A 'lil HooHaa

Messing with the blogging world since 2005

Life With Earl

30-2 Days of Writing/Life with Earl: Whatever, dude (17/28)

Life With Earl is a semi-regular feature on A ‘lil HooHaa. For the back story, click “Earl” at the top of the page to see past stories. This is a shorter version of Earl than I’d normally do… but Earl was in a bit of a rush today.

Oh, Earl.

For those who don’t know Earl, allow me to tell you something about him — he loves donuts. When I say love, I mean full-out, unadulterated, unhealthy love.

There are often times we meet Earl at the local Dunkin’ Donuts to chat about what’s going on in the world.

Sometimes, though, it can be hard to absorb Earl’s obsession with donuts.

See, whenever Earl finds out about something — like when it’s time to make the donuts — he’ll go off into an excited tangent. That usually means one of us — me, Jay or the Big Easy — will be getting a call exclaiming pure excitement about the donut and Earl’s love of said donut.

That’s why the early morning wakeup call both surprised me and didn’t surprise me.

“WOOOOOO WEEEEE P.J.!! THERE”S A NEW DONUT!”

“Hi, Earl. Thanks for waking me up for that news report.”

“THERE’S RED VELVET DONUTS AT THE DUNK! RED VELVET! DID YOU HEAR ME? RED VELVET!!”

“I heard you, Earl. No need to shout. It’s six a.m. on a Sunday for goodness sake.”

“THIS IS AWESOME THOUGH!”

“Earl, calm down. It’s red velvet. You realize it’s a cake with some food coloring, right? And I think that donut has been out for a few months. I thought it left with the holidays?”

“NO WAY DUDE! I JUST SAW THE SIGN IN THE WINDOW! WE NEED TO GO!”

Usually, I’m all about meeting up with Earl. See, Earl is a constant source of entertainment for those who know him. And, well, even for some who don’t know him. And, often when he calls, we’ll all get together and go see Earl because we never know what’s on his mind.

This time wasn’t one of them.

Especially at 6 a.m.

Over a donut that may or may not still be in production. But the sign says different.

I just couldn’t handle Earl at this moment. And I needed to get rid of him and turn the phone on silent. So I did it quick.

“Whatever, dude.”

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To read other stories about Earl, click here.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook!

30 Days of Writing/Life With Earl: Stiletto heels (23/30)

This post is written in conjunction with the 30 Days of Writing, a blog challenge devised by Nicky and Mike at “We Work For Cheese.” I’ll be participating throughout the month of June. If interested, you can see my post with the details of the challenge. 

Please note that some of these posts will be serious, some will be normal, and some will be an attempt at humor.

This post is humor. And if you haven’t read any of Earl before, go to the top of this page and select “Earl” to see previous editions.

It had been a while since we had heard from Earl.

So to get the call out of the blue on a rainy afternoon was a bit shocking, to say the least. Earl usually only gave us a buzz if it was sunny and he was looking for a ride somewhere.

However, I noticed his excitement right away.

“WHOOOOWEEEEE P.J., have you guys seen the ad in the paper?”

Leave it to Earl to be specific in everything he mentions.

“What ad, exactly, are you speaking about, Earl?”

“The one about the dancing girls,” he shouted! “Dancing girls! Some new club! Man oh man! It’s like heaven hitting town! We need to go check this out! I’ll call later!”

With that, Earl hung up.

I picked up the paper and started leafing through the pages, perusing the ads. Sure enough, in the back of the paper was an ad about a new adult establishment not too far from here.

And Earl was planning on going.

For those of you just reading about Earl for the first time, he’s an interesting character. He’s not the best when it comes to social situation and insert a few ladies and he goes ga-ga in a quick rate.

But, he’s Earl.

I phoned Jay and the Big Easy and let them know that Earl had spotted an ad for a new strip club. Though it might not be something we’d always be up for, taking Earl to an adult establishment had merits all on its own.

A few hours later, we’re picking up Earl. And oh was Earl ready.

He came out of his place wearing his best denim shorts and a shirt that says “I’d rather be fishin'” with his trucker-style hat tilted slightly to the right.

Oh, Earl.

He hops in the car and he’s beaming.

“Woooo weeee, boys… the experience of a lifetime, tonight!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting this forever!”

He pulls out a wad of money and flips through it. There had to be at least 50 $1 bills.

We didn’t know Earl had that much money, let alone all in ones.

Soon enough, we pulled into the parking lot. We were barely stopped and Earl was dashing for the door.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Jay asked.

