Saturday, February 28, 2009
This week I went to the funeral of my half-brother and half-sister’s great aunt. I took the day off work for this. She was a lively, friendly and caring person, and I am glad I went, however, at this sad event I encountered a place I like to call Inappropria.
After the funeral, my extended family held a luncheon in honor of “Aunt Margaret" and her fiery-red hair. It was your typical post-funeral eat-in. People gravitating to sit at the table in their “safe place,” awkwardly avoiding those they don’t know.
At this luncheon, they served up a little booze, a little wine, and a little beer. To avoid the place I call Inappropria, you should only have “a little” bit of the alcohol.
My half-brother and half sister’s second cousin (I know this is complicated), “Buzz” proceeded to hit the hard stuff. After approximately 3 scotch and waters, Buzz crossed over from his “safe place” and began conversing with my mother, Janet.
Buzz began to tell my mother how beautiful she was at her wedding. I have seen pictures of my mother at her 1st wedding to my half-brother and half-sister’s father, Ronnie, and indeed she was beautiful. Buss went on to describe how great an experience this wedding was at the tender age of 6. All of this conversation was held in Appropriate-Land. No issues here in Appropriate-Land, just pleasant conversation.
Then, all of the sudden, Buzz went there. Buzz saddled up his horse and leapt over the fence into Inappropria. Buzz spewed the following line into the universe, “Janet, when I saw you that day of your wedding, I gotta tell you, I thought to myself, I don’t know what Ronnie is gonna do, but I know what I’d do!”
Did you seriously just say you wanted to have sex with my mother at a funeral luncheon?
My mother’s reply was, “Oh you…” My reply was, “WOW!” My 25 year old nephew’s reply was also, “WOW!” We were both taken aback by this comment, and if this comment would have been made any other place, besides a funeral luncheon, I would have told good old Buzz that he was inappropriate, and that he just dragged my family and I into a dirty and weird back-alley we didn’t wanna go.
What was so funny and ironic about this character you ask? Buzz was the guy who says all the Catholic responses half-a-second earlier and louder than everybody else in Church, just so you all know he knows them better than you. If you have ever been to a Catholic service, you know this guy.
That was my trip into the strange land of Inappropria. There are certain times to be in Inappropria (at the bar with your close buddies, in your own head, maybe in the bedroom from time to time, etc.) but not at a funeral luncheon, in that situation.
Maybe I shouldn’t judge Buzz, I’ve taken people to Inappropria plenty O’ times I guess, I just wish he'd have waited until I went for a beer to make the comment.
Uh oh, my son just got on top of the couch and said, “I’m captain underpants!” I gotta run before someone gets hurt up in this piece.
Has anyone gone to Inappropria with you lately?
Saturday, February 21, 2009
This meeting was much like Catholic confessional. Throwing down all you financial woes in all its wretchedness is quite embarrassing, yet liberating at the same time. Although I am not Catholic anymore, (That’s another blog topic all in itself), I do feel that confessing to another person about that which has been haunting you is worth its weight in gold. (Get it? I made a funny).
Anyhow, there it was, before me, on the table…all my financial mistakes, pointing their dirty fingers at me, laughing, pulling my pants down in public. Turns out terms like interest only and credit card debt are bad words in economic-land.
The news isn’t all bad, the little dancer friend I call my wife and I have made some good judgment in this fiscal whirlwind. We have 401k, IRAs, Pensions, 529s and other crap that makes you realize that the days of sloppy keg stands and $20.00 in your account till next Friday are long…long past. Financially that is just fine.
As I sat there with the guy in the tie, I realized just how grown-up I have suddenly become. I have become old enough to actually worry about the future. I now have people other than me, myself and I that count on the decisions I make with my paycheck.
Damn! I want to go out, buy a new motorcycle on a spur of the moment whim, and get a horrible deal on it, and not care like the past. My glorious fiscally irresponsible past. I want to go out and spend $200.00 a weekend on overpriced LoDo (Lower Downtown) Beer. I want to go to a desolate field with a couple of shotguns and throw clay pigeons in the air and then blast them to smithereens while we laugh and talk about the 200.00 bucks we’ll blow on nothing.
Oh well, at least my kids will have college money, I’ll find a different way to pay this house off early and leave working behind at 55. Sounds pretty good.
Anyone want to do a sloppy keg stand at my house later tonight? I’m buyin and the kids are at the in-laws?
Peace out & spend it like you got it. Be a real American!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
G.I. Joes are the coolest toy ever, and G.I. Joe was one of my favorite cartoons as a kid. Any boy growing up in the eighties knows the G.I. Joe cartoon theme by heart. The G.I. Joes of today are much larger than those of my generation, but regardless, they have the same win at all costs American attitude complete with the shotguns, grenades, bullets, Kevlar helmets, and camouflage attire.
Since Christmas I have been playing with the G.I. Joes with both of my sons, and since Christmas I have noticed something I had never noticed before. All G.I. Joes are 110%, no doubt in my mind, clear-as-day GAY!
That’s right, I said it…G.I. Joes are sooo gay. Have you ever looked at them? I mean really looked at them? Their hair is immaculate, they are perfectly proportional, and they have .25% body fat. No matter what shit hole country they are currently invading, at all times they have their hair perfect, and they are always cleanly shaven.
I have noticed another oddity while having these new toys around. Every night we clean them up, throw them in a box and go to bed. Every morning they are in slightly different positions.
There is on of two possible answers as to why these Joes are in different places in the morning than the night before:
1.) My boys get up in the middle of the night and make their way to the scary dark dank basement to play G.I. Joe while I dream pleasantly of the upcoming swimsuit issue.
2.) The G.I. Joes come to life while we sleep and have gay sex-capades in the basement while I dream pleasantly of the next Broncos Super-Bowl (Dozens of years off.)
I began to believe that #2 was the answer to my question, but I needed proof. So what did I do, asks the inquisitive blog reader? That’s right, I placed a camera at the scene of the suspected crime.
And what did I find at that suspected crime scene? All the proof I need, that’s what I found. Actual evidence that toys do in fact come to life like Toy Story when humans are not looking and do things no kid should see. Here is the visual evidence.
Disclaimer – the evidence shown herein is disturbing at best and should only be viewed by mature adults:
Now let it be known, I have absolutely no problem if you are gay, but it was extremely shocking! I have since kept Woody and Buzz away from the basement. The next thing you know G.I. Joe will have them tied up doing things to them you would never want to see. Lord knows what they would do to the Cookie Monster doll.
Although…come to think of it, I will let Bert and Ernie in on the action, they deserve it.