Little Sh*t supposedly has a job!
According to my source (my uncle) who heard it straight from Meemaw, who got it straight from Little Sh*t himself, he has a job.
It should also be noted that it is the opinion of Little Sh*t that his mom's sofa ain't worth crap; he should know since that where he's been sleeping for the last week.
More details to come as this breaking story develops!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Dumbass Gene
Before reading any further, it might behoove you to refamiliarize your self with my previous rambling about the characters mentioned in this post using the links provided.
Christmas With Little Sh*t Part II
Did you look closely at an oak tree? Notice how large the branches are and how each branch sprouts off into smaller limbs that are large in and of themselves and how those limbs contain their own large limbs that splinter off until you can trace the tree all the way to its to tiny twigs.If you look close enough, occasionally you’ll find a branch that just isn’t quite right. It’s part of the main tree, but most of its limbs, twigs, and leaves don’t seem to match the rest of the tree.
It might be that that particular branch is infested with a fungus; it may have suffered some sort of injury due to an animal that has made the tree its home; or that branch may have been struck by lightning.
My family tree is somewhat like that oak tree. Most of the family branches are intact, fairly normal and healthy, but we have this one branch that got infected with the dumbass gene somewhere along the way….about 24 years ago to be exact.
That would be about the time that my cousin met this guy (let’s just call him Big Sh*t), they got married and spawned a child that we now know as Little Sh*t.
OK….enough with my p*ss poor John-Boy imitation….on with the story!!!!
So Saturday, my dad’s side of the family had their family reunion. Meemaw, Little Sh*t’s mom and of course, Little Sh*t and his girlfriend were there.
So, my uncle takes my parents aside and regales them this little gem!
Apparently, for several months, Meemaw has been hounding my uncle to find Little Sh*t a house. Because my uncle is a home inspector, he knows most of the local real estate agents, loan managers at banks, etc., so he knows what’s on the market, what’s being foreclosed, what’s a good/bad deal, etc.
Now, keep in mind that Meemaw is way too busy feeding Little Sh*t, washing his clothes, and tending to his basic necessities to be bothered with looking for a house for him herself.
My guess is that the only reason this house buying idea has come up is because now that Little Sh*t has become somewhat serious with this girlfriend, Meemaw sees there may be a future Mrs. Little Sh*t and possibly a litter of Little Sh*ts to carry on the dumbass gene and therefore, Little Sh*t needs his own home.
Well, my uncle finally found a prospect! The homeowner was wanting someone to pay him 20K and then take over the payments on the property.
My uncle relayed the info to Meemaw and she said that sounded like a good deal to her.
Now here’s where it gets funny!
Being that Meemaw is still living in the home that they built 50 years ago, she isn’t really “bank savvy”, “real estate savvy” and is relatively naïve to the way the rules work in Obamanomics of 2010.
So my uncle informed her that if (big if) the bank would be willing to finance Little Sh*t, he would need to pay twenty percent down of the asking price. Twenty percent of $20,000 is $4000!!!
Meemaw was quite shocked! She thought he would only have to pay five percent or less! (Did I mention Meemaw isn’t really bank savvy?).
Then my uncle informed her he would also have to pay closing costs and to count on somewhere between one and two thousand for that.
Again….color Meemaw SHOCKED!
And then there’s insurance, etc.
Well, Meemaw was astonished!
She said there was just no way Benjamin could handle that because he was still paying on his truck, his jetskis (WTF???? He’s had those jetskis for at least 4 or 5 years and he bought them USED! You’d think they’d be paid for by now!) still paying on his fourwheeler, and God only knows what else he’s paying, but I can tell you right now he’s definitely NOT paying rent, room or board to Meemaw!
Well, we all got a good chuckle out of that.
Good story, huh? Well it doesn’t end there and this is just TOO RICH!!!!
My uncle calls my dad up on Sunday and fills him in on what Paul Harvey would call “The REST of the Story.” Keep in mind the reunion had not even ended 24 hours prior to this phone call!
After the reunion, Meemaw asked if Little Sh*t’s mama had told him what Little Sh*t did.
Norman said “No.”
Well, Little Sh*t felt like he deserved a raise, so he went to his boss last week and told him just that!
Little Sh*t’s boss informed him that if he hadn’t noticed, business hasn’t been all that great and he was barely making enough money from the business to keep it open.
