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An Ode To Ho Boy

October 14, 2010

Imagine if you will, being in a ballroom dance class at University. You’re in a large gymnasium with the women divided from the men, facing each other in two parallel lines. You’ve had general conversations with your fellow dancers, but everyone is still relatively new to you. The instructor asks the men to choose a partner for the upcoming Rumba and as most of them shyly make their way across the floor, you hear a voice bellow in your direction: “HO! GET OVER HERE!” You stop, mortified. Then the silence is broken by the goofiest laugh you’ve ever heard. This is how I met one of my best friends. Let’s call him H.B. (short for Ho Boy).

My ballroom dance career – another dabble-gone wrong – ended shortly thereafter, but H.B. has been a huge part of my life ever since: we spent much of the 90s as each other’s “plus one” at various functions until he introduced me to The Serb.  I repaid him by trying (and failing miserably) to set him up with every single woman in town. No one believed we were completely platonic, but it’s true. When Harry Met Sally, we were not; for us it was always more Donny & Marie, minus the singing.

My favorite thing about H.B. is his sense of humor – his practical jokes are works of art. A girlfriend of less than six months once opened the following Christmas presents from him: funky-smelling, hand-knit slippers of unknown origin; a set of booster cables; and the fuzziest, nastiest, most bedazzled sweater ever to grace the racks of Value Village. During the unwrapping, he offered comments such as, “I really hope you like it,” and “I saw this and thought it was perfect for you…try it on.”

Don’t feel too badly for the girlfriend because she’s now his wife (and right-hand-woman in his shenanigans). When she was pregnant, the Serb and I met them for dinner at a relatively swanky restaurant. Before the drinks arrived, she started shifting uncomfortably and complaining about her spicy lunch. Then she farted. Loudly, repeatedly and horribly.

My genteel European husband was mortified and tried to ignore the offending sounds. I stifled giggles by drawing blood from biting the inside of my cheek. Finally, H.B. revealed the remote control fart machine that Mrs. H.B. had hidden in her lap prior to our arrival.

Even the elderly don’t escape H.B.’s pranks: his wife’s grandparents were visiting and found an oversized mousetrap, meant for rats and baited with raw steak, in the corner of the guest bedroom.

So consider this if you ever meet a dude with a goofy laugh and mischief-making gleam in his eye: there’s likely a whoopee cushion in your immediate future.


Obviously, we are nowhere near this sassy (although my hair is similar)



It was like this, only with feathers and acrylic.



Notice the boom box feature...


10 Comments leave one →
  1. October 14, 2010 9:01 am

    where was my intro to this dude…
    are you hiding any other goodies???

  2. October 14, 2010 9:03 am

    Sorry, toots – he was off the market by the time I moved out here…no other hidden gems (for now)

  3. October 14, 2010 11:22 am

    Every one needs a Ho Boy. My Ho Boy referred to my backside as JELLO. He’s lucky I loved him or I would have shaved his entire body before making him streak across campus.

  4. October 14, 2010 1:27 pm

    I am gonna make my husband read your blog. He really believes a man and a woman can’t be friends without any special connections.
    One point for me!

    • October 14, 2010 1:30 pm

      Ha! I used to say H.B. was like my Ken Doll – I didn’t think of him as a guy, just a friend. Needless to say, H.B. was NOT impressed with my rationalizations…

  5. October 14, 2010 2:57 pm

    My HB used to cry when sad songs came on the radio. I don’t think he was kidding tho?!?

  6. October 18, 2010 8:24 pm

    Ahh! I met my HB at a strip club….Over 15 years later were still together- like Donny & Marie! I still blame him for allowing me to marry my first husband. He drove me to the wedding and if his antennas were on (which they we NOT) he would have read my mind saying, ‘Maybe we should just keep driving’.

    • October 18, 2010 10:46 pm

      HB are there through thick and thin, aren’t they? Mine was very happy with the post – thought I might spill more secrets (saving it for the book – ha!)

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