“Why am I here?” The Big Easy asked.

And soon, we followed Earl into the establishment. The lights were low. The music was just what you would expect and the announcers voice echoed through as he announced Milkshake was coming to the stage.

Yes, Milkshake.

And she shook. Oh did she shake. She swung on the pole. She pranced around in her stiletto heels. And Earl’s jaw was basically on the ground as he stared.

Milkshake slowly took off her clothes — what she was wearing, anyway — and Earl never moved. Never. She strolled by him and he still stayed firmly where he was.

I wondered if he had gone into shock.

“Earl? Um… Earl? EARL?” Jay screamed.

Nothing.

As Milkshake picked up her dollar bills and left the stage, Earl came to — for the moment.

“HOLY CRAP!” Earl said, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “That was amazing!”

He ordered a Coke and stayed staring.

This is where things got a little crazy. I realized that we likely weren’t going to be in here for long, knowing Earl, but I wasn’t sure how it would happen.

Jay, the troublemaker, put the ball in motion.

“Earl, you know you can go private with these girls, right?”

“Say what?”

“Private,” Jay explained. “You pay ’em like 25 or 30 bucks and you get a dance in the back. It’s private and quite hot. You might even score.”

“Seriously?” Earl asked. “What am I allowed to do?”

“For 25 or 30 bucks, basically whatever you want,” Jay explained. “Let your hands explore, man, let ’em explore.”

“Yeah, explore, Earl, explore,” The Big Easy echoed.

I just stared down at the floor.

“And how do I get this dance,” Earl asked, almost doubting us.

“The girls will come out and give you a little shimmy out here,” I said. “Then they’ll ask if you want a dance. You say yes, they take you to the back, you pay them, and the fun begins.”

Earl stared. It’s as if he was contemplating.

At that moment, the announcer interrupted the music.

“Hey there guys, look on the stage, it’s Babycake…” he said. “And for your pleasure, Milkshake is coming out to see if you’d like some dances…”

And that’s all it took.

Moments later, Milkshake came out. And we were sitting close to the door, so our table was first. We gave our customary tip and just pointed to Earl, who was in awe. Milkshake sat on his lap and whispered something to him… a dance request no doubt. Earl hopped up, almost knocking Milkshake to the floor. They were off to the back.

“We should probably finish our drinks quickly,” The Big Easy said.

“Yeah, maybe even meet him in the parking lot?” Jay asked.

So, we started walking out of the place. See, we know Earl. And it wasn’t going to take long.

As we were walking down the hallway, we heard a screech from the back rooms. Milkshake, no doubt.

That screech was followed by: “What do you think you’re doing, you dirtbag??”

Moments later, two large guys threw — yes, threw — Earl out of the place. His smile couldn’t have been any bigger.

“That was awesome!” he yelled as he ran over to the car.

We didn’t ask. We didn’t want to know where his roaming hands went. We just let Earl tell us about how Milkshake was totally into him and he knows one day he’ll go back to claim his lady.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I looked over at Jay.

“You know this is your fault, right?”

“Worth every penny,” he said.

I knew Jay was right. But I didn’t want to admit it. I also knew this wouldn’t be the last time Earl found a way to get into a crazy situation. I was hoping it would be, but I knew better.

To read other stories about Earl, click here.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog [at] gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook!

Life with Earl: Dining out

Life With Earl is a semi-regular feature on A ‘lil HooHaa. For the back story, click “Earl” at the top of the page to see past stories. 

It was all set to be an easy night.

After a round of golf, the three of us — myself, Jay and The Big East — were figuring on heading to the next town over and eat. It’s a bigger college town so there are many options. And heck, a night away is the way to go.

Then the phone rang.

“Hey, P.J., whatcha doin’?” screamed the voice from the other end.

Little had I known that Jay has shelled out my phone number to Earl. I had made sure not to give it to that sucker.

And the look on Jay’s face made me realize he know who was on the other line. After shooting Jay a look, I went back to the call.

“Hey Earl … nothing really … why?

“Well, I figgered I’d hitch up to town and hang wit’ you and the boys.”

You can imagine I was a little worried about this.

“Well, Earl, we were actually leaving for College Town to eat.”

Considering Earl didn’t seem to have money too often, we didn’t think he’d want to go.

“Woooo hoooo!” Earl screamed into the phone. “I just made some cash on the course! I’ll come, too!”

We didn’t even have the chance to say no.

