Archive for category funny
Inevitably in my family if we get together long enough, the dick jokes and dirty innuendo come out. We have a small subgroup among in my family who will declare loudly that everything we say is awful and we should be ashamed, but secretly they are right with us and we usually take a jab they might need to get some.
I don’t know if they feel some parental obligation to fight it, or if they just want brownie points to keep them out of hell.
It was no different with my little cousins. I’m not sure if its due to the fact I recognize them as no longer the darling cherubs of their childhood, but young adults on the adventure of life or not, but I’ve never felt the need to scold them for anything they wanted to say, except perhaps the sibling hate speech to one another. I’d love to carve that out like cancer. They’ve never held back either.
As the evening progressed I kind of wish we’d migrated to someplace involving couches and coffee and/or wine so the chatter didn’t have to ever end. The topic of sex and relationships of course came up. The little sister firmly declared she didn’t care for sex and would rather not do “that” for the most part.
My quick reply was of course that she must be doing it wrong, which seemed to be our eldest aunt’s problem as well.
I might be biased…
No, no… I’m not. Little sister is fucking gorgeous and has suitors from both sides of the fence that would be more than happy to lick the bottom of her boots if she asked them. She has no clue the vast power she possesses. In this, she is much like her half-sister. The difference being is her half-sister does understand her power and has used it quite a lot in her life, often to disaster, and only toning it down in recent years.
Don’t get me wrong, the older sister is beautiful, tall and graceful. But there is just this something some people possess that seems to render those around them completely subjugated. Helen of Troy would have HAD to be one of these people. I have about three cousins (suspect four, but that one keeps it firmly under control so I cannot verify), all female, who have this ability as well.
The older sister seems to be exploring her oats these days. I see a ton of myself in her while she spoke of some of her relationships and alluded to conquests. She wants so much to open her heart to something real, and from the sound of it, to one in particular, but she is equally fearful of being rejected so she keeps this wall up. It bites you in the ass when you cannot be vulnerable, you just come off as ice cold because people eventually get tired of trying to get over that wall.
I had to smile because some of the things were almost verbatim to things I’d declared at the same age, so utterly convinced I’d had this relationship shit all figured out.
I hadn’t a clue.
By the time I could even think of how to respond, it was time to pack it in and leave.
If anything I wish I could tell her that you cannot make your heart tough enough to withstand the hurt of having it broken if you don’t expose it to the possibility of having it loved thoroughly first.
Building walls, only turns what’s inside to mush… useless and unspent. Exposure is what makes it more malleable, adaptable, bendable… not breakable.
You never really regret trying. You regret when you don’t.
One day after New Year’s, one of my little cousins contacted me out of the blue and asked what we were doing. I say “little,” but she’s in her twenties and quite tall. Her ADHD sister is just into drinking age and as their mom says, “works a million jobs.”
I also say “little” since most of my first cousins are around my age, middle age… the sag-starting era when then there’s almost nothing left that’s perky or buoyant and its all downhill from here. These were the last of the first cousins and they are closer in age to our children than to us.
I babysat the older one when I was still a teenager during the summer while their mom ran around and did her high profile corporate thing. Their dad is the one who is my blood relation and I probably would have traded him for their mom in a second if that were possible. He died a few years after my mom did.
He was a phenomenal cook and really a genius. We have a lot of high IQ’s (his was in the mid-160’s) in our genetic line, but the ability to apply this to something substantial or fulfilling seems to elude most of us. I include myself in that. He especially was mostly a financial drifter. Before he met their mom, I don’t remember him ever having a consistent address, job or phone number.
I do remember the “work camp” gran took us to every Saturday afternoon for a few months to bring him a picnic basket and have lunch with him. He wore a jumpsuit like everyone else, their “uniform,” but wasn’t allowed to leave the premises. I might have been about ten at the time but I do remember the razor-wire fence. I asked a lot of questions and didn’t get a lot of answers. It was the most permanent address I’d ever known him to have and I’m not sure when it finally dawned on me, years later, it was a prison.
He also lacked a lot of impulse control. He was never motivated by greed so much as curiosity. The type who would break into a school and steal shit, just to see if they could, or steal a car and go on a joy ride only to get bored and move on to something else, never remembering where he left it behind. He had a lot of run-ins with the law in his youth, and it ended up haunting him into adulthood.
His eldest kid, half-sister to the two little ones, is three months younger than I am and looks more like my mother than I ever have (I unfortunately got the Grand genes).
