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4:37 a.m. - 2003-11-17

THANK GOD IT'S MONDAY

Is it time to go to work yet?

Please?

Can I just go in four hours early so I don't have to see my in-laws anymore?

I mean ... I don't mind working 12 hour days.

If it just means I don't have to get one more fucking hug from these people.

Please?


So hey ... Susie's dad and his wife got to town Saturday afternoon.

Five minutes after they arrived, the rest of Susie's family got here.

Commence the corny jokes and wildly spirited cackling at said corny jokes.

I hung around for about 15 minutes while the scavengers raided our cupboards and refrigerator, saying in their scary monotones "What do you have to eat, Uncle Bob?" "What do you have to drink, Uncle Bob?" "How much of your soul can we suck out, Uncle Bob?"

I then excused myself to go to the grocery store to buy groceries for these ten people.

I hesitated for a few moments to see if anyone would pony up some cash to help out with the grocery bill since feeding ten extra people for a weekend wasn't really worked in to our monthly budget.

Everyone stood there and stared at me.

I left.

I came back three hours later, having gone to my Wherehouse Music store where all DVDs and CDs are now 50% off.

I got "Roger Waters: The Wall Live In Berlin". Haven't watched it yet because I have a houseful of in-laws.

Bought a copy of "Stuart Little" for Andrew to watch when he gets older. We'd watch it now, but talking mice scare the bejeezus outta me.

And I got Season Three of "The Simpsons" which joins my other two seasons of the show proudly on its shelf.

Five discs.

Forty bucks.

God bless bankruptcy.

Went to the store and took my sweetassed time shopping.

Spent $161 on groceries for three days.

$60 of that was meat. Four packages of ribs and three bags of boneless, skinless chicken breasts.

The rest was soft drinks. These fat bastards can put away some carbonated beverages. At one point, the brother-in-law that I like had two going at once. He had opened one can, left it on the counter for 30 seconds and then opened another.

Maybe they thought there'd be some kind of prize awaiting for them inside one special can. Because the sounds of soft drink cans popping open rang throughout the weekend.

Then, to top it all off ... they want to go out to dinner on Saturday night.

I suggested a seafood buffet about 30 miles north of here.

With the idea that if we stayed here in the city, we would have inevitably seen someone I knew and they'd say "Oh. I had no idea you married into a family of inbreds. What nice wide faces they have!"

We get to the seafood place and I end up sitting at the end of one of the tables.

My fat-assed sister-in-law goes back for seconds and as she's squirming to get to her seat at the table, manages to swing her big-assed hips in my direction and knocks my plate to the floor.

"It's a buffet, Uncle Bob," she says. "You can get more!"

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA!!!

Tears of laughter are wiped away from their inbred faces as they all chortle at her little "joke".

Sure, it was more of an observation than a joke.

But these people will laugh at anything.

Case in point...and oooooo boy ... this one was a doozy.

Step-Grandma is told by Grandpa to go to the buffet and bring him back some dessert.

They have chocolate pudding and vanilla wafers on the buffet for dessert.

So she comes back with a bowl of chocolate pudding and two vanilla wafers.

While Grandpa is talking, she makes a "Shhhh!" motion with her finger against her lips and .... SECRETLY HIDES THE PUDDING BEHIND HER BACK!!!!

HA!!!

There's NO WAY you're going to see what's coming!

Don't even TRY!!!

So she walks up to Grandpa and ... I'm stifling my chuckles just thinking about it ... she .... oh God ... get this....SHE HANDS HIM THE TWO VANILLA WAFERS!!!!!

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!

OH HOLY SHIT!!!!

CAN YOU IMAGINE THE HILARITY THAT ENSUED?!?!?

Now, at this point, Step-Grandma is about to bust a gut. She's biting her lip with tears of laughter running down her face as she tries to keep her composure.

Grandpa looks at the two vanilla wafers in his hand and says "Did you bring any pudding?"

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!

The whole table erupts into peals of loud shrieking laughter as patrons at other tables in the restaurant crane their necks to see what's so funny.

Why, it's Step-Grandma's Famous Chocolate Pudding Joke!!!

Don't you people wish you were as cool as Step-Grandma?!?