So Little Sh*t hauls off and tells this guy that if he doesn’t come up with a raise, then his last day would be on Friday. His boss said “I hope you don’t mean that.” Little Sh*t said, “Well, let’s just see what happens on Friday.”
Well, Friday came and went….Little Sh*t doesn’t get his raise and now he doesn’t have a job, either. (Did I mention that Meemaw said he was still paying on his truck, jetskis, etc.?)
Now you’re probably thinking to yourself, well surely he had another job already lined up? Folks, remember I said that tree branch had been infected with the dumbass gene?
OF COURSE LITTLE SH*T DID NOT HAVE ANOTHER JOB LINED UP!!!!
So now, lets turn our attention to the events of yesterday, when my uncle relayed the latest news to us.
It seems as though Little Sh*t was sure that his boss would call him up over the weekend and just beg on his hands and knees to come back to work….because after all, that body shop was just going to go under when word got out around town that Little Sh*t had quit.
Well, Little Sh*t’s boss didn’t call, so Little Sh*t decided yesterday that he was going to move back to Augusta.
He told Meemaw he already had his house picked out (translation: he is going to move in with his mama) and he’d get a job in Augusta.
It seems as though one of his buddies told him there were TONS of car dealerships in Augusta and he’d have a job in any one of their collision repair shops just as soon as he walked in the door. Plus, some of those people in the service department take home $500 per week!
Side note: Earth to Little Sh*t…..you are certified in body repair….not as an auto mechanic….BIG DIFFERENCE!!!!
So just like in 1859, when pioneers traveled westward to California in hopes of striking gold, Little Sh*t has traveled eastward in search of a job.
I’m sure one he gets settled in at his mama’s, he’ll send for his girlfriend.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Mr. Deavers' Opus
Several years ago, I watched a movie called "Mr. Holland's Opus" despite the fact that it starred Richard Dreyfuss.
At the time that the film was released, I refused to see it in the theatre simply because critics were raving about it. I figure that's always a dead giveaway that the movie actually sucks. I also had no desire to see it because it starred Richard Dreyfuss. (Can you tell I'm not a fan?)
One rainy Saturday I was extremely bored, so I watched the movie. To my shock, it was actually pretty good.
It's about a frustrated composer that takes a job as a high school music teacher to pay the bills while attempting to complete his labor of love: a symphony. A symphony that will become his legacy.
Months turn into years; years turn into decades.
What was supposed to be a temporary stepping stone to his dream turned into his career. As time moved on, more and more time was devoted to his students and his job; his symphony took a back seat.
The school demanded more and more from Mr. Holland.
The job that started out as a music appreciation class evolved into the creation of a school orchestra. That evolved into the creation of a high school marching band. That evolved into directing a school musical.
Each evolution seemed to be an insurmountable task and what seemed to be impossible task was met because Mr. Holland had an uncanny ability to to make each student believe that anything is possible as long as you believe in yourself.
...and the symphony that once was a labor of love was eventually put on a to-do list; the to-do list that there never seems to be enough time to complete.
It was not until Mr. Holland was forced into retirement that he finally realized that his legacy was not the symphony he struggled to complete. His legacy was in the students that he taught.
Now....of course this film was not based on actual people or events and any similarities are purely coincidental; or so I thought.
Ed Deavers taught high school literature. He had a unique ability to make students love literature as much as he did.
When the high school marching band needed someone to choreograph the rifle team, drill team, and flag corps routines, Mr. Deavers volunteered. He spent countless hours after school conducting rehearsals. He gave up summer vacations for band camps and marching practice.
When the drama department needed someone to teach the class and direct the school play, Ed Deavers stepped up to the plate.
Ed Deavers eventually left South Cobb High School and over the years taught at McEachern High School, The Walker School, Harrison High School and Kennesaw Mountain High School. His career spanned the 70's, 80's, 90's....all the way through 2010.
On February 12, 2010 Ed Deavers died. He was only 57.
His legacy was not playing the lead in any Shakespearian play, nor was it in any of the awards received by the band as a result of his relentless rehearsal schedules.
His legacy is in the students that were lucky enough to have him as a teacher.
The truly sad thing is that I'm not sure if he ever realized the impact he had on each student that he taught.
Someone created a tribute to him on Facebook.
Mr. Deavers' Opus can be found in reading the comments on his page.