Her young mom was about seventeen when she was born, did the best she could, but smoking pot and teaching your kid how as a bonding experience isn’t exactly what I’d call an ideal environment for a child. Combine that with the impulse control of your father, and it was a recipe for disaster.
It’s weird, but I always felt like if I’d not been around, she might have had a better chance because maybe Grand could have taken her in instead. But then, I’m not exactly sure my childhood was better, so much as just different. I was raised by a crazy person, her mom was young and broke. It’s kind of a toss up. Personally, I would have given anything to have had my mom instead. So maybe I have this all wrong.
Her dad, my uncle, wasn’t much a part of the picture. Even when his eldest would come to visit, she stayed with gran and me. She might have lunch or dinner with him once or twice, or have an afternoon, maybe once overnight, but for the most part, he was a ghost.
When my cousin, who I will dub Knievel, was around, I knew we were both going to get in a lot of trouble. I just hoped to the keep out of the law side of trouble, though we brushed against that one too.
For some reason, I could never deny her wishes, I remember arguing logic with her many times, but I also remembering doing whatever it was I didn’t want to do anyway. I have never been prone to any kind of peer pressure, in school or otherwise, but my cousin could make me cave like a souffle during a stampede.
I smoked pot the first time at fourteen from the pressure of said cousin. I remember how terrifying some of the shit we pulled was and sometimes, the rush of it. I could never, ever be like that my entire life, I would have caused myself a heart attack before college, but it broke my safety shell in a ton of other more beneficial ways in my interactions with other people.
Maybe her and her dad were seeking the high of it. Maybe life is just too dull and muffled for some and they don’t know a better way to seek out any kind of sensation. I can’t imagine feeling like life on its own just wasn’t enough or I just wasn’t able to make contact with it as everyone else seemed to. She grew out of it eventually, well mostly, but not before paying a price that will stay with her forever.
I hate to put it this way as well, but she was a terrific liar. She could talk herself out of a speeding ticket in no time, and probably convince them to give her a siren led escort to her destination. She could wile her way into any place with a simple hair toss and a few words. She is the kind of person who could spin and weave a tale that would put you in the midst of an epic adventure. If she was the one recanting the Lord of the Rings, she’d make you believe it all happened in downtown New York ten years prior. Or yesterday.
To this day, I tell her she should write, and keep writing. She laughs, perhaps from lack of self-confidence or she really just finds the idea amusing, but I cannot imagine not being one of her biggest fans if she’d just try.
Her dad… Her dad met what would become the mom of my little cousins and became the dad Knievel always wanted, deserved and never, ever had. He was doting, carted them around, was proud and attending, showed up, bucked up, and grew the fuck up…but by then his eldest was long grown up. He wasn’t picture perfect, but he was a lot more than he had ever been before.
Ever have times when you feel guilty for something that has nothing to do with you?
I felt guilty for being his blood family.
I felt guilty for being born.
I felt guilty even though I had a mom just like him. Absent.
I felt guilty because she didn’t have what she should have had from either of her parents.
My aunt was the exact opposite of what fairy tales lead you to believe. She wanted her new stepdaughter around, often. She tried her best to glue back all the broken bits of what gran had destroyed. If there was a center of gravity by which my familial remnants orbited, my aunt would have been it.
I watched as Knievel tried so hard to both rail against this new element, and simultaneously try to embrace it. She was getting real face time with her dad for the first time in her life, but only by the influence of someone that wasn’t her. My aunt was just impossible to hate, my cousin was truly loved and for the first time in her life, spoiled by her. This didn’t change when my little cousins came along, perhaps the demands for her presence were even more. It’s got to be a turmoil of mixed emotions. That feeling of being an outsider, of feeling like you’re intruding, even if you’re being emphatically welcomed.
You weren’t wanted by the ones you wanted before, why is it different now? Why wasn’t she enough to at least be around some?
Now that he has passed, my aunt has still not changed, still tries so hard to stay connected to her stepdaughter, sometimes she’s successful, sometimes not.
I wonder how much things might have been different had my uncle said he was sorry about anything, even once.
So with all the goings on, I did have my last bit of blood work to find out how my bizarre dieting and other bullshit had played out. I still don’t know on the weight front, they did mention I dropped quite a bit, but I can feel it coming back right now as my stress has increased and I’m desperately trying to get that under control.
