Pirate Uncle 2--Guns a Blazin'

A few year's ago at my sister's high school graduation party, my uncle Bob attended. My grandparent's were in town from Florida and Bob came over to see his brother, my grandfather.

Now, my grandfather owns a few firearms and for some reason he wanted to bring one of this guns on his trip to Indiana from Florida. However, my grandmother said no, since they weren't sure about gun laws in other states.

Back to the party...we're standing outside talking with my other uncle, Bill, and he says lets go talk to my grandfather and uncle Bob, who were standing around the corner of the garage, away from the rest of the party.

When I walk around the corner I see my uncle Bob pulling a .38 Special out of his pants to show my grandfather. I'm a little skittish around guns to begin with, but especially in the hands of a nipple twisting pirate. What's he going to need a gun for at a graduation party.

"Arrr...what are you staring at potato salad! You'd better watch yourself...or I'll pump your guts full of lead."

1st Annual Boostocky Festival

My fiance's brothers got new cell phones with voice dialing where you said the name of the person you were dialing and the phone would repeat it back to you and then dial the number. They thought is was fun to enter silly names for each other like Douchey McFuckface. One day, when Kelly and her brothers were riding in the car together, the boys were entering stupid things into their cell phones. One of the boys entered "Bukkake".

I'm not going to tell you what bukkake is here. You'll have to read about it here instead. BEWARE!!!

Well, my fiance didn't know what Bukkake was and inquired about its meaning...to much disgust. Her brothers told her that when she gets home she should tell me that her friends invited us to a Bukkake festival. Unfortunately, my fiance was having a hard time remembering the word and it's pronunciation. When she got home she came straight to our office where I was working on the computer. Here's how the conversation went down.

My fiance (with a big shit-eating grin on her face): Hey, how are you?
Me: Fine. What's up?
My fiance: Guess what...my friends invited us to a "Boostocky" festival.
Me: Boostocky festival? What the hell is that?

I was sitting at the computer and decided to Google "Boostocky". After it got zero hits I realized instantly what she was trying to say.

Me: Do you mean Bukkake?
My fiance (laughing hysterically): Ooops...I said it wrong.
Me: What kind of sick fucking friends do you have?
My fiance: I heard it from my brothers.
Me: Oh, well that's OK then.

Don't worry. I've called Japan and let them know that it's now called "Boostocky".

The Pirate Uncle

Everyone has that one relative that seems just a little stranger than all the rest. That one relative for me is uncle Bob.

Bob is my dad's uncle. He's lived in California my whole life. Apparently I met him when I was very young but don't remember.

A few years ago my family, along with my girlfriend at the time, went to a party at my aunt Dorothy's house (Bob's sister), and Bob was in town for a visit. As we got out of the car and walked toward the house I could here my uncle's boistrous voice resonating from inside. We entered the house and Bob greated us at the door with a hearty "Avast ye mateys and shiver me timbers!"

Bob gave my dad a big hug and my dad introduced me to Bob. "Bob, this is Jason," said my dad.

"Ah, Jason, I be Bob... says me, says I," said Bob. "I haven't seen you since you were a little tyke."

"It's nice to meet you," I said, wereupon Bob reached forward, grasped my shirt, twisted, and proceeded to give me t-shirt nipples.

Arrrrr... how embarrassing.

Spawn of Satan

I'm normally a big fan of animals.

Animals are normally a big fan of me.

I've had several occasions where I've met someone's dog or cat and they say, "Wiffles isn't very fond of other people." Then the animal comes right to me and I hear, "Wow, they never do that. You must be special."

Yes...yes I am.

Then there is Spawn of Satan aka Chance aka Chancer, my soon-to-be in-laws' cat. This fucking cat hates my guts. He looks like a cute, tubby, lovable housecat on the outside. Wash away the facade and what appears is an insanely vicious killer that would waste your whole family given the right moment. Never in my life have I heard a cat hiss or snarl with such venom. And that's just when I walk through the front door. When I speak the cat snarls so much it chokes on its own rage.

I've tried to be friends, but he won't let me come within 10 paces. It used to be two or three paces until I tried the fly swatter experiment. I figured since I can't get close enough to pet him with my hand, I'll try using some type of extension. The closest thing was a fly swatter. I think I got two good pets with the fly swatter before he attached it with the ferocity and strength of a 100 lions.