Ed Deavers' Facebook Page
At the time that the film was released, I refused to see it in the theatre simply because critics were raving about it. I figure that's always a dead giveaway that the movie actually sucks. I also had no desire to see it because it starred Richard Dreyfuss. (Can you tell I'm not a fan?)
One rainy Saturday I was extremely bored, so I watched the movie. To my shock, it was actually pretty good.
It's about a frustrated composer that takes a job as a high school music teacher to pay the bills while attempting to complete his labor of love: a symphony. A symphony that will become his legacy.
Months turn into years; years turn into decades.
What was supposed to be a temporary stepping stone to his dream turned into his career. As time moved on, more and more time was devoted to his students and his job; his symphony took a back seat.
The school demanded more and more from Mr. Holland.
The job that started out as a music appreciation class evolved into the creation of a school orchestra. That evolved into the creation of a high school marching band. That evolved into directing a school musical.
Each evolution seemed to be an insurmountable task and what seemed to be impossible task was met because Mr. Holland had an uncanny ability to to make each student believe that anything is possible as long as you believe in yourself.
...and the symphony that once was a labor of love was eventually put on a to-do list; the to-do list that there never seems to be enough time to complete.
It was not until Mr. Holland was forced into retirement that he finally realized that his legacy was not the symphony he struggled to complete. His legacy was in the students that he taught.
Now....of course this film was not based on actual people or events and any similarities are purely coincidental; or so I thought.
Ed Deavers taught high school literature. He had a unique ability to make students love literature as much as he did.
When the high school marching band needed someone to choreograph the rifle team, drill team, and flag corps routines, Mr. Deavers volunteered. He spent countless hours after school conducting rehearsals. He gave up summer vacations for band camps and marching practice.
When the drama department needed someone to teach the class and direct the school play, Ed Deavers stepped up to the plate.
Ed Deavers eventually left South Cobb High School and over the years taught at McEachern High School, The Walker School, Harrison High School and Kennesaw Mountain High School. His career spanned the 70's, 80's, 90's....all the way through 2010.
On February 12, 2010 Ed Deavers died. He was only 57.
His legacy was not playing the lead in any Shakespearian play, nor was it in any of the awards received by the band as a result of his relentless rehearsal schedules.
His legacy is in the students that were lucky enough to have him as a teacher.
The truly sad thing is that I'm not sure if he ever realized the impact he had on each student that he taught.
Someone created a tribute to him on Facebook.
Mr. Deavers' Opus can be found in reading the comments on his page.
Ed Deavers' Facebook Page
Thursday, February 11, 2010
My Great Moments in Radio History
Here's something I don't think I've ever told anyone.
When I was a teen-ager, I really wanted to work in radio. While everyone else studied chemistry and physics in the hopes of becoming a doctor or engineer, I studied album notes and liner credits.
I rarely bought a 45 rpm record (yeah...showing my age....sue me!). I always bought the album. I would listen to the complete album and then tic off which of the songs would be released as singles and in what order. I was hardly ever wrong.
I am honest enough with myself to know that I definitely do not have a voice for radio. But I loved music and wanted to somehow be a part of it. I thought about being a program director, but thought about it was as far as it ever got.
Trouble is that the only people that make any money in radio are the people that own the radio station and on-air talent. So, there's strike one.
The only way to get into radio is to start out in a small market like South Podunk, Alabama and be willing to work the shift no one else wants, doing the stuff that no one else wants to do, and working every single holiday and weekend. So, there's strike two.
The environment itself is not the most stable, especially these days when radio stations are bought and sold like baseball cards, formats are changed, and staff are hired and fired based on sales. It's a real cut throat industry. So, there's strike three.
I knew by the time that I was 15 that working at a radio wasn't going to happen. Plus, women in radio were a rarity unless you were willing to read news, traffic or weather and like I said...my voice was working against me.
So, I decided to become a part of radio in another way. I began contacting radio stations.
I've compiled a list of my "greatest hits":
WQXI-AM - DJ was Gary McKee and the newsman was Dave Collins. They did this bit called the Birthday show. People called in if it was their birthday or if they knew someone having a birthday. It wasn't my birthday; I didn't know anyone having a birthday, but I wanted to call in. So I placed a call and told them that my limestone cave named Teddy was having a birthday. The guy answering the phone said "Whaaat?" So I repeated it. He asked somewhat warily "..and how old is Teddy?" I said he was two. Sure enough, it got read on air. Both of Gary and Dave started snickering and kept asking what the person answering the phone had to drink the night before. (I think I was about 11, then.)