I know for a vast majority you probably don’t give a shit, but I did want to at least round out my constant ranting about diet, weight and diabetes with this update at least.
This time last year, I’d been on diabetes meds for just a couple months and my A1C was 8.5 in December 2015. Normal is 6.7 and below.
This last checkup in December of this past year, I was sent my results, with which they sent the ones prior to that because confusing the shit out of me is apparently how they get their rocks off, but once I got the charts figured out, my A1C was….
I’m fucking normal.
No seriously, I’ll scan you a copy, there is finally something with my name on it that says I’m fucking normal.
So yeah, was terrified they might take me off the medication just because of the results, but they called in a renewal instead. So for now, just focusing on the stress, and not stabbing a bitch, and working on the next thing, moving without pain. Woot!
I believe in an earlier post I described socializing with the Yankee, and getting to know the Hippy. the Hippy and I especially have been bonding a great deal. Hippy was rather distracted and irritable during our stellar Excel class, more so than the exemplary education we were receiving could be causing, so we teased her quite a bit about the possibility of her being pregnant, no less due to the extremely picky and insatiable appetite she had going on the entire day. Hippy even mentioned at one point she’d name it after me with a “McDickface” in there somewhere if that happened to be the case.
Hippy lives with her boyfriend of a couple years. I met him, we bonded in the younger brother from another mother kind of way. He was a great guy and I liked him a lot, saw a lot of myself in him and by extension, I saw a lot of immaturity as well. He’s gruff, brusque, tough fronted, but when Hippy turns her head, his expression changes to something very tender. She has often started using me as her boyfriend interpreter.
They’ve known one another since high school, when he was dating a friend of hers. Of course, he tries very hard to minimize the importance of that relationship whenever it comes up with the Hippy, but she knows better and doesn’t let it bug her as it once did. the friend cheated, time went on, and now the friend gets to watch their facebook posts as their life together progresses. Things turn out odd in life.
Spawn’s other parent was an attendee at my wedding. Life has a twisted sense of humor.
So Hippy is pregnant.
They’re not married, had no current plans on even discussing it any time soon as they’ve had a pretty shaky but stabilizing beginning and have now been suddenly thrown into parenthood.
This is pretty much how Spawn came to pass, only when their presence was discovered, I was long over the relationship and had tossed the other contributor out.
I, of course, was a model of decorum when she gave us the news and almost fell on the floor from laughing. I also demanded she agree to keep the name she’d threatened to bless it with in my honor.
So apparently, my 8 weeks is up.
My diet buddy immediately wanted to schedule a celebratory outing at our favorite burger joint. I think diet buddy is trying to make this translate into places of temptation. I’ve already been doing this, but apparently they feared trying it. I wanted to ease back into the real world without going nuts in it.
Personally, I would have preferred a giant boat of fucking sashimi. I haven’t had sushi at all in this time and I miss it. Sashimi is a perfectly acceptable alternative. Sure a flash fried roll of some sort would be awesome, but I’m not there yet.
I mentioned that my eight weeks ended to Spawn when I got home and they just said “huh, well kind of too late to change now after all this effort.”
What a great answer.
I do plan on hitting a wing and ale place at some point, I don’t like potatoes but I like raw fries (floppy, thank you, with loads of malt vinegar) – don’t ask, and although I inhale my food when I eat, I’m eating less overall.
In all, it wasn’t as stellar as I thought it was going to be. There was no nipple scars from chest tape going across the finish line, no cheering, no passing out in the pavement and thanking everything to have to made it. I think my main thought was “huh, that got here faster than I thought it would.”
I’m still not where I want to be weight-wise, of course, this was a tiny amount of time. Yes, my pants are looser, my shirts fit better, the water weight in my legs is finally starting to fuck off and is mostly gone, I’m sleeping better, I’m moving better and with less (not none yet) pain. But I’ve a 6 year jagged track to reverse and I intend to do that in a lot less time.
So although yes, I won’t adamantly abstain from everything now, but this is where the cycling has to begin, My body freaks out when I don’t go by a routine. I was off to a good start because I was doing extreme things it couldn’t predict and plan for. I will have use that information in order to make sure my body stays in a constant state of WTF?! until I’m back to a state I want to be in: High one day, extreme low the next 3, week of normal, two weeks of low cal/carb, etc.
