammit to hell, " he says, all disgusted, "they told me the thing was house trained." He picks it up and starts petting it, telling us that it's very affectionate and a very loving pet. But, "He is a highly trained 'Guard Boulder', you know, not your ordinary pet boulder." He places the boulder on Teri's lap and she looks up at him like he's really insane. She takes a breathe and says, "Micky, I think you've lost your mind," an uncomfortable giggle follows. Dad takes the boulder, places him under the tree and pulls Teri by the hand, "I'm telling you, he was guarding something," and he points into the box. Teri looks in the big box and now sees a ring box amongst the straw, right next to the fake poop. She screams like she's on fire and reaches in. She's not even looked in the ring box and she's hugging my Dad, squeezing him so hard he's grunting for air. Teri finally lets go, sits down and opens the ring box, which holds a beautiful diamond ring.

I missed Mr.Micky O'Dwyer, very much, again, this past Christmas.

I wanted to mail this potato to my Grandson, Lil Bill, all wrapped up but I'll wait a few years, find a bigger potato cause only the very best for my Grandbabies, ya know?


BillyWarhol said...


whatta Rockin' Good Story Grandma!!


Yeah i get more of a Kick outta the Gag Gifts we give our Family every Year!

Glad U got the FineTunez up - there's a lil Trick - to have it Autoplay (if ya want)

How do I enable Autoplay on the embedded player?
A. To enable autoplay, you must add the parameter &autoplay=true to the URL, after your pinst ID#. Thus, the first part of the code for embedding your playlist should look like this:

embed src="http://www.finetune.com/player/FineTuneShell.swf?
pinst=ECFC9EB0CC5B406BABED5575E13D2410&autoplay=true" quality="high"

*Make sure to use the unique pinst ID associated with your playlist. The above code is just an example.

Thass in the FAQ section which is kinda Buried on their Site*


~Babz~ said...

Billy Warhol, I am a prankster, myself and my sons have inherited it as well.
The other day, my one son, who's good at a radio type voice or commercial voice, you might say, well we called his older bro on a 3-Way call. His answering machine came on and my son says, "This is a collect call from Mayville, NY Correctional Facilities from and he hesitiated and I spoke and said, "Barbara." My older son wasn't quite amused because I've been locked up so many times that he was worried but figured it out quickly. He said his heart was pounding for a second though.

Thanks for the pointers on the Auto-Play but I've read more and more, even last nite about people hating when they go on your page and all of a sudden some music stars blaring and they can't find where it's coming from and so on. This guy was really ranting and said "I don't wanna hear your bad taste in music(I just knew he was talking about me, lol)and would never go back to your page because of it. If I want music, I'll listen to my MP3. No, you're not the DJ and your page is not a f*cking jukebox." Oh yea, he was ranting with rage, hahaha!

But it is true and I've gone on, especially MySpace and their shit ass music is playing and it sometimes startles you. But I think to each his own and you don't like it, oh well, right?

BillyWarhol said...

yer Sons sounded like they Graduated from the same Class Clown Skool i did!

Summa Cum Loud!!


I've had the odd Scrape the odd Brush with the Long Arm of the Law meself*

I don't like sleeping in the Drunk Tank with my fellow Wild Indians!!

oh yoy*


Well i like hearing Tunez on people's Blogs - i find it's a really c0ol addition*

+ since I ain't being Paid the Big Bucks like i should be i'll do whatever the Hell i want + if somebody doesn't like it they can Kiss my Sweet Ass!!


Cheers Sweetie! U ROCK!!


~Babz~ said...

Billy Warhol, ya fuckin right, yep I said it!

I'm Lakota and Irish, never give me whiskey cause somebody's ass is gettin scalped and I'm goin straight to jail. I thought I recognized ya, hahaha!

BillyWarhol said...


oh so that was U trying to Bum Smokes off me in the Cell next door!


there's a Huge Natural Cures thing up here in Canada called Lakota*

god i'd love to get that down to the States we could make a Fortune!

at least enuf so that U + i could Drink at the Casino!!


Hey i was thinkin' bout U cuz i did this massive post last night on Robin Trower - amazing Guitar Slinger - check out some o those YouTube links + tell me what ya think*

Peace Out*