No bit I ever wrote supplied more fun than Snow Peeing (also known as the Home of the U.S. Olympic Pee Team). Sure, other bits got me radio interviews in East Lansing and a paying gig as a contributing writer at National Lampoon, but Snow Peeing was fun, fun, fun.
My first brush with greatness came in .net Magazine, the UK's leading magazine for web designers and developers. I never heard of .net Magazine but a friend in England thought it was a big deal. Snow Peeing was highlighted as the best of the web right next to Sir David Attenborough and his beloved mammals.
I know what you're thinking, "Why is Sir David so big and Uncle Melon so small?" What I was thinking when I saw this spread was, "When am I getting my knighthood and where are the hot, one-legged white women at?"
The next brush also came from England, from a producer of the V. Graham Norton Show. The weather forecast was calling for snow in London (which is apparently a rare occurrence) and they were going to call me up on the phone, with my site up on a monitor on the set, while they were interviewing a famous American actress, and attempt to embarass her. It seemed like a lot of effort for a laugh and they wouldn't tell me what famous actress and it must of rained because they never called back. Yeah, that was a really, really small brush.
Finally I ended up on the phone with a producer of a Fox Network prime time special. I won't give you his name because I can't remember it. The guy wanted to know if I was willing to pee Leonardo's DaVinci's Mona Lisa in front of his cameras.
"Bubala, I've got a 10-year old fat kid that can fit a whole roll of quarters in his belly button and Mexican midget rodeo, but you would get the primo spot, the last 30 minutes. You make the show, bubby. I can fly a crew out to you. There's snow out there, right? Or I can fly you to LA and we'll rent some snow making machines. Waddayasay? We're talking prime time!"
I told him that the photo was a combination of photoshop and Crystal Light lemonade. He was very disappointed although he admitted that one of his assistants warned him that it might be photoshop, "but you never know, right?"
If I got that phone call today, I think I would fly out to LA and give it my best shot. I mean come on, can pee be that much harder than photoshop? You try drawing the frickin' Mona Lisa with a mouse.
Funny thing is that a 
When they used the wrong name, I lost out on all the traffic I would have gotten from the massive readership of the Russia Journal. Think of all the oligarch hating Russians that prefer their news in English that I missed out on. One of those guys was a fan that actually e-mailed me about the article which is how I found about it. 
While on vacation, I forgot to put deodorant on. Given that I hadn't showered in 5 days because the campground had no shower, I was as ripe as a late August tomato falling from the vine, but that's not the story. If I sweat without antiperspirant coating the delicate skin of my armpit, I get this angry, raw rash as red as a late August tomato falling from the vine.
Combine it with a photo of a dog with a grotesquely long tongue that was probably photoshopped by somebody else.
I had reached what we amateur archeologists call a landscape within my dig. A landscape, or horizon if you will, that most probably carbon dated back to the 1970's. I asked my mother to fetch a brush so that I could more carefully reveal my next find. She ignored me. I asked for a lemonade. She just continued weeding. My hole was now big enough for the ball of the yew. Stop snickering. The ball of the yew was the burlap wrapped roots of the bush not it's external genitalia. The yew, being a vascular plant, used pistols and stamens for sexual reproduction not balls and stems.
