Thursday, December 07, 2006

In Lieu of Writing About Constipation....

First off, thanks for everyone's input. I went with the consensus and got the second dollhouse. I reasoned that Gwennie and Emma could not possibly care less about room space, the elevator was cool and by the time it breaks they'll probably be tired of it anyway. They also play very well together (meaning that Emma obeys Gwennie unflinchingly and without question), so I don't think sharing will be an issue. Now we'll just have to see if I can put it together. I think I'll get Brother-In-Law to help me.

I know some of you were amused by john's comment (as was I). I just wanted say that John is no random commenter. He's a friend of mine from High-Minded-Liberal-Arts-College in New Hampshire whom I've known for years. He's a really funny writer and could write a fantastic blog which I've been not-so-subtly hinting at him to do. If he continues to refuse, I'll see if I can talk him into letting me post some of his stuff.

That being said, I have to say that it is so weird having someone from that particular time in my life read this blog. He found me on MySpace and I emailed him and let him know where I write regularly. But once I found out he actually read it, I went back through my archives and tried to read it through the eyes of someone who hadn't seen me in a long time, just to see if my personality had remained consistent over time. (I'm frequently bored and given to constant overanalysis and introspection. I can't help it.) Anyway, I think I'd come to the conclusion that I drank a lot and was rather touched in the head - probably not so different from college. I was a wreck in college though. I'm still a wreck, but now I can read William Faulker and laugh instead of pucker. That's a huge improvement.

4 comments:

john said...

Giggle.

Yeah, I read your old stuff. I think you've mellowed and developed a strong, richly-flavored, yet slightly smoky flavor, and a deep chestnut appearance. Like a fine Scotch. But spending years stuffed in a barrel will do that to anything, I suppose. Which is sort of how I prefer my women. 18 years old and stuffed in a barrel.

Remember that time you, Jethro, and I got drunk with the priests and the Roe Vs Wade lady? That'll be nine years ago next April. Good times.

I'd write a blog, but I'd have to do it without the letters QWER, ASDF, ZXCV, and occasionally TG & B. You see, I murdered my left hand with a framing gun a couple of weeks ago.
Shot a 16 penny nail right through my middle finger. Had to pull it out with vice grips. And swear a lot. Which leaves me busy carring for the 37 trillion orphans we've fathered together over the years.

I can't convince Theresa I didn't do it on purpose either. I've had a lot of bad ideas in the past, — like splitting a keg of Sam Adams with our three pigs back when we were playing hobby farmers. And if you've ever woken up in a pig pen cuddling a four hundred pound sow, then you know how bad of an idea that is. And I don't mean the kind you wake with in dorm rooms either. I mean a real honest to goodness floppy eared, grunting, and very satisfied looking pig.

But I swear, this was really an accident. She still doesn't believe it.

Maybe I'll start one in a couple of weeks. I've spent the last seven years working with the religious nuts of this country, and have decided to sell out to the Chomsky spewing homo baby killers, and become a professional religious nut hunter. I'm going to make a fortune. I start in January.

Zelda said...

It was the Roe v. Wade lady and her Lesbian Lover. It might have been hot if they were 20 years younger and 3,000 lbs lighter. But boy could those priests put it away, right? They even drank you under the table. Jethro's had issues with Catholicism ever since, so you know it was a good night.

And I must say that I am utterly captivated by your gleeful admissions of bestiality, but I can't imagine waking up next to a 400 lb sow was any worse than some of your human exploits.

But what I remember most is that unbeknownst to you, you gave a certain young man his very first kiss on the mouth ever.

john said...

If you're talking about Damien, then it actually is beknownst to me. If you're talking about someone else, then I'm checking into rehab instead of going home after work. And in Damien's case, it obviously worked... He's got like 37 kids now. Or maybe he really did like it, and is just going to great lengths to disguise his latent homosexual tendencies.

Oh, and the kids totally saw through the Santa letters. But that's ok. They're pretty sure I'm Santa anyway, though they have moments of doubt.

About six weeks ago, they busted me cleaning the chimney. I'd been up on the roof running the chain and brush down, while T had them down in Nashua or Manchvegas for some church related function. I was half in the bag (surprise), and enjoying the sooty work.

Jack jumped out of the van and yelled "Dad! what in the world are you doing?!?"

I quickly climbed down the ladder and took them all into my deepest confidence.

"You can't tell anyone kids. I've been practicing while you were gone. You see... I'm Santa Claus."

"No way dad!"

"Remember that movie where the guy from Tool Time gets all fat and grows a white beard every Christmas Eve?"

"Yeah..."

"Well how do you think he gets down all those chimneys? He tosses a chain down to climb down on. And of course, he has to practice."

"Whoa, dad... you're really Santa?"

"Yep. Really Santa. Now don't tell anyone. Pinky swear."

"Pinky swear, dad."

It's had them for the last several weeks, but we had a little bit of a row about Santa yesterday.

They've evidently decided I am not actually Santa, despite the letters, etc., so my threats about them not behaving mean nothing.

"Fine, " I said. " I'll just wait up on the roof tonight Christmas Eve and shoot his happy fat ass when he lands there."

" But...but ... but... what about Christmas?!?"

" Well I guess there just won't be anymore of those, will there. Unless you listen to your mom."

Zelda said...

Did you really know at the time that Damian had never kissed anyone ever? I had no idea. I found out months later. But either way, you sure unplugged something.

Emma is a firm believer in Santa, but I think Gwennie's just pretending as hard as she can. One of the little shits next door spilled the beans to her last year. I told her that Santa probably didn't visit him because he was so bad, but I think it kind of ruined it for her. Our friends claim they have Santa on speed dial, so any misbehavior can be reported to Santa with all expediency. It seems to work for them.