WQXI-AM - DJs name was Night Train Lane. He did this thing where he let callers introduce songs. I got to introduce this song by Major Harris called "Love Won't Let Me Wait." The song was supposed to be sexy, but I hated it and thought it sucked. Plus I had to stay up until 11:30 to hear myself introduce this thing on AM radio. Since it was AM and they cut the wattage down at 7pm, I could barely make out my introduction because it kept getting blended in with the stations coming out of Cuba. I was also 13 at the time....not a good song for a 13 year old to introduce. Never told my family about that.
WSGC-AM - Not sure of the DJ's name, but he took requests. I was at my cousin's house and the number 1 hit at the time as Elton John's "The Bitch is Back". My cousin mentioned that WSGC would not play "The Bitch is Back" because it contained the word "Bitch." So, I called the radio station and said "Is it true you won't play The Bitch is Back?" DJ said, "Yes....that's right. Is there something else you want to hear?" I said "Yeah....How 'bout the Son of a Bitch is Back?" My cousin and I though it was hilarious...we were 14.
WFOM-AM - I won my first radio station contest! It was to the grand opening of some bar in Cobb County and some band was coming in to play a concert there. The DJ told me that I had to be 18 to win and asked was I sure that I was 18? I swore I was. He told me the tickets would be at the Will Call booth outside the bar. Bring ID and they'd let me in. I was 16....I just wanted to hear my name on the radio....had absolutely no intention of going to the bar.
WQXI-FM - I won another contest! Jeff McCartney was the DJ. Every afternoon he played a mystery song. He'd tell a story about the artist without naming him and then you had to call in and guess the song and the artist. I got a gold pendant from a jewelry store on Roswell Road in Sandy Springs. I went to pick it up thinking it was going to be this big, bright, shiny, gold thing. It was actually a small, gold charm of the 94Q logo. Yes, I still have it.
The Regular Guys Era: I'm a fan of the Regular Guys Show. Both of my sisters in law cannot understand why. They think the show is disgusting, lewd, etc. but I guess I'm sick like that.
One day Larry was griping about the fact that he wanted to move from Gwinnett County. So I sent him an email touting the amenities of where I live: Paulding County. I assured him that we would be used to have a celebrity such as himself living amongst us because several celebrities also made their home in Paulding. I then listed our celebrities: Travis Tritt, Patty Loveless, and Ben the Bunnyman. (Ben, rest his soul, was a resident of Hiram who frequently called into the show. He also had a severe speech impediment and that was part of what made his bits humorous). I also listed our fine eating establishments, making a point to let him know that we had a Waffle House AND a Huddle House, as well as The Hickory Hut and The Catfish Den. And if he wanted nightlife, he needed look no further than Double Vision...the local biker hangout. He read it on air and immediately began snickering at the mention of Ben the Bunnyman and was rightly impressed with my Waffle House/Huddle House double whammy. But I guess I didn't make a strong enough case because he still resides in Gwinexico, as he calls it.
Another time, he put up a message board where people could talk about the show and such and occasionally Larry would post messages on the board, take questions about the show, advertise auctions he had running on Ebay, etc. One time he started up a contest on the board. He would post a funny picture and asked people to post an appropriate caption for it. He posted this picture once of a cross-eyed man smiling....he had no teeth and big, floppy ears. Some people's captions were stuff like Southside Steve's High Senior Portrait or just ragging on Southside in general. My caption was "I am...99X" (a competitor of 96 Rock and this was their slogan). Contest was closed shortly afterwards and I was declared the winner. My prize? A Regular Guys Tshirt. I gave it to my brother...sister in law was NOT impressed.
Another thing they have is this thing called the FU line. You dial the phone number, record your FU message to whomever or whatever p*ssed you off and they played it on air. I decided to do a big ole FU to the local Kroger. Their crime? They had these little yellow kiddie carts that kids could push to "help" mommy shop. The problem was that the kids usually just ran up and down the aisles pushing these darn carts, knocking over endcaps, plowing into other shoppers, etc. So I FU'd Kroger for having these kiddie carts. It was played on air, and Larry actually agreed with me and FU'd Kroger, too.
I've left out the Neal Boortz years...nothing bad, but just more to write and it's time for bed. But those are the milestones of my illustrious career in radio.
When I was a teen-ager, I really wanted to work in radio. While everyone else studied chemistry and physics in the hopes of becoming a doctor or engineer, I studied album notes and liner credits.
