Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Boob Man

It's Thursday - time to trip down Memory Lane (or - given today's title - Mammary Lane. Oh, I slay me, I really do.)

It is always disillusioning when children realize that their parents are sexual beings. I imagine some folks come upon this realization slowly and gently. Some folks deny it well into adulthood. I was not afforded that particular luxury.

My moment came one Christmas when we were having a rare indoor get-together with our camping friends. We roasted hot dogs and mountain pies over the fire in the basement fireplace to try to replicate as closely as possible the camping experience. I remember someone had taken a shot at making homemade root beer and I’d wanted very much to like it, but I didn’t. And I remember there were gifts.

Not a lot of gifts, it wasn’t a huge thing, wasn’t a big part of the party.

But there were gifts.

And my dad got one.

One that it seemed everyone but me thought was wildly suited to him.

This was during the era when everyone and their mother was taking ceramics classes. They would buy greenware and paint it and glaze it and – I wasn’t completely solid on all of the particulars. My mother and I had never jumped on that bandwagon. But we were in a minority. We still certainly had our share of lighted Christmas trees. I had a cheerleader with big eyes painted in my school colors. My sister had a basketball player from the same line. Praying hands? Check. Easter eggs? Please. People loved giving away their ceramic creations as much as they liked making them.

And our hostess had made a gift for my dad.

It was a carefully rendered boob mug.

She had clearly worked diligently to establish a realistic skin tone. I don’t like to ruminate too long on her amazing attention to detail.

It sure did look like a boob.

Do I really have to tell you that the recipient of said mug was to drink through the nipple?

I thought it was funny.

A little bit funny.

Kind of funny.

Vaguely amusing.

The adults thought it was hysterical.

And then they all started talking about what a great gift this was for a boob man like my dad.

My DADDY was a BOOB MAN?

I felt homemade root beer churning up the hot dogs and mountain pies as they all tried to work their way back up.

It wasn’t even a little bit funny anymore. Now it was the most vulgar thing I’d ever seen. And my favorite store at the time was Spencer Gifts. Just to give you some perspective.

Suddenly I experienced a sharp, vivid memory from the past summer. We had gone to the beach. When we picked up our pictures from the drugstore, my mom had a loudly whispered confrontation with my father that hadn’t made sense at the time, but now became utterly clear,

She had asked Dad to take a picture of her, my sister and I with the ocean behind us. And he did. But when the film was developed, the foreground of that picture was dominated by a young woman sunbathing with her bikini straps undone. Very small and very much in the background was my mom, my sister and I, smiling and waving.

We are very lucky to have digital technology in this day and age, that’s all I’m saying.

And mugs without nipples.

31 comments:

parentingBYdummies said...

Gross! But, kinda funny:)

blueviolet said...

Is there anything more disgusting than thinking of your parents and sex in the same sentence?

mama-face said...

hahaha. You slay me as well.

How do you remember things so well? A boob mug would be very hard to forget though.

And homemade root beer! (yeah, I know, not what your post was chiefly about; I just had to throw that in since I will never understand the fascination with the stuff.)

I thought your post title said BOOK man at first. LOL. Why do I find that funny?

Mandy's Life After 30 said...

Men are just obsessed with breasts and those that weren't breastfed as a baby (like my husband) are even more infatuated with them. I don't get it! It's not like we go around taking photos of men's peckers or patting their slippery snakes on the sidewalk (or do we? :-)

Parents and sex, yeah that is a disgusting thought! But like it or not, it's how we all got here....

Badass Geek said...

I'm a boob man, too, and I think I would rather much enjoy a mug like that.

Sandy said...

Boob Man? Isn't that redundant? I REMEMBER those mugs. I took a ceramics class for about 15 minutes back in the late 70's and all the women (not me!!) were making them. /:-|

Gin said...

Oh God. This is toooooooo funny!

WhisperingWriter said...

Haha.

A boob mug would be amusing. I've seen those in Spencer's Gifts.

Kathy B! said...

Blech. Parents and sex are a toxic cocktail. And mugs resembling body parts are not funny!

Well sometimes they are...

