“May 1983,” written in English Class, 11th grade

The hysteria for George Lucas’ 3rd installment of his Star Wars epic was to hit screens on Friday May 25th. Many days passed as I joyfully played with my Star Wars action figures, as if Lucas was Santa and watching my every move. Figures were spread all over the floor of my rec room where many galactic battles took place. I begged my older sister to play, after all, I needed a Princess Leia. It was a time when she actually came in handy, but a little brother would have done a better job at playing with action figures.
After waiting anxiously, Friday finally came. “We’re going to see Return of the Jedi!!” my dad announced to me with great enthusiasm. He seemed just as excited as I was. Before jumping around uncontrollably like Mr. Peepers, I froze for a second, puzzled. Did he mean that we were going to see the real thing and go up in a space ship and watch the rebellion get revenge over the dark forces of the evil Empire? I was perplexed. I actually wasn’t sure what was going to happen. You see, this was the first Star Wars film I would be experiencing in the theater.
When we pulled up at the old Menlo Park General Cinema, it all came together. As we walked through the glass doors, I was immediately consumed at the sight of the huge, lush lobby complete with video games and adorned with posters. The aroma of popcorn filled the air and invaded my nostrils. Naturally, it was imperative what came next, “Mommy, I want popcorn!” My dad bought the tickets and as we slowly made our way to the theater I took in every last detail of my surroundings.

My sister held my tiny hand and directed me to look at the Return of the Jedi poster on the wall. I became mesmerized. It was a beautiful collage with Luke Skywalker looking heroic, grasping his trusty lightsaber, Han Solo pointing his blaster at me, the beautiful Princess Leia, cuddly Ewoks, and lurking in the background, the sinister Darth Vader. Just as any other normal kid at the time, I was petrified of the Dark Lord of the Sith. The bottom of the poster, sealed in silver, read RETURN OF THE JEDI.
We made our way through the doors and down the aisle of the theater. It was very dark except for the glow of the previews which projected onto the enormous screen. I didn’t care what was on the screen, it was all a blur. I was in awe of the cavernous room filled with what looked to be a thousand seats. There were so many people, it was packed to the rafters. I stood in the aisle staring upward, mouth open, marveling at how high the ceiling was. Finally, I focused on the screen and remembered what I wanted to do. I jetted in light speed to the front row. The entire row was empty and thinking I hit the jackpot, I plopped myself down in the center seat. With popcorn in lap and feet crossed dangling off the seat, I was ready, but I realized I was missing something. MY FAMILY was a few rows back filing into a patch of 4 seats. My sister must’ve alerted my parents to the fact that I was nowhere to be found. As I looked back I saw my dad waving me back to sit with them. In classic stubborn child mode, I swung my head back and forth in an “absolutely not” fashion. They realized that I would not be giving up my seat.
I won out and my parents and my sister left their seats and sat with me in the first row. That wouldn’t have flown in any other instance, but since it was Return of the Jedi and they were there so I could see the movie, they gave in. Within minutes, the screen went black and John Williams’ score blasted like an ion cannon throughout the theater while the scroll brought us up to speed. Episode VI: Return of the Jedi:

This experience left a lasting impression on me because it made me a lifelong Star Wars fan, and it began my obsession with movies. At that point in time, going to the movies was still a big deal. Sure there are “event” movies, but not many of them can come close to the magic that the original Star Wars trilogy brought to the screen. More and more younger kids are becoming Star Wars fans and I’m lucky to be able to tell them that I saw my favorite installment of the trilogy in its original theatrical release.

Kicking Ass with Vintage Glass

After reading some random posts here at The Sexy Armpit, my boss grew concerned about my mental health. I informed him that I was absolutely fine and in my right mind. I assured him that my often inane compositions were no indication of my prowess as his employee. “Don’t worry, ALL guys in their late 20’s are obsessed with Lori Loughlin, Janine Melnitz, and Clamp Champ.” He didn’t buy my testimony.

The next day a copy of the latest issue of Men’s Health magazine was on my desk when I got to work. My bosses little secret mission to cure my crazy failed! It only got me more fired up! My rage blew steam out of my ears as I thumbed over to an article under the column “MALEGRAMS: GUY LIST 18 Things a Grown Man Should Never Have.” Here’s a list with only one entry…One thing a men’s magazine should never do: INSULT THEIR AUDIENCE. I guess they overlooked the fact that a huge percentage of their readership comes from the behemothic amount of males in this country who collect vintage glasses. F–K YOU MEN’S HEALTH! THE SEXY ARMPIT SAYS SUCK IT!
Hamburglar glasses have made millions of mouths happy, including mine. Think back to when you were a kid and you were at your friend’s house and you got to choose which glass you wanted to drink your Kool-Aid out of, He-Man or Return of the Jedi. Tough choice, but those were the types of decisions I took pride in making as a child. That was alot more fun than home improvements, car repairs, doctors appointments, etc. My collection of vintage glasses and mugs include everything from Super Heroes to The Flintstones and ALL of them bring back memories for me. Do you have a favorite glass or mug? Do you think just because you’re older you need to part with it? Is a glass like a woobie? Should Men’s Health be deciding what kind of crap we keep on our bedroom shelves?

Bathrooms Rock

Lately when I sit on the toilet and take a crap, I am overwhelmed by a sense of appreciation for modern plumbing and bathrooms. Recently I was on the NJ transit train heading toward NY Penn Station. I had to pee really bad. I forgot that there was a bathroom on the train so I took the chance.

Even though if I would have peed myself it wouldnt have mattered cause it looked like a lot of the people on the train had done the same thing. Suddenly, my nostrils were struck by the foulest odor. It was impervious. I could not handle the odor. My mission was to urinate as fast as possible while trying not to inhale the mixture of all the previous visitors shit/fart/piss/puke smells. I peed while holding my shirt over my nose and avoiding making eye contact with all of the stuff that missed the aluminum bowl. I got more nauseated as my liquid fell into some sort of brownish orange goo that resided there. My regurgitation was really close to joining the rest of the crew to hang out. Luckily i was finished. I got the hell out of there.

It’s always funny when you come out of public bathroom and you think that the next person that goes in there is gonna think that YOU made the stench, or the mess. Not true. Always give them the benefit of the doubt. An example is the bathrooms at college. In between English classes I have to take leaks. I look down past my junk to the urinal and see on the sides of the bowl part – long ass pubes. WHO THE HELL are these morons whose pubes fall off and decide to perch themselves on the bowl of the urinal. Mind you that they dont fall in the water, its the part above it, like the ledge. Most important – we are in a technologically advanced 21st century…why do guys have huge bushes? Guys shouldnt have pubes that are as long as my middle finger. That is fucking disgusting. Shave your fucking bush down you fucking psychos. And stop yanking your pubes while using the urinal.

Finally, modern day bathrooms RULE. They are amazing. They are the “shit.” We don’t realize how good we have it. Ever use a Johnny on the spot? Or a Portosan? It’s like the outhouses people had in the old days. There was odors, flies, and other people’s excrement. Let’s be thankful that we can shit in a peaceful, nurturing environment. We even have spray to wipe out the odors. It’s grand.

So, it’s all good. Thank God for modern bathrooms, cause without them I wouldnt be able to laugh so much when my shit is too big to flush down the shoot. It acts like its holding on for dear life, fighting the supreme suction. It just does not want to get devoured by the abyss. I don’t blame the shit. The shit finally gets out into the open and then gets sucked away. Shit doesnt have a very long life. It’s kinda like Boba Fett and the great Pit of Carkoon from Return of the Jedi.