I rarely bought a 45 rpm record (yeah...showing my age....sue me!). I always bought the album. I would listen to the complete album and then tic off which of the songs would be released as singles and in what order. I was hardly ever wrong.
I am honest enough with myself to know that I definitely do not have a voice for radio. But I loved music and wanted to somehow be a part of it. I thought about being a program director, but thought about it was as far as it ever got.
Trouble is that the only people that make any money in radio are the people that own the radio station and on-air talent. So, there's strike one.
The only way to get into radio is to start out in a small market like South Podunk, Alabama and be willing to work the shift no one else wants, doing the stuff that no one else wants to do, and working every single holiday and weekend. So, there's strike two.
The environment itself is not the most stable, especially these days when radio stations are bought and sold like baseball cards, formats are changed, and staff are hired and fired based on sales. It's a real cut throat industry. So, there's strike three.
I knew by the time that I was 15 that working at a radio wasn't going to happen. Plus, women in radio were a rarity unless you were willing to read news, traffic or weather and like I said...my voice was working against me.
So, I decided to become a part of radio in another way. I began contacting radio stations.
I've compiled a list of my "greatest hits":
WQXI-AM - DJ was Gary McKee and the newsman was Dave Collins. They did this bit called the Birthday show. People called in if it was their birthday or if they knew someone having a birthday. It wasn't my birthday; I didn't know anyone having a birthday, but I wanted to call in. So I placed a call and told them that my limestone cave named Teddy was having a birthday. The guy answering the phone said "Whaaat?" So I repeated it. He asked somewhat warily "..and how old is Teddy?" I said he was two. Sure enough, it got read on air. Both of Gary and Dave started snickering and kept asking what the person answering the phone had to drink the night before. (I think I was about 11, then.)
WQXI-AM - DJs name was Night Train Lane. He did this thing where he let callers introduce songs. I got to introduce this song by Major Harris called "Love Won't Let Me Wait." The song was supposed to be sexy, but I hated it and thought it sucked. Plus I had to stay up until 11:30 to hear myself introduce this thing on AM radio. Since it was AM and they cut the wattage down at 7pm, I could barely make out my introduction because it kept getting blended in with the stations coming out of Cuba. I was also 13 at the time....not a good song for a 13 year old to introduce. Never told my family about that.
WSGC-AM - Not sure of the DJ's name, but he took requests. I was at my cousin's house and the number 1 hit at the time as Elton John's "The Bitch is Back". My cousin mentioned that WSGC would not play "The Bitch is Back" because it contained the word "Bitch." So, I called the radio station and said "Is it true you won't play The Bitch is Back?" DJ said, "Yes....that's right. Is there something else you want to hear?" I said "Yeah....How 'bout the Son of a Bitch is Back?" My cousin and I though it was hilarious...we were 14.
WFOM-AM - I won my first radio station contest! It was to the grand opening of some bar in Cobb County and some band was coming in to play a concert there. The DJ told me that I had to be 18 to win and asked was I sure that I was 18? I swore I was. He told me the tickets would be at the Will Call booth outside the bar. Bring ID and they'd let me in. I was 16....I just wanted to hear my name on the radio....had absolutely no intention of going to the bar.
WQXI-FM - I won another contest! Jeff McCartney was the DJ. Every afternoon he played a mystery song. He'd tell a story about the artist without naming him and then you had to call in and guess the song and the artist. I got a gold pendant from a jewelry store on Roswell Road in Sandy Springs. I went to pick it up thinking it was going to be this big, bright, shiny, gold thing. It was actually a small, gold charm of the 94Q logo. Yes, I still have it.
The Regular Guys Era: I'm a fan of the Regular Guys Show. Both of my sisters in law cannot understand why. They think the show is disgusting, lewd, etc. but I guess I'm sick like that.
One day Larry was griping about the fact that he wanted to move from Gwinnett County. So I sent him an email touting the amenities of where I live: Paulding County. I assured him that we would be used to have a celebrity such as himself living amongst us because several celebrities also made their home in Paulding. I then listed our celebrities: Travis Tritt, Patty Loveless, and Ben the Bunnyman. (Ben, rest his soul, was a resident of Hiram who frequently called into the show. He also had a severe speech impediment and that was part of what made his bits humorous). I also listed our fine eating establishments, making a point to let him know that we had a Waffle House AND a Huddle House, as well as The Hickory Hut and The Catfish Den. And if he wanted nightlife, he needed look no further than Double Vision...the local biker hangout. He read it on air and immediately began snickering at the mention of Ben the Bunnyman and was rightly impressed with my Waffle House/Huddle House double whammy. But I guess I didn't make a strong enough case because he still resides in Gwinexico, as he calls it.