SPEAKING FROM THE CRIB said...

i completely remember those mugs. ew. who does that?

in response to your comment on my blog - if you want scissors with daisies on them, go to ARCHIVERS. i got mine free for going to a SUPER SUNDAY CROP and paying $20 to do it, but i got fed all day AND scissors with daisies on them that were supposedly a $16 value. the day i pay $16 for a pair of scissors that i know will eventually get lost, just shoot me in the face. well, i guess i actually did pay $16 for them, didn't i?

Noah's Mommy said...

omg...almost snorted milk up my nose....hilarious....and would have scared me for life....

JennyMac said...

I am still laughing about Mammary Lane!

MiMi said...

OH MY GOSH! My grandpa (yeah, grandpa!!!) had a boob mug. Ew! But you didn't drink out of the nipple. Yuck. I swear, he had a major thing for boobs. He even gave my grandma a shirt with fried eggs on it in place of boobs, you know, because she was flat, I guess?
Oy.No wonder I'm so twisted.
Hey, what's a mountain pie?? Sound good! Are they better than tasty kakes??

Anita said...

Oh goodness.........it totally cracks me up, until I remember it's your dad, then I gag I little! Even now when we "lock" our bedroom door I'm sure my teen girls are gagging that we might, heaven forbid, be having sex!

AB HOME Interiors said...

Oh my! Well I guess at some point it all happens. When I was 10 I walked in on my parents. I was grossed out, mortified, scared, freaked out, curious you name the emotion and I was feeling it. The image was forever imprinted in my head. It took weeks, and I mean WEEKS for me to get over the "incident". What were they doing? Why were they naked? WHy were they so freaked out about me? I did not understand at all what they were doing. All I remember was the image and my mother being mortified for weeks in horror!

Alex the Girl said...

ah....HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Thanks, Tammy.

Simon said...

I couldn’t agree more. The only people who should be allowed to have kids should be ones who have no interest in sex whatsoever. That would soon sort things out.

Tsquared417 said...

We had a boob mug too!! I should say my Dad did....it freaked me out!!!

Pam said...

A boob mug is definitely good for at least 6 months in the psychologist's chair. YIKES!

SparkleFarkle said...

"I felt homemade root beer churning up the hot dogs and mountain pies as they all tried to work their way back up." You are truly a genius! Tammy, I simply love every word you write! Thanks!

The Grown-Up Child said...

Nobody really wants to think of their dad as a boob man, so I totally get it. ;)

BONNIE K said...

I love the idea of a boob mug!

FranticMommy said...

I about died the first time I saw my dad in his underwear. I can't imagine what would have happened to me if I saw him slurp thru a ceramic ta-ta!

Unknown Mami said...

He's not my dad so I'm cracking up.

Elizabeth said...

Wow, I totally would have been mortified! And BTW, Mammary Lane slayed me too. :) Stopping by from SITS this morning, happy Friday to you!

Housewife Savant said...

In the Golden Day of Bad Ceramics it'd be nice to have an entire set of Boob Mugs
And a big ol' Ass Pitcher for serving.

Jenny Penny said...

Oh, man. That's a rude awakening. Wanna hear mine? It involves sharing a bedroom with my parents while visiting my grandparents' house when I was about seven. "Bill!" I hear my mom quietly hiss. "Sssstop it. Not now! The kids!" Or something like that. I always took an hour or more to fall asleep at that age, and they assumed I was out. I knew, just knew, what my dad had been trying to do, and to this day it makes my skin crawl. My parents don't even know I remember that!

Brandy said...

My dad & both ride Harleys with the same group. They find it soooo amusing to talk about sex when we're both around.

I do not. Not. At. All.

MaryRC said...

that boob mug was bad but not as bad as the penis mug. my stepmom's parents (old people mind you) had them on display in their home. they were from europe, i guess it was acceptable in denmark. those things haunted me, my first sight of a penis was a penis mug.

Brother Frankie said...

hey, i had that mug. an aunt made it for me on my 16th birthday..

and now im a minister..

see moral of the story,

"jesus loves boobies"

be blessed love the blog..

Brother Frankie
A biker for Christ

(if you are one of my sheep and read this, im claiming my kid wrote it)

Vivienne said...

That is so funny! It could have been much worse though. You could have happened upon your parents in their post-coital glow, smoking cigarettes and sharing a drink from the boob mug.