Thursday, May 28, 2009

Love is...

crouched in the corner
mumbling while gnawing a fish
This is the Smeagol

So I met my half brother this weekend. Apparently while my dad was stationed overseas he made sweet love to a Kraut and then I am assuming hid her in his duffel bag and snuck her into the United States, which was the immigration policy in the 70s. No, that's not very nice... but he did meet her in Germany, and they divorced soon after when apparently he realized he loved the taste of pure ebony or she realized it was him peeing in those 3 liters and leaving them by the bed, either way...

I showed him the picture of me in the tutu, he seemed disgusted but then his wife informed me he had worn a grass skirt and halter top once, so maybe it runs in the family.

JJ apparently walked in on Toboggan Boy and Mystical making sweet love the other night, that HAS to be traumatizing. That got me to thinking though about one of my fave stories about my oldest son, you listen now!

My oldest boy talks. A lot. He always has. I am assuming he will make a fantastic politician, as he can literally talk any human being or animal that is not fast enough to escape into a coma or acquiescence, whichever comes first. He does NOT get that from me. I am a shy fella!

Anyway, I guess he was about 2 or so, he was the only kid we had so that sounds about right, and it was a commercial break so me and the Mrs. were getting frisky before she made my dinner (I so wish that was the case, the truth is she finally got tired of me jerking it on her when she walked by and I made my own dinner. But this way it sounds manlier). We assumed, wrongly, that Matt was asleep in his playpen/ kennel, securely wrapped in a walmart bag next to an ashtray full of smoldering cigarettes (what?! It was 2002 we didn't know that was wrong!), and were getting into it, much to far into it to notice he had silently gotten out of his bindings and was standing at the edge of the bed looking on in utter bewilderment at what Dad was doing to Mom.

Of course we stopped, and informed him I was trying to help her as she was choking on something, and the mule, midget, Jose Cuervo and sombreros were for CInco de Mayo. He seemed to accept this (for once) and pattered away, probably to color some more on the fucking walls. Dang kid.

Anyway, not a big deal, happens to all parents, right? Well remember a few lines ago when I informed you all that he LOVES to talk? We were at the local Wal-Marts, purchasing numerous items for a junkfood marathon (ah those were the days), and we were standing in a long line, as it was VERY busy. We get to the front, and the cashier is flirting with Matt, sure he's a cute little bugger, when he informs her "I saw my Mom and dad wrestling NAKED and my Dad was winning!" When he said "naked" his little eyebrows went up and he said it an octave higher... my wife went beet red and was about to turn to hush him up, but I figured I would stop that. I informed him "No, you are mistaken sir...", to which he responded "Yeah-huh! I saw your butthole!"

The cashier had stopped bagging our groceries and was laughing so hard she looked like she was going to die, and that was the last time we shopped at the Gladstone Wal-Mart.

No word from Smeagol lately, I wonder why he is avoiding me? As far as I can remember I had not insulted his thong or anything, what gives? Maybe he is waiting for me to forget the movies and games he "borrowed" last time he was here.

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