Meanwhile, I'm sitting at the end of the table holding a conversation with Andrew about Thomas the Tank Engine and wishing with all my might that these morons could quickly cease their laughter so that we won't be thrown out for being dregs of society.

Step-Grandma feels that Grandpa has had enough good natured ribbing over dessert and hands him his chocolate pudding.

Naturally, this makes the table erupt into riotous laughter once again.

I silently pray that my son never turns into one of these people and that I'm able to instill a sense of humor in the kid that's more advanced and sophisticated than what these morons laugh at.

Dick and fart jokes.

That's where the real comedy lies.


You know how I used to rag on my no-good, $6,000-owing, probably gay, loser brother-in-law?

Well ... today he's probably ragging on me.

First off ... I've gotta give the guy props. He's lost 44 lbs. on the Atkins Diet. He's actually looking ... uhhhh...decent. I can't say good because it's not in my vocabulary to say this guy's looking good. But he's looking better.

Anyway, last night, after I had slaved over the grill and in the kitchen all day, I went outside in the backyard last night to get some peace and quiet.

I'm sitting out there in a lounge chair, enjoying the unusually warm November air while the rest of the brood is inside laughing hysterically because Step-Grandma just handed someone a spoon or something equally lame.

The urge to urinate hits me.

Now, I have two options.

I can go back inside where I will undoubtedly be pulled into whatever shenanigans are going on and will once again have to don my fake smile that I've been wearing all weekend instead of this scowl that I've grown fond of outside on the back patio.

Or ... I can pee outside.

It's not really a tough decision.

I go around the corner of the house just enough to where I can pee without anyone looking out a window and seeing me pee.

Ahhhhhh...ladies...you have no idea how luxurious it is to pee outside.

It's so liberating. It's so easy. You don't have to aim for a toilet bowl or urinal or shower drain. You just unzip, whip it out and make sure you pee in a direction that you don't plan on walking towards anytime soon.

So I pee long enough to get the glorious "pee shiver", zip back up and turn around to walk back toward the patio.

As I turn around, there he is.

My no-good, loser-assed, Pink Floyd CD "Borrowing" bastard who never returned the disc brother-in-law.

Standing silently right behind me.

Somehow, while I was standing there peeing, he walked right up behind me with his cell phone in his hand, listening to whomever was on the other line.

My brother-in-law.

The one I've ragged on for over 17 years.

Caught me peeing in my own backyard like a junkyard dog.

There's not much left to say when a situation like this occurs and you're stone cold busted.

I've tried to be so high and mighty for so many years. Not laughing at the family's lowbrow attempts at humor. Not willfully participating in family outings.

And here I was ... pissing in my own petunias.

At that moment, my shit finally stunk.

And I had nobody to blame but myself.

We nodded heads at each other as he lit up a smoke, sat down in the lounge chair that I had been occupying and began talking on his phone.

Meanwhile, I quietly lumbered inside, utterly humiliated.


When the family left last night (all except for Grandpa and Step-Grandma, who are still here until tomorrow), it took them 14 minutes to all hug each other goodbye.

Yes, I timed them.

The damndest thing is ... they're all going to see each other again today. The brothers are playing golf with the grandparents. The kids go to school but they'll all be back here tonight to eat more food, laugh hard at insanely stupid jokes and bitch that there's nothing to do at my house. But these people look for any excuse for hugs.

And I simply don't get it.

They hug every single time they see each other and every single time they part.

It was announced years ago that I'm not a "hugger" and to not hug me more than once per visit.

The rest of the family cannot comprehend why I don't want to hug them. Why I don't want to get into a full-body Vulcan death grip with them every time someone gets in or out of a vehicle.

Or why I don't want to hold my 15 year-old nephew like he's a Korean prostitute.

I swear to you ... this family hugs more than ... well ... I was going to say "all those kids outside Columbine", but that's pretty crass.

And, correct me if I'm wrong, but the grandparents ... they tend to hug much longer than is acceptable in my book.

Grandpa hugged Pervy for a good 30 seconds. A long, hard, full-blown hug.

My grandparents never hugged me like that.

Hell ... they never hugged me.

Maybe that's why I'm bitter and jaded now.

But I'll tell ya what.

I'd rather be a bitter and jaded man now than have my grandpa's hard-on rubbing up against me in front of my family for 30 seconds when I was 15.

That's a pretty easy trade-off in my book.

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