Another time, he put up a message board where people could talk about the show and such and occasionally Larry would post messages on the board, take questions about the show, advertise auctions he had running on Ebay, etc. One time he started up a contest on the board. He would post a funny picture and asked people to post an appropriate caption for it. He posted this picture once of a cross-eyed man smiling....he had no teeth and big, floppy ears. Some people's captions were stuff like Southside Steve's High Senior Portrait or just ragging on Southside in general. My caption was "I am...99X" (a competitor of 96 Rock and this was their slogan). Contest was closed shortly afterwards and I was declared the winner. My prize? A Regular Guys Tshirt. I gave it to my brother...sister in law was NOT impressed.
Another thing they have is this thing called the FU line. You dial the phone number, record your FU message to whomever or whatever p*ssed you off and they played it on air. I decided to do a big ole FU to the local Kroger. Their crime? They had these little yellow kiddie carts that kids could push to "help" mommy shop. The problem was that the kids usually just ran up and down the aisles pushing these darn carts, knocking over endcaps, plowing into other shoppers, etc. So I FU'd Kroger for having these kiddie carts. It was played on air, and Larry actually agreed with me and FU'd Kroger, too.
I've left out the Neal Boortz years...nothing bad, but just more to write and it's time for bed. But those are the milestones of my illustrious career in radio.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Bachelor: Week Two Recap (Sort of)
Just to save two hours that I won’t get back, I only watched the last half hour. Here’s what happened (along with what I’m guessing happened).
Bachelor selects one girl to take on a date….just the two of them. All the other ho-bags are PEE-UUSS-ED (with a capital P). They immediately begin trashing her behind her back.
Bachelor divides remaining girls into two groups to go on a group date. The ho-baggiest of the skanks run back to their rooms to put together a slutty ensemble in order to showcase the boobs that their parents bought for them for high school graduation.
The remainder begin squalling that even though they’ve only known this clown for a couple of days, they already know that they want to have his babies. One will be a boy named Jake, Jr…they will have a little girl named Jakeyln, and another little boy named Ed DeWayne. Ed DeWayne will be the one that winds up in jail. (Ever notice how a lot of criminals are named either Wayne, Duane, or DeWayne?)
Jake and Slutty Group one go somewhere to play and eat. I’m guessing the beach and a luau. They play for a little while, swim, eat, etc. Then for the next half hour, each ho-bag grabs him by the arm, takes him away from the others, tells him how trashy the rest of the girls are as opposed to someone like herself, then gets royally po’d when another girl walks up to take him away to tell him how slutty the girl he was just talking to is.
Jake and Slutty Group two go somewhere to play and drink. I’m guessing a pool hall and beer and wine for everyone. Everyone gets drunk, someone pukes and someone passes out. At this point, just like before, the remainder of the girls take turns grabbing him by the arm to tell him which of the other girls were brought to him by the letters S, T, and D.
Jake and his solo date go somewhere. From the commercial, it looked like a private concert.
At some point, one of the girls is given a rose so that she is considered “safe”.
Now to the part I actually saw.
It turns out, the girl that was given the rose is, in fact, a GEN-U-WINE HO-BAG!! She had a hookup with someone on the production crew at the same time she was making her move on Jake!
The Godfather (aka Chris Hansen) calls her out…figuratively AND literally. To make a long story short, he said he wasn’t calling her a ho-bag because that would be an insult to ho-bags….BUT considering the fact that she and her skanky self became a little too intimate with a crew member, she could just pack her ho-bags (pardon the pun) and wait for the skank bus to pick her up and take her back to skank town. (OK…Chris was a little nicer than that.)
She didn’t say much…she didn’t have too because her eyes said it all. I believe her eyes said something like this: “EFFF EEWWW and the horse you rode in on Chris….you little bee-otch!”
She goes and tells the other girls she’s leaving. For some ungodly reason, a couple of them begin crying because all of a sudden their BFF is leaving.
Then Chris tells Jake what happened. He’s po’d and can’t believe he was cheated on!
