Ohhhh-ho, man, are you all going to be so jealous when I tell you this. Last night at college, on my way out of the building after a class, I stopped by the men's room to, as I like to say, take a piss, when who should I nearly bump into but Herald-Mail humor columnist and attempted author, Tim Rowland. He was the only one in there, and the urinal was still flushing as he was on his way out, so I'm pretty sure he didn't wash his hands. Anyway, within seconds of our near-miss, I was pissing in the same pisser as Tim Rowland. Who wants to touch me?
My heart, she flutters still . . .
A brief parusal of the college website shows me that he's teaching two sections of English Composition this term, including one that meets Tuesday evening and lets out at 8:45. Well there ya go. Poor guy must've had to wring the sock out in the middle of class. Come to think of it, he did seem in a bit of a hurry. I don't know how long he was in the bathroom, but I bet it was plenty of time for some of his more diabolical undergrads to coordinate a pencil drop, or tape cut-outs from a Hustler pictorial on the overhead projector screen. I wouldn't leave a room full of college English students unattended for very long, either.
I make fun of Tim Rowland a lot because he's not really that funny. But Rowland I kid out of love, unlike Bob Parasiliti, whom I kid out of a reactive, instinctive disdain for every word the man has ever written. Rowland at least has the right outlook on Hagerstown, and even if I find the ribbing he gives my hometown to be pretty lame most of the time, I still appreciate the fact that someone with a significant local audience is doing it. I mean, fuck, I love Hagerstown, but how do you not make fun of this place?
And some of Rowland's serious columns, like this one, are actually pretty good. He's really the only diamond in the dung heap that is the Herald-Mail, though perhaps not as polished and finely cut as he might be. Maybe next time we meet in the men's room, I'll hit him up for an autograph, if he's washed his hands, the filthy bastard.
Then I can sell the autograph to Rick and make a bundle. Oh yeah.