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.)