Jake….weren’t you listening? All of them told you that all of the other girls were sluts!!
So, Jake pulls himself together and he and Chris walk into the room and tell the other girls what happened. All of them act surprised and sad, but secretly they are all just so giddy they could pee their pants.
Jake begins handing out roses…keeping a dozen bee-otches and sending three home.
And who did he keep? Why the resident crazy gal!!! Her name begins with the letter M and she has psycho eyes. All the while he was handing out roses, M was giving him the evil eye and muttering to herself. He FINALLY handed her his next-to-the-last rose.
I figure he’ll keep her around until the meet the family episode; which is a shame because I’m envisioning my own little episode. She would begin by telling him that there is no family to meet because they all died of the H1N1 virus.
In reality, she has them all tied up down in the basement because they were all going to tell Jake to head for the hills because she had escaped from the local mental hospital several months ago and until these new episodes of The Bachelor began airing they had no idea what happened to her. Just as they were going to call 911, she burst in the door with knives and guns, tied them all up, gagged them, and kicked them down the basement.
Jake shows up, so she takes him to her bedroom.
She has a lifesize cutout of Jake, copies of his school yearbooks, baby pictures, his graduation picture, all of his school transcripts, a game called JAKEOPOLY, and a formal portrait of Jake complete with a halo and a candle burning beneath the portrait.
As Jake scans the bedroom walls he sees more pictures….pictures of all of the other bachelorettes with the requisite horns, beards, and mustaches drawn on each of them….along with the words DIE, DIE, DIE!!! And slowly M turns to him and says….”Jake….I’m your number one fan.”
Cue “Psycho” theme!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Christmas with Little Sh*t (Continued....)
When we last left LS, he....well, just scan down and read the previous post to catch up.
Well, I'm assuming that Marilyn's Christmas Eve menu met with LS's girlfriends approval because I scanned the police reports in this week's edition of the Elberton Star and nothing was mentioned in there; all of the people in the obituaries were in their 80's and 90's so the menu mustn't have killed her.
Unless, of course, LS either has some sort of weird grandma fetish or he found himself a sugarmama I'm going to assume that none of the women in the obituaries are his girlfriend.
So, the next day my uncle goes over to Casa de Little Sh*t for Christmas dinner. (Even though the house technically belongs to his grandparents, LS for all intensive purposes has set up squatter's rights by parking his truck, his jeep, his boat, his other boat, his two jet skis and a host of other junk over there.)
Oh yeah....he bought ALL of that crap. Here's the kicker: his mom had to stop by LS's bank on the way to her parents house to deposit money into his checking account so he wouldn't be overdrawn.
I have no idea what happened to that branch of the family tree, but I swear ain't NONE of them got any sense.
The elliptical had already been given to LS's grandparents and LS was off sulking in a corner. The elliptical was in another part of the house.
So, my uncle asked the question we all were wondering? What did they think about the elliptical?
Lenny said that you had to push so many buttons (timer, program, calorie burner, etc) to get the dang thing started that just thinking about it made him tired.
The other issue was that they couldn't figure out how to program the calorie burner. Apparently there was a way that you could plug in certain types of foods and the burner would tell you how long you had to use the elliptical to burn it off.
Since they bought the machine used, it did not have the owner's manual with it and so apparently LS had spent the entire morning trying to program the burner with no success. (Hey....LS...you can probably find a manual if you remember these four words: Google is your friend.)
My uncle was about to offer his advice, when LS said he didn't want to hear it because he was already sick of that piece of crap. (Hey....LS....that piece of crap was YOUR idea!)
At about that time, my cousin Ellen enters the room completely exasperated.
"LS.....go in there and make Kevin (her brother) get off the elliptical." (Just for the record, she does not call her own son Little Sh*t but I didn't want to put his real name out there.)
LS just sat there and stared at the wall.
Ellen hollers at the back part of the house "Kevin....don't tear it up the very first day. LS....go in there and make Kevin get off the elliptical."
Now....picture this scenario:
Say out loud "Kevin...don't tear it up the very first day. LS....go in there and make Kevin get off the elliptical" in the most whiniest, nasaliest voice you can and repeat that sentence about ten times. It was then that my uncle realized what hell might be like.
Apparently, for whatever reason, Kevin had gotten on the elliptical and was using it incorrectly. He was facing BACKWARDS and attempting to use it.