We played this game for a few more visits until I noticed that Spawn of Satan was no longer watching the fly swatter but was carefully calculating the movements of my hand holding the swatter. Since that day it's been 10 paces for fear of losing something vital to my health.

The other day I tried to make up: "Can't we let bygones be bygones. I want to start over Chance...my sweet, sweet Chancer. I love you Chancer."

Spawn of Satan's response: "Rrrrrrr...rrrrrrrrr...fsst, fsst (hiccup)...mmMMRROOWWWRrr (hiccup)...rrrrrr!!!"

Reunited and It Feels So Good

This morning in the shower I decided to name my left hand Francine.

Francine and I used to be great friends from when I was about 12 to 18 years old. Throughout college up until my late 20's I only saw her periodically and we started to grow apart because of all the other girls I was dating.

After I moved in with my girlfriend and later proposed, and she stopped having sex, Francine and I quickly became best friends again. Now we make love about once a day, usually in the shower or while looking up porn together on the Internet.

You're the best Francine. You always know what I like.

The Boys

The Boys are my dogs, Ozzie and Carl. Now, I can't really call them our dogs because they really don't listen to my fiance and they mostly chew up her shit. So they are definitly my dogs.

Case in point: I went away for the weekend for a bachelor party and left Kelly at home with the Boys. When I got home on Sunday evening she looked like hell--tired and irritable. When I called her earlier that morning to see how she was doing the first thing she said was, "I'm exhausted. The Boys won't sleep and won't listen to a word I say! They won't sit, lay down. They're out of control."

Apparently, the Boys didn't go to sleep that weekend, perhaps because I wasn't home and they thought I would be coming home and decided to stay up and wait for me. How sweet!

Here's what I really think. They stayed up all night keeping Kelly awake just to fuck with her. They don't listen to her, at least when I'm not around. When I'm around and she tells them to do something, they usually do it. However, when I'm gone, forget it. You'd have better luck telling a rock to sit, lay down, and roll over.

And the best part is, that evening when I got home the dogs were all hyper, running around and fighting, knocking shit over, just being downright rowdy ... and these are two 80 lb Rottweilers.

They were very happy to see me and were very excited, but I walked them into the family room where Kelly was on the couch in a daze and told them to lay down. They immediately layed down on the floor and stayed there the rest of the evening.

They're such good dogs.

News You Can Use

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Wedding Pictures

This past Saturday Kelly and I went to our friends' wedding. The food was good, music was good, open bar, and many interesting people. One of these people was the 80-year-old wearing a black baby doll dress that looked more like a negligee. What's worse is I witnessed her lifting up the front of her skirt on two separate occasions on the dance floor. From now on, when I want to last a little bit longer in bed, I know what to think about.

One of the things that our friends had at their reception was disposable cameras on every table. This a fun idea, especially after having lots of alcohol and no qualms over what pictures you should take and ultimately who will see them.

That's why my friend Mike and I decided to take a nice picture of me standing in front of a toilet acting like I'm taking a leak with my pants and underwear down around my ankles and my shirt pulled up enough to see my entire ass.

About 25%-35% of the time, if someone has a camera, my ass ends up on it. I remember coming home from college one weekend to go to a friend's party. A couple of weeks later, I get an envelope in the mail from said friend. In the envelope is a picture...a picture of an ass. On the back of the picture was written: "I believe this is yours!"

I suspect I will be getting a similar correspondence in the coming months.

Vital Signs

On the train ride downtown this morning we had to stop at Downers Grove because there was a medical emergency. Immediately everyone in the car gets on their cell phones to inform their coworkers they are going to be a few minutes late...as if their coworkers care. After about 10 minutes the train starts moving again. The conductor gets on the intercom to thank everyone for their patience and to let everyone know that the man should be OK, "He had vital signs."

Falling down

Here's a quick list of 10 things off of which I have fallen.

1. A tractor (resulted in a 2nd degree burn when I grabbed the exhaust pipe to catch my fall)
2. A step ladder
3. Wire fence (got caught on the barbed wire on the way down)
4. A trampoline (during a party with all the cool kids and racked myself on the trampoline frame)
5. Mutiple chairs
6. A golf cart (going top speed and running on gravel)
7. My bicycle (multiple times--the last time at an intersection with tons of people watching)
8. A horse (my foot got caught in the stirrup and I was dragged for about 20 yards)
9. The bed (at 2 years old I landed face first in a plant next to my bed and kept sleeping)
10. A softball (trying to catch a grounder I stepped on the ball and fell face first onto the grass)