Why I Don’t Wear A Mickey Mouse T-Shirt

It’s a lazy morning and I’m scanning through Facebook. I love reading Carla Birnberg‘s status updates. She either makes me think or laugh.

Carla made a comment about the ’70’s and key parties that triggered my memory. Not that I’ve ever attended a key party, but in 1977, at the age of 14, I did attend a funky party.

In Covington, KY, sits an apartment complex that overlooks the Ohio river. The complex has a perfect West side view of the Cincinnati skyline. I don’t know what kind of reputation the complex has now, but back in the ’70’s, The Bluffs were the cool place to live. If you were young, successful, and far out, then you lived at The Bluffs.

I had a friend named Bev who lived in our apartment complex. She lived with her dad and stepmom, Michael Ray. I hung at their apartment a lot. Her family was way cooler than mine, but nothing was cooler than spending a weekend at Bev’s mother’s apartment at The Bluffs.

One weekend at Bev’s mother’s included a Saturday afternoon club house party. There were disk jockeys at the party who were pseudo local celebrities. Bev’s mother pointed them out to us and told us we could go talk to them if we wanted. She had spent time with them before and found them lame. Of course, after she dismissed them, there was no way we would talk to them.

The smell of weed hung heavy in the air. Every woman in the room looked beyond glamorous to me with their thick head bands and crocheted pants. I remember what I wore. I wore cut off shorts, flip flops, and a red t-shirt that said ‘red neck’ on the front. I was wearing shirts ironically way before it was cool.

I probably remember details about that party because it was there that I saw my first penis.

Giving weed to kids is not cool, but this was the 70’s and shit like that happened all the time. Pretty toasted, Bev and I were sitting on a love seat when her mother brought a friend over to meet us.

I don’t remember the friend’s name so we will call him Mike Brady. He had curly dark hair like Mike Brady, but looked much seedier. Like Mike Brady’s cousin that the family never talked about. He looked like the type of guy you never wanted to loan money to.

Bev’s mom looks at her friend and says “Oh, you have to show my daughter your tattoo of Mickey Mouse. It’s adorable”.

Mike Brady looked uncomfortable and waved the suggestion away, but Bev’s mom insisted.

So, he showed us his tattoo.

Unfortunately, his Mickey Mouse tattoo was on his upper inner thigh.

I sat there and watched this strange man pull his pants down, cup his balls and pull them aside, so that we could see his Mickey Mouse tattoo.

I remember willing myself to keep a straight face. I thought, don’t react. Pretend like it’s not strange at all to have a penis directly in front of your face.

Y’all, it was close enough to touch. I know my memory is faulty here, but in my mind the penis looked blue and purple and pink and might have had a strobe light in it.

I remember Bev’s mother laughing. I didn’t understand, until I was much older, that she was laughing at our obvious discomfort. It was completely twisted. Her actions today would get her and Mickey Mouse penis man arrested. Quite possibly, they’d get a permanent place on the sex offender’s register.

I realize that this story sounds dark and upsetting. Yes, children shouldn’t be exposed to drugs and penises, but trust me, y’all, this did not have a lasting effect on me. Although, the story is dark and upsetting, the story is still mine. I’ve always been kind of amused by the fact that I have a Mickey Mouse story to go along with my first penis sighting.

I’m sure I freaked out at the time. I remember flitting around at the party, eating fondue, drinking champagne, and feeling like I was living on the edge of life. In Kentucky. And then a penis came along and fucked it all up.

It might have made some lasting impression. I don’t think I ever accepted another offer to stay at Bev’s mother’s house.

Okay, that story isn’t the only reason I don’t wear Mickey Mouse shirts. I have my standards and they don’t include wearing cartoon themed shirts. Besides, my closet is crammed with Doctor Who shirts.

So, anyone else have a Mickey Mouse/penis story? Just me, then?

Also, I had a guest post on Always Drunk this week. Check it out, I tried to write through writer’s block.

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  • So seedy Mike Brady was free-ballin? (BTW, Seedy? Hahaha! Snort! I can’t remember the last time someone actually said that) I mean…he wasn’t even wearing Calvin Klein jockey shorts? Like, you were faced with full frontal penisage, right?
    I don’t guess I remember my first penis sighting. At 45, there have been so many. (Not that many penises (peni?) ’cause I’ve been married since I was 20, so mainly just one penis. But I’ve seen that one A. LOT.)

    • You know, I don’t remember if he was wearing underwear or not. Most of my memories of that day are snapshots, nothing more. I mean…it was a long time ago and I’ve killed many brain cells since then. Peni? Hmmm…I don’t know..is it penises or peni? I would google it but I’m at work and I’d really prefer that the plural of penis not be in my search history. hahahah.

  • Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, oh my…I have some fairly bizarre tales from my early teens onward but none include Mickey Mouse tattoos.
    Indeed the mother reminds me of someone who was responsible for one or two fairly dodgy experiences I had around that age as well. Like you, it amuses me to look back on them rather than feel aggrieved or scarred.
    I feel a blog coming on soon.

    • I CAN’T WAIT!

      Yeah, I have so many other experiences that shifted my brain around…this one? Not so much. It’s just silly…although, if it happened to one of my kids, I’d want to kill them both. errr..the mom and the mickey mouse penis guy..not my kids.

    • Oh, it’s definitely got it’s rough places. It still feels like home to be though..Hubs and I usually go down the the Main Strauss area at least 3 or 4 times a year to wander around.

        • Octoberfest is always fun…there are some interesting characters…the people watching it worth it. And if you like Cajun food, go to Dee Felice cafe..I love that place

  • The first peni I ever saw were in the Playgirl magazine my English teacher bought me for my 17th birthday (yes, really). The first one I saw in the flesh…well, I married it. Yes, really. Don’t try this at home, girls. It won’t end well.

  • I think my first penis was in Playgirl also. Can’t recall my first “live” sighting. It did not involve Mickey Mouse. It might have involved The Cure. Or possibly Echo and the Bunnymen. It’s kind of a distant memory at this point, since it will have been 30 years ago next year.

  • Oh man, I totally lost it at the strobe light, lol.

    I don’t really remember my first sighting, but I do remember making out with my first ever boyfriend and him taking my hand and sticking it on his crotch, a bold move for someone who took forever to work up the courage to kiss me when we first started dating. So there I am, feeling up a penis through a pair of thin summer shorts, with absolutely no idea where to go from there.
    First thought: Holy hell, it’s huge! Are they all like this? (No, no they are not.)
    Second thought: So…WTF do I do now? It’s just…there. What does it want? What are its expectations?
    In the end I just kind of patted it briefly, like, “You’re a penis, good job!” and then removed my hand, and we never spoke of it again.

  • The only thing that could make this story more disturbing is if there was a complementary tattoo on the opposite inner thigh of Goofy.

  • Do you mind if I write a chick-lit book with the title, “And then a penis came along and fucked it all up.”? I mean, that sentence must be used for all time.

    Excellent, loud-guffawing post.

  • Yep. I’m really glad I live here in Florida and don’t frequent the mouse house much. I don’t think I’ll ever see Mickey without thinking about this story again.
    Lord, Michelle, I laughed until I cried. Times were different, weren’t they?!

    • They really were. I mean, I don’t want to minimize how very wrong the behavior was…but it was a different time and I truly don’t count that as a bad memory…more of a weird memory..

  • My first sighting of an adult penis was on public transit. A street person who was drunk and only wearing pants, no shoes, top or underwear kept losing his hold on his pants as he wandered around the subway from side to side. It was super funny because his penis was right at head height for anybody sitting and this guy was weaving back and forth into the seated people. People at that end of the car were climbing the walls to get away. The looks of horror as people realized they were about to get it in the face has stuck with me for more than 25 years.

  • Holy-moly! Hahahahaha!
    Not sure how this ranks since it definitely doesn’t have Mickey Mouse in it but I saw my first penis at my mother’s friend’s Mary Kay party. Us kids were banished to a bedroom in the back & when I got tired of friend’s kid giving me “warming lotion” demonstrations on my arm I went out to see what the deal was with the crazy, electronic disco emanating from the living room. When I peeked in, there was a porno video on & the man was waving his dick around to the tune of that old gem, Popcorn (by Hot Butter).
    OK, so it wasn’t an in-person penis but I was a bit horrified & embarrassed. So were the adults since one came running in to switch it off. 🙂

  • That IS kind of disturbingly ACS Abuse Hotline-worthy, though… I mean, WHY couldn’t his “pencil” be stashed while showing you guys his tatt??

    • The tattoo was literally covered up by his penis, it was that far up on his inner thigh..and things were different then (not better or right, just different)

  • I was laughing so hard at “I was wearing shirts ironically way before it was cool.” And then I got to the next line. You’re amazing, my dear.

    Besides the “Joy of Sex” book in my parents’ room, I saw my first penis at Long’s drugstore. (I’m guessing late 70s to early 80s.) There was a guy wearing very short running shorts , and his penis was hanging out–like completely out. We were both in the candy section, and I was buying Circus Peanuts of all things. I kept looking back and forth between the candy and the penis.

    I don’t eat Circus Peanuts anymore. Nor do I wear running shorts.

  • All I can think about is the guy who had to “give” him that tattoo. I picture a big biker looking guy, sketching Mickey Mouse next to a strobe light, multi-colored penis. I’m sure I’ll have some crazy dreams tonight.

  • My first sighting was when my family was on vacation in Hawaii — I ran into my parent’s adjoining hotel room and saw my father’s morning wood, presented on the bathroom counter as he brushed his teeth. I was horrified — but probably not as much as him.

By Michelle


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