He eventually got off of it...whether it was to shut my cousin up or he just got tired but he did get off the machine.
Then my uncle was treated to this sentence from Ellen for the next ten minutes:
"Kevin....you're not mad at me for fussing at you, are you?"
Kevin just ignored her.
So, here's a quick recap to wrap it all up. The elliptical wasn't that big of a hit. LS was p*ssed off for unknown reasons. My guess is that he was expecting to get a NEW elliptical and wound up with a used on that wasn't as nifty as the one he had envisioned.
My uncle said Christmas dinner was nice...but it would have been more enjoyable if my cousins and LS had spent it somewhere else.
Ellen got somewhat ticked when she found out that my uncle, LS's grandparents, and Kevin had all received Christmas cards from my parents and she received nothing. (Ellen...here's a clue. In order to send you anything, it would help if we knew your address. Google isn't your friend if you have a fairly common last name and tend to move around a lot.)
Well, I'm assuming that Marilyn's Christmas Eve menu met with LS's girlfriends approval because I scanned the police reports in this week's edition of the Elberton Star and nothing was mentioned in there; all of the people in the obituaries were in their 80's and 90's so the menu mustn't have killed her.
Unless, of course, LS either has some sort of weird grandma fetish or he found himself a sugarmama I'm going to assume that none of the women in the obituaries are his girlfriend.
So, the next day my uncle goes over to Casa de Little Sh*t for Christmas dinner. (Even though the house technically belongs to his grandparents, LS for all intensive purposes has set up squatter's rights by parking his truck, his jeep, his boat, his other boat, his two jet skis and a host of other junk over there.)
Oh yeah....he bought ALL of that crap. Here's the kicker: his mom had to stop by LS's bank on the way to her parents house to deposit money into his checking account so he wouldn't be overdrawn.
I have no idea what happened to that branch of the family tree, but I swear ain't NONE of them got any sense.
The elliptical had already been given to LS's grandparents and LS was off sulking in a corner. The elliptical was in another part of the house.
So, my uncle asked the question we all were wondering? What did they think about the elliptical?
Lenny said that you had to push so many buttons (timer, program, calorie burner, etc) to get the dang thing started that just thinking about it made him tired.
The other issue was that they couldn't figure out how to program the calorie burner. Apparently there was a way that you could plug in certain types of foods and the burner would tell you how long you had to use the elliptical to burn it off.
Since they bought the machine used, it did not have the owner's manual with it and so apparently LS had spent the entire morning trying to program the burner with no success. (Hey....LS...you can probably find a manual if you remember these four words: Google is your friend.)
My uncle was about to offer his advice, when LS said he didn't want to hear it because he was already sick of that piece of crap. (Hey....LS....that piece of crap was YOUR idea!)
At about that time, my cousin Ellen enters the room completely exasperated.
"LS.....go in there and make Kevin (her brother) get off the elliptical." (Just for the record, she does not call her own son Little Sh*t but I didn't want to put his real name out there.)
LS just sat there and stared at the wall.
Ellen hollers at the back part of the house "Kevin....don't tear it up the very first day. LS....go in there and make Kevin get off the elliptical."
Now....picture this scenario:
Say out loud "Kevin...don't tear it up the very first day. LS....go in there and make Kevin get off the elliptical" in the most whiniest, nasaliest voice you can and repeat that sentence about ten times. It was then that my uncle realized what hell might be like.
Apparently, for whatever reason, Kevin had gotten on the elliptical and was using it incorrectly. He was facing BACKWARDS and attempting to use it.
He eventually got off of it...whether it was to shut my cousin up or he just got tired but he did get off the machine.
Then my uncle was treated to this sentence from Ellen for the next ten minutes:
"Kevin....you're not mad at me for fussing at you, are you?"
Kevin just ignored her.
So, here's a quick recap to wrap it all up. The elliptical wasn't that big of a hit. LS was p*ssed off for unknown reasons. My guess is that he was expecting to get a NEW elliptical and wound up with a used on that wasn't as nifty as the one he had envisioned.
My uncle said Christmas dinner was nice...but it would have been more enjoyable if my cousins and LS had spent it somewhere else.
Ellen got somewhat ticked when she found out that my uncle, LS's grandparents, and Kevin had all received Christmas cards from my parents and she received nothing. (Ellen...here's a clue. In order to send you anything, it would help if we knew your address. Google isn't your friend if you have a fairly common last name and tend to move around a lot.)
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