It’s all ok…. because I still have cheese ;p
Schnookums got back in town from their dad’s. Apparently, only for the weekend though and then its off to grandma’s. I used to feel bad that Spawn didn’t have all this extended family to visit and become close to, but then I hear of shit like this and realize I’m glad I don’t have to share because fuck that noise. Had one or both of Spawn’s grandmothers been alive, I would probably barely see the child.
Once again, mom and her brood of three flew in, chatted for a little while and deposited Schnookums into our care. I asked up front if it was ok if they ran a few errands with us. I was told that was fine, but to please limit them to only one soft drink as they felt the caffeine might worsen the seizures. I was conned into two the last time, so when we both looked over at Schnookums they just silently nodded in agreement like a villain who got off scot free.
It started off as a silent breakfast, apparently the hyper-interactive side had not been able to present itself in Schnookums for a while, so they were adjusting to be around us again. My mind and ears started wandering over to the geritol table beside us where they were discussing some trip with a friend by the name of Richard apparently.
Then I leaned over to Spawn where Schnookums could hear and whispered, “they’re talking about Dick.”
Both kids erupt into snorts.
Then we all kind of tuned into the geritol squad where they went on about having several good pictures of “Dick” and how they had copies made of those and passed them around.
Needless to say, we were in tears for a good twenty minutes or so.
Schnookums:”This is the best breakfast ever.”
And the floodgates of chatter opened once more.
Spawn and I played rock, paper, scissors to see if we would be going to the music store (I had needs) or the art store first (Spawn has been commissioned to paint a picture for a co-worker with a new house). I won and Schnookums got a lesson in local music stores and how awesome they could be. They picked a couple of cd’s themselves even, one of which was My Chemical Romance. I’m not a fan, mostly because I’ve only heard blurbs of a couple songs and it really didn’t pique my interest too much, but when Schnookums found it and got excited, I leaned over to see what it was and said “you know the lead singer writes comics, right?”
Schnookums:”Whoa, no way! Really?”
Schnookums and Spawn are currently writing a comic. In fact, Spawn is currently storyboarding Schnookums’ story. So this was like finding out your idol is your idol twice-over.
We went all over the store, Spawn almost physically dragging me out when they saw the stack of cd’s I’d accumulated. It has been too long since I’ve been and I have time to make up for. I even placed an order for items they didn’t have, something I tend to do more than I like to admit. Schnookums was having a great time, and I told them they need to show their mom this place when they got a chance.
I decided on a classic as the first song when we got in the car, a truly enriching cd to play. One both educational as well as entertaining, one that epitomized the youth of my era.
The first track? Smack My Bitch Up by the Prodigy, of course.
(BTW, probably NSFW, I’ve not seen the video, so be warned)
The art store always sucks me into an infinite vortex of possibilities. Schnookums asked if they could run to the bathroom. I gave a vague direction of where they were usually located and they were off. Spawn went to scout out canvases. I wandered a little, but found the two checking canvases in the back of the store. I asked Schnookums if they found the bathroom, only to be told they didn’t need to go anymore. I’m worried that a backed up bladder is going to somehow bring on a seizure or something only to be told:
Schnookums:”Actually, I just wanted to look around.”
me:”Why didn’t you just say so?”
Apparently, this is how Schnookums gets away from mom and brood when they want some solo time.
Schnookums found out quick that in our dynamic, I’m the one who usually wanders off to who knows where, at one point Spawn demanding that I stay nearby.
me:”But I found furry skull pillows! I need these!”
Spawn:”No you don’t!”
me:”Then you can pay for your own crap.”
Spawn:”I would but I forgot my wallet”
I was told to turn the Prodigy cd down on the way home and the kids once again played video games when we arrived. Schnookums created a character that was based loosely on our fatass cat named Munchkinsquishytush or similar. They ran it around at first and asked other players “tell me I’m cute.”
Before we were due to meet Schnookums, I had already tried to install a few games on my computer, ones they could play together, mostly online. Of course as soon as I went to run them, most wanted to do a five hour update or some bullshit, so that idea was blown out of the water before it had a chance. Those two never minded though.
Oh yeah, my belated birthday gift to myself was a gaming computer. It’s red and glows. Spawn is jealous. They can suck it.
Somewhere during their reverie, the heat and over exertion of the puny a/c’s in our shitty little house kept tripping the breaker. I don’t know what fucking electrical idiot decided to put over half the house on one circuit, but if I ever meet him, I’ll rip his dick off and make him eat it.
I’m only a little angry, I promise.
