current entry older entries message board contact
5:40 a.m. - 2003-07-22


I distinctly remember my wife saying yesterday morning "I'm going to my mother's house after work to see my family."

I remember this fact like I remember my son's birth.

So I'm driving home last night and I'm exhausted. Worn out. All I can think about is my couch and its softy goodness.

I round the corner to pull into my driveway.

There's three cars in my driveway.

One has a Texas license plate.

You know how if you took a pot, put it on the stove and poured a large amount of blood in it and watched it boil?

That's what was going on under my skin.

The garage door is open. As is the door going into my house, letting in heat and flies.

Inside, there's 10 screaming in-laws, having the time of their lives.

I make a mental note to change the combination on the keyless entry on the garage door and vow to NEVER tell an in-law the combination again.

My office had four nephews in it, watching "Terminator II".

The den had two more nephews, a sister-in-law and a niece watching the Cartoon Network and laughing hysterically. It was the same laugh I'd have if ever I got to watch some renegade bikers torture my in-laws.

Two brothers-in-law were finishing off the bags of chips from the night before, shocked that they had left actual food go uneaten.

Another sister-in-law was in the guest bedroom taking a nap.

And Grandma was on my bed ... drooling on my pillow as she snored the snore of the dead.

You hear about these people that kill their extended families?

I GRIEVE for these killers. The only thing that separates me from them is that they had access to firearms.

"Uhhhhh...what's going on here?" I asked Pervy's Dad.

"We all went to the zoo and thought we'd stop by here," he said, through a mouthful of Tostitos.

"I thought the plan was for everyone to eat at Grandma's tonight," I said.

"Yeah," he drawled slowly. "But the kids wanted to come here instead."


Well by all means ... let's keep those kids happy.

I mean ... after all ... I have a computer that's had files deleted behind my back that they can play on.

I have DVDs that they can watch and crank up so loud that my television speakers are distorted.

I've got a house that they can actually walk through without stepping on dead rats like the home version of "Fear Factor".

I's a no-brainer.

It's just ... well ... I don't know how to put this.

It's just that I hate my fucking in-laws with an unbridled passion because they have no couth, class or manners and they don't act like guests in my house, they act like a roving band of village pillagers.

I really wanted to take a nap but the only bed that was unoccupied at the moment was Andrew's crib. And even that was being used by the family bastard child.

Susie came home minutes after me and actually looked apologetic for all of this.

Meanwhile, Andrew made a beeline for his snack jar to get his afternoon fix of Bob the Builder snacks as this is his afternoon routine.

Why, sure son! I just bought you a fresh box of Bob the Builder snacks yesterday! I'll just open up the snack jar and .....

......No Bob the Builder snacks.

That's odd. There were 12 packages of them in here this morning.


I went to the den where the youngest and fattest nephew was sitting on the couch, absorbed in this Tom and Jerry cartoon with 12 empty Bob the Builder snack bags next to him.

Andrew's screaming "BOB! BOB! BOB!"

El Tubby Nephew-o won't take his eyes off the screen.

"Did you eat all the Bob the Builder snacks?" I asked him.

"No," he said...eyes never leaving the screen. "Daniel ate some of them too."

Daniel swore he didn't. Daniel's mother sat on the couch, howling like a hyena with its foot snagged in a bear trap because Jerry had just hit Tom in the head with an oversized mallet.

I racked my brain, trying to recall a time where I was particularly loaded and mumbled to at least one family member "Mi casa, su casa" in a moment of temporary insanity.

Susie quietly asked me if we had anything to feed all of these people.

I told her that we had plenty of Bob the Builder snacks...oh we fucking don't.

She said they had called her at work about an hour ago, saying they were at the house and that plans had changed and they were going to eat at our house instead of going 40 miles north to Grandma's.

In other words ... Grandma was tired of feeding this gluttonous army of freaks.

Susie had tried to call me on my cell phone but couldn't get through.

The one day I accidentally leave my cell phone at home and this happens. If I had just had my freakin' cell phone, I'd be halfway to North Dakota by now.

I told her everything we had was frozen and couldn't possibly be thawed any time soon.

On the contrary, my friend!

Soon, I had a bag of chicken breasts, a bag of orange roughy, a sirloin tip roast and several kielbasas in a sinkful of cold water.

My brother-in-law thought that he'd be doing me a huge favor by offering to grill all the food himself rather than me having to slave over it.

Oh gosh! That would be wonderful! Take all of my groceries that I had planned for the next two weeks and feed this ungrateful bunch of stinking pimply fucks with it! What a grand idea!

By 8:15, all of the food was finished cooking.

By 8:21, all of the food had been sucked into their guts like the money containers in a bank drive-thru lane.

The fat little Bob The Builder-eating fucker was the only one who spilled his plate.

He just managed to spill it in the middle of the den, sending baked beans to the floor and leaving what is currently one hell of a stain on our new carpet.

His mother did not even chastise him for it. She was too busy eating half a roast.

I went to bed soon after I ate my half a chicken breast and some veggies. I told everyone I was exhausted and to hold it down.

This was at 8:30.

They left about 10:30.

Susie stumbled into the bedroom, eyes bleary and feet weary.

I was too tired to fight with her over this, and it's not hardly worth fighting for anyway.

They are MY family too, whether I like it or not.

But I made her promise...PROMISE....that they would spend their last night in town at Grandma's and not here.

Grandma gave birth to the origins of this tribe and Grandma could feed them. I know Grandma doesn't have the money or room to feed them and I know that nobody else is going to come off any money to buy groceries.

But dammit ... I don't work my ass off to buy groceries for a bunch of surly fucks who look at eating as sport.

Susie agreed.

They are NOT coming over here tonight on their last night in town.


I'm stopping by a pawn shop at lunch and arming myself.

I've always wanted to be on CNN anyway.

0 comments so far
The last one/The next one

NEW!!!Come and write some BAD EROTICA with the cool kids!

My Diaryland Trading Card
Now go write a Suck Ass Poem™
Write me a note here.
Read my notes here.
Hey! Take the Uncle Bob Quiz!
What the hell! May as well take the wildly popular Uncle Bob Second Quiz too!
Thanks Diaryland
Designed by Lisa


Have you read these?

The End Of Uncle Bob - 12:28 p.m. , 2009-02-19

Losing Focus While Trying To Write A Blog Entry Is Cool. - 1:47 p.m. , 2008-12-04

Buck Up Junior, You Could Be Digging Ditches - 11:36 p.m. , 2008-10-31

That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

Return Of The Karate Kid And His Slow Kitty-Lovin' Accomplice - 5:44 a.m. , 2008-10-22

Sign up for my Notify List and get email when I update!

powered by

Click on the button below to order the book "Never Threaten To Eat Your Co-Workers: Best of Blogs" featuring Uncle Bob.
You WON'T be sorry.


Read a random entry of mine.