Private Parts by Howard Stern Read Free Book Online Page B

what?" I say.
    "Hi, Doddie. Say hi to Doddie."
    First of all, my name is Daddy, not Doddie. And she acts like I don't know my own kids.
    Then she's got to examine everything I eat. Now I admit that this is a little more civilized than examining my underpants, but it's still irritating as hell. I don't like people watching me eat. One of the most annoying things in the world that anybody can do is to put his face in my food.
    "Let's see what we're eating today," she'll say. What do you mean "we"? She actually picks at my salad bowl with a fork, stirring everything around. I go out of my mind.
    "You've got hot with cold, Howard. Hot rice with cold tuna?" Norma says. "I am fascinated by the combinations of food that you put in one bowl."
    Great. What that really means is I'm disgusted by what you eat,
    you big, ugly, six-foot-five dork. And the fact that my daughter fucks you repulses me. Now I feel as if I'm a fucking zoo animal on exhibit. I felt like pushing her head into the damn food, she was so fascinated by it.
    But the worst thing about my in-laws is the incessant questions they ask me. The second they walk into the room they start asking Howard Stern questions. This is my home. I want to relax. I don't want to think about being Howard Stern. But my in-laws don't let me forget it for a second. It's as if I've got two Stuttering Johns there, asking one stupid question after another. I made the mistake of showing them some of the tapes of my television show and that set them off.
    "Howie." My father-in-law calls me Howie. God, how I hate that. "When did Kitty Carlisle Hart add the Hart to her name?"
    "How would I know, Bob?" I said. I had her on the show as a guest and maybe I said two words to her off-camera. Boom, next question. Just like a press conference.
    "How much is a person like Kitty Carlisle Hart or Arlene Francis or Dr. Ruth paid when they come on your show?"
    I DIDN'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY TV AND RADIO CAREER! I would have talked about their life or my kids or tennis or anything else. And quite frankly, WHO GIVES A RAT'S ASS WHEN KITTY CARLISLE CHANGED HER NAME TO KITTY CARLISLE HART!
    My in-laws are just like my audience when they call up with these stupid questions. But at least I can hang up on my audience. Here, I was a captive. I couldn't leave. So I started making believe I didn't hear them and I made them repeat the questions two or three times, hoping they'd get annoyed. Like Muhammad Ali doing rope-a-dope, I hoped maybe they'd punch themselves out. But it didn't work.
    When Bob rested, Norma piped in with more questions.
    "How will they promote your radio show when you go into new markets?" she asked.
    I actually started to answer her, but she was already asking the kids what they wanted for breakfast. It was as if she didn't even want to know the answer.
    "How do you get guests for the TV show?" she started in again.
    "Booker," I grunted. At this point, I was down to one-word answers.
    "What do you mean 'booker'?" Bob asked.
    "Booker, we have a booker. Frank Smiley," I said.
    "And how does he know who to call? Does, say, a Kitty Carlisle Hart call you to be on the show?" Bob asked.
    I was so woozy by this time that I was ready to pass out.
    But I couldn't even find a couch, because every one was taken. Bob was on one with his crosswords and pens and dirty newspapers all over the place. And one of Alison's brothers was on the other, watching sports on TV. Alison's brothers aren't as bad as her parents with the questions. But they can eat a person out of house and home in a shorter time than it takes Bob to leave the freaking door open so the cat can escape. I've never seen anything eat so much.
    Uh-oh. "Entertainment Tonight" was coming on TV. My father-in-law was armed with more questions.
    "Howie, Mary Hart, she's very perky. A very up personality. What kind of gal is she?"
    "Don't know," I grunted, hoping to put an end to this nonsense. He had fifty more Mary Hart questions. "Do you think they show