Before we knew it, Earl was knocking on the door and when we answered he had a big goofy smile on his face. I had slightly agreed to this only because Jay had handed out my number. If not, I would have found a way to skip out.

The punishment was on Jay, though. He got to share the back seat with Earl, who was dressed in his Sunday best — dirty jeans, a flannel and a hat that said “I go fishin’ cause I can.”

The worst thing happened as soon as we hit College Town. There’s a Hooters, you see, right as you hit the city limits. I think Earl almost jumped out of the car.

“WHOA! Hey guys, a HOOTERS!!” he exclaimed. “Let’s eat there! I ain’t never been to a Hooters before!!”

Jay piped in. “Actually, Earl, we were thinking of going elsewhere tonight.”

“And besides,” The Big Easy piped in. “Once you’ve seen a Hooters girl, you’ve seen them all.”

We seemed to forget that Earl hadn’t seen a Hooters gal before.

“But I wanna eat there!” he shouted. “Hot women, hot women and hot women! Maybe I can get a number or two.”

As soon as he blurted that last sentence out, I jammed the brakes, did a quick U-turn and soon pulled into the Hooters parking lot.

This was too good to not let happen.

The line was long. That didn’t stop Earl.

“Lines is made for cuttin’,” he said.

Sure enough, Earl cut the line. And, somehow, it worked. We were soon seated. The waitress was beautiful and, well, perfect in many ways. Earl noticed.

“Hiya boys. I’m Tiffany and I’ll be your server,” the waitress said. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

We ordered beers, but Earl was speechless. His eyes were focused on one part one body part of Tiffany.

To give him credit, he was at least staring straight ahead.

“And you?” Tiffany asked Earl.

Nothing.

The Big Easy responded by giving Earl a swift kick under the table.

“Uh, I’ll have a Coke.”

Tiffany walked away and Earl’s speechlessness left just as fast.

“This is the greatest day of my life. I can’t believe this,” he said. “That chick was all over me. She was eye …”

“Easy Earl,” Jay interrupted. “No need to get fresh.”

“I can’t handle this,” Earl said as he became flustered and somewhat sweaty. “I need to do something about this.”

Just like that, Earl popped up and took off outside. We could see him taking deep breaths and walking around the parking lot. He came back in and was confronted by a couple more Hooters girl. He then dashed to the bathroom for a few moments and came out, looking refreshed and drying off his face. That big goofy grin had returned, too.

“A little water to the face always wakes me up,” he said.

He then peered at the menu.

“Woooooweeeee, look at these prices,” Earl said. “A feller could go broke in here if he came once too often. But dang, look at all these women!”

Earl’s eyes, again, started to bulge from his head. His jaw seemingly rested on the table.

“Earl, drooling isn’t attractive,” Jay said.

“And I think it’s against health codes, too,” The Big East said.

Tiffany returned to take our order and Earl’s eyes, again, fixated on her upper body. I actually felt bad for this girl. She was only doing her job.

Giving an order to a waiter or waitress is a simple process, at least to those who hit up places to eat sometimes. I ordered a burger and fries, as did Jay and The Big Easy. We also ordered some of Hooters’ famed wings.

Earl was still looking at the menu.

“What do you recommend?”

A slap to the forehead knew I was in for a long night.

“Well, as you can see, we offer pretty much anything you could want in a place like this,” Tiffany said. She seemed to be losing her patience, but was holding it well. “Our burgers are fantastic, the wings are famous. I don’t think you guys came here for a five-star meal.”

Earl didn’t budge.

“Earl, do the lady a favor and order,” The Big Easy said. “I am actually hungry and would like to get the food today.”

Though it was almost painful — as he knew Tiffany would then leave the table — Earl ordered. All that time for a burger and fries.

After Tiffany left, Jay smacked Earl on the back of his head, sending his prized hat flying across the table.

“Listen you dork, if you want to come out with us, control yourself,” Jay said. “We don’t need you pitching a tent and lifting the table with every girl that walks by. Calm down!”

And just like that, Earl stood up, picked up his hat and left the table. Not a word was said. I had wondered if Jay had found a way to push Earl too far.

“You didn’t have to smack him, Jay,” The Big Easy said.

Before Jay could answer, Earl re-appeared — sporting a “Hooters –CollegeTown” shirt.

Apparently, there were no hard feelings.

Surprisingly, dinner was uneventful. We ate, got the bill and we seemed ready to leave. As Tiffany returned with our change, however, Earl decided to make his move.

“So what are the odds I can get your number?” Earl asked, trying to pull off his best James Dean imitation. “I’ve seen you looking at me all night.”

