When we were rafting, the guide let us jump out and float in the 38 degree river if we wanted to. My Dad, along with almost everyone else, wanted to. I tried it, but it was too cold so I got right back in the boat. That meant I was the one pulling people in when they were ready to get back in the boat. I was the one who tried to pull my Dad in. My Dad is about 6 foot, 2 inches, and a big guy - not fat but really muscular and heavy. I had my feet locked under the boat side (as we were instructed) and was leaned back with all my considerable weight and using all of my meager strength, getting nowhere. So one of the guys who was rafting with us, pushed him from the water underneath to help me. He and his friend were from Arkansas and were pretty funny guys. Anyway the following conversation ensued:
Dad: "Who is grabbing my balls?"
AR guy #1: Shifting away from my Dad to another part of the boat, "That's what we call a forklift in Arkansas."
The conversation continued once we were all in the boat.
AR guy #1: "In AR, when you give someone a forklift, it's go time."
Phollower: "Go time? Where do you go from there?"
AR guy #2 (AR guy #1's friend): "WE don't really call it a forklift. He does."
Me: "What is like to be friends with a guy who has his own name for grabbing a stranger's balls?"
So the forklift was a joke for the entire week.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
"What is like to be friends with a guy who has his own name for grabbing a stranger's balls?"
I'm going to guess "constantly on guard"
If my gaydar is at all reliable, I am pretty sure he would have liked it if his balls were grabbed.
Post a Comment