So of course, our computers are on that circuit, which means we can’t even get more than one AC to run and stay running, as soon as we flipped the 2nd, the breaker trips again… and again… and again. It’s a very muggy 102 outside at the time. We’re hating life.
Spawn and I did a little testing and find out there are about two or three outlets NOT on the one damn circuit but nowhere near our desk. So, another trip out to Lowe’s where I grossly overestimate the length needed and get the 100 yd one, “just in case.” But, it solved our problem and kept us cool and going.
While we were out, I asked if they were hungry (it’s been hours since breakfast by this time) to which I got a resounding “yes!”. Again, I introduce Schnookums to yet another local favorite, a burger joint that looks like a warehouse from the outside and only has one small sign in the back parking lot, behind a tree. You find it by word of mouth only.
And for the folks who have been following my diet quest, yes this was a high calorie day for me. The next was protein shakes and a bag of salad mix to even it out. By high, meaning I had a bacon spinach omelet and a piece of rye for breakfast, a cheese burger with no bread, with a side salad for dinner. No shakes, unsweetened tea and water. I was kind of pained from the amount actually, but so good.
Schnookums opted for a ghost chili burger. They lived to regret it. They ended up having to eat their burger with a knife and fork like i was doing once we scraped as much as the cheese off as we could.
I was glad this time Spawn was a bit past the brooding silent observation they had the first time I met Schnookums. I wasn’t sure if it was irritation we were getting along or just that initial hesitation that Spawn can get when a new element is in their territory. Spawn adores their BFF a lot for example, but only likes to be around them in limited doses. I can tell when they have had enough of even me as they will don earphones and find a corner to have quiet time.
Schnookums asked me to tell them when we got sick of them, but I never responded. They melded into our world pretty well so I really didn’t have my usual amount of exhausted overstimulation either. Maybe I’m getting a thick skin to it. Like last time, it was their mom who finally decided they were coming to get them.
Schnookums has a chromebook that has been inoperable for a while, so I had a rescue thumbdrive ready this time. I also put a bug in mom’s ear that a gaming machine could be had for less than a laptop from the right spot. Then showed them the right spot. Apparently, mom was just as aggravated with the uncle who didn’t follow through as much as Schnookums was. Schnookums was promised usage of the laptop mom didn’t use, and Schnookums and Spawn arranged to try to play together later.
Spawn and I have been craving pizza like mad. Pizza in and of itself and the toppings I like on them, NONE of them are bad. It’s that mutha effin’ crust that kicks a diabetic’s ass.
I found one recipe on dietdoctor.com for a pizza with a crust made from cheese and egg.
This doesn’t even remotely sound appetizing to me so I held off and kept searching.
Then I found this one:
I’d never heard of the Fathead movie. I did watch the movie Supersize Me that it was made to openly mock though. Of course, what I got from the latter was:
- McDonald’s had unhealthy food (no shit, sherlock)
- His girlfriend is all about vegan
- Diet can make a huge impact
I completely agree with the first and last and don’t give a shit about the middle one. It got a lot of backlash because he didn’t post a log of what he ate, didn’t use some scientific method, was full a shit on the whole panic part where his doc and gf begged him to stop… hell, I don’t know. I got the vibe it was meant to shock and create a frenzy of fear in America’s overall health, but I tend to not really get sucked in easily and I tend to agree that diet makes a huge impact.
I just tend to lean to the side that low carb (what Fathead trumpets) is the better impact, for me. If gluten-free, vegan is your jam, then that makes an impact for you. Johns Hopkins and their high fat diet that treats epilepsy… awesome. Anytime someone takes a leap to change what they already consume to treat the bad things they feel, I tend to think that is a smart move even if its not completely successful. But there is never one answer to everything or everyone.
All I knew is my ass wanted pizza. So we made this and topped it with bacon, chicken sausage, portabello, and although I wanted to put spinach on it, we didn’t have any.
I had to use a little more almond flour than listed to get a doughy enough feel to start spreading it. Spreading also ended up being more of an oiled hand quickly patting it into a pizza like shape as I didn’t have the paper. I didn’t have to poke any more holes in it after 8 minutes and I wasn’t able to hold it to eat it. I will probably play with another egg and a bit more flour or more cheese. I dusted it with sea salt and garlic, fresh oregano, basil and Spawn tossed some rosemary on it for fun.
It fucking rawked, taste-wise. Even with a fork, it felt, smelled and soothed our soul like pizza.