I believe Tiffany wanted to die on the spot. Figuratively and literally. She just stared. The three of us buried our heads in our hands.

No answer came. That didn’t stop Earl, who had the second move up his sleeve. As he got up, he put his arm around Tiffany.

“Come on, I’ll take you somewhere fancy and we can get to know one another,” Earl said.

With that, Earl experienced his first kick to the family jewels. He went down like a ton of bricks. Tiffany then asked us to kindly remove our friend.

“You guys aren’t banned, but never bring him back,” she said.

We apologized over and over as we pulled Earl out of the restaurant. We threw him in the back of the car and got out of there as fast as we could.

Twenty minutes later, Earl seemed to finally get his breath back.

“Man oh man, that was great,” he exclaimed! “She touched me! I knew she wanted me! Did she give you guys her number to give me? Come on, don’t lie!”

The number we gave him was 555-1212. I can’t imagine the look on the operator’s face when Earl called and asked her about being a Hooters girl.

I was hoping that would be the end of Earl. I really was. But Jay keeps calling him. And that is usually followed by how much we loved hanging out with him.

It seems we’re stuck with Earl.

Heaven help us.

Fundraiser: I am, again, trying to raise money for the Relay For Life. If you donate to me — even a small amount — you will be entered to win a super-sweet quilted scarf. Click here for all the information!

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog [at] gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook! 

Life with Earl: The Beginning

Long before there was a sitcom about a guy named Earl, I was writing about a down-home bumpkin named Earl.

It’s true.

During my college days in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I was on the golf course with a few friends. It was a stacked-up day and there were people out hacking around and having major pileups on each tee pad.

When I say hacking, think to the movie Caddyshack when Spaulding is out whacking the ball around:

“Fart!”

“Double fart!”

That was the issue this day. The three of us who had come out to enjoy a round of golf were held up at the 13th tee (which was a long par 5, so an even bigger backup).

It was soon after this moment, that we met Earl. Just three of us. Me, Mike and Jay. Though the legend of Earl grew (and it was humorous to watch certain people act as if they had actually met Earl, but hadn’t) and with that I made Earl a somewhat fictional character for a weekly column in the school newspaper.

Alas, what I had envisioned for Early — a comedy of errors in some less than perfect situations — was thrown aside after a “Hooters” story by one in the journalism department. So I had to make Earl deal with some more “real” issues to keep him in the paper.

So I did that.

Over the years, I’ve thought about continuing Earl. Maybe a book. Maybe something else. But for now? I want to bring Earl to the blog. And with that, I’m going to put below the original story about Earl (with some edits… I’m more refined as a writer now, you see…), so you can all enjoy Earl and appreciate him for what he is.

Earl will live on here on my blog.

Every once in a while, he’ll make an appearance. With the world transforming as it does, I don’t think I’ll have any issues putting Earl in some kooky situations.

—

First, when you go on a golf outing, there are several rules to follow. You should always make sure you have a foursome. If you don’t, the odds are the course will stick someone with you or someone will catch up to you and ask to join your group.

That’s how we met Earl.

On a nice fall day, three of us were playing a quick round of golf. Once we caught up to several slow groups, the quick round ceased. Passing wouldn’t matter as there were three or four slow groups.

As we sat on the 13th tee waiting to play, we saw him for the first time. Toting a pull card, we witnessed an interesting golfer.

Actually, he reminded me of Spaulding from Caddyshack.

After many strokes and putts, he finished hole 12 and waddled up to the 13th tee, where we were still waiting.

“Hey, ya mind if I join ya?”

In Earl’s world, there was no need for introductions. After looking him over, I shot a quick answer.

“Yes.”

The look he gave made it feel like we just filled his ass with some buckshot.

“I’m just kidding,” I said. “Join right up.”

Those words are ones that I might have ended up regretting, if not for being a writer. But as a writer, anything interesting can always make a story. Brief introductions followed and after we had said who we were, he proclaimed himself as Earl.

A local golf professional, no doubt.

“Just missed that darn birdie on 12,” Earl said as he looked back to the 12th green. “I’m, having one hell of a day.”

Reality was I, too, had just missed a birdie on 12, but in a legitimate way. Earl’s counting skills on the course likely weren’t up to snuff as we had witnessed him hack away at least seven or eight shots.

Still, the odds were we weren’t having anywhere near the day Earl was. To think we only had six holes to get to know the big man.

Before we go further, however, I must tell you a bit about Earl. He wasn’t the brightest of people and he’s not going to grace the cover of GQ anytime soon. He appeared to be in his late 30s and we weren’t sure of his womanizing ways, though he was quick to point out several lady friends that he’s had over the years.

Soon enough, it was time to play on.

As I pulled out my driver — something new to me that past summer — Earl peered at me. This is where the fun began.

“Hey, whatcha hittin’?” asked Earl.

“Big Bertha Hawkeye,” I said, probably bragging a bit as the club had a large price tag at the time.

“HEY! Ya mind if I break… err… I mean hit it?” Earl inquired.

“Yes, I mind.”

Earl was a bit shocked. After all, who was I to turn down this golf prodigy? But he accepted the answer and sulked off a little bit. So I hit. Then Jay. Then Mike.

And Mike, well, he’s a big hitter. Long off the tee, it’s impressive to watch.

Earl was equally impressed.

“Wow! You rocked that ball,” Earl proclaimed. “That swing was awesome. It was so easy. I’m gonna call you the Big Easy!”

(Side note: For the remainder of college, Jay and I continued to call Mike “The Big Easy.” Mike, too, is from a town not far from me and anytime I’ve ever run into him, I’ve always reminded him of this nickname. Good times.)

Earl’s shot wasn’t so, well, easy. He shanked it to the left, into a cow pasture than ran to the side of this hole. He was confident in his ability to find the ball, however, and he dashed ahead to look for it. The rest of us were in the middle or on the right side of the fairway, so we split.

Jay, who was a bit of a comedian, was chuckling already about Earl.

“Where the hell does this guy come from?” Jay asked as we approached his ball. “I can’t believe they would allow someone like him on a course.”

And for those of you who know anything about golf and etiquette, we soon found out that Earl was top of the line.

Jay sized up his shot, went into his backswing and was coming through when…

“I FOUND IT! LOOK GUYS! HERE’S MY BALL!” shouted Earl as topped his shot and his ball dribbled ahead maybe 35 feet.

In the end, it turned out it wasn’t even Earl’s ball, so he just dropped another and played on.

What can you do in a situation like this besides laugh?

So, we covered our faces with our towels and started humming the song “Goodbye Earl” by the Dixie Chicks as we walked up the fairway.

After finishing the hole, Earl proclaimed a six. A bogey. Not bad, considering he lost a ball, duffed several more and three-putted. It’s some tricky math in Earl’s world.

Another wait followed on the next tee. So, Jay started up, as per normal.

“So Earl, what do you do for a living?”

“A lot of things.”

“Such as…?”

“Well, I was workin’ down in Philly as a contractor, but I hated it. So I am in the area here doing odd jobs.”

“Where you living?”

“Mackeyville.”

I was lost as a tourist in the middle of Europe.

“Where the hell is that?” I asked.

“About a mile that way,” said Earl, pointing east.

Turns out it was a tiny little place not far from where all of us went to college. Who knew?

At that point, the fairway opened up and Earl stepped to the tee. He popped his drive way right of a par-3 and swore up a storm.

Oh, I forgot to mention that Earl swears more than a sailor on leave.

After finishing that hole and started the next hole, we again had a wait. The investigative journalist in Earl shined through.

“You guys go to college here?” he asked.

We all replied yes.

“I was taking college classes online through Penn State,” said Earl. “That stuff is a bunch of gobbeldy f—ing gook.”

He pondered his next thought.

“So whatcha guys do for fun? Go to the bars, find the ladies or what?”

We all just stared at him. Quite the switch in thoughts and he was excited to know what a few college kids liked doing. He had a look of excitement on his face. A Kodak moment. Kind of like a kid who uncovers a stack of Playboy’s for the first time.

“Uh yeah, we go out. Parties, bars, whatever,” The Big Easy answered.

“Man, I’d like to see some of those college women,” Earl said. “I’ve gone to a couple bars in town, but I gotta get out more. Maybe I can join up with you guys,”

I think my jaw stayed in the middle of the 15th fairway for quite a while when Jay said “sure.”

That’s how it all began. Earl got some phone numbers. The saga of Earl would continue.

We finished the round. Jay actually let Earl hit his Bertha driver later in the round, praying the whole time nothing would happen.

And Earl, well Earl continued as he had. Swearing. Hitting’. Chillin’.

The end of Earl was not to be, however. And it will continue on here at A ‘lil HooHaa. Welcome back, Earl.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog [at] gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook by clicking the button on the right side of the page!