BEER IN THE ASS ISN'T AS APPEALING AS IT SOUNDS

So ... yesterday, after church (yes...Uncle Bob goes to church...wouldn't SOME PEOPLE'S parents be shocked???)

You know who you are... "some people"....

The one whose daddy doesn't like me.

You know who you are....the one who's so "scandalous".

Yeah...you.

*grin*

Anyway...went to church yesterday. Our preacher and his wife just adopted a little baby about ten days ago. Well...the baby's ten days old. He was pretty much promised to them before his birth and I'm not sure of the exact date of the adoption, SO WE WILL SAY FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT that he was adopted ten days ago.

...M'God...you people are SUCH sticklers for details...

Anywhooo...Mama didn't come to church yesterday because she was home with the baby after a night of off-again, on-again sleep. Since they adopted the kid in Los Angeles, I hadn't seen the baby. Since I wasn't invited to the baby shower (Because I have a penis) I hadn't seen the baby. Since I'm an impending father in waiting, I HAD to see the baby.

Soooo...dejected that I hadn't seen the baby, I offered to stop and get lunch and go over to the preacher's house and bring them lunch.

They politely accepted, and we went to Schlotsky's Deli (Funny name...suck-ass sandwiches) to buy everyone lunch.

Y'all would dig my preacher. He's 26 years old...hell...he still has zits. His wife is cute as well. Not fantasy material (c'mon...anyone who whacks off while thinking of his preacher's wife DESERVES to go to hell...)but she's cute and has a great personality.

We stop and get the sandwiches and run over there to deliver them.

The preacher's already in t-shirt and shorts and in cussing mode.

That's right...once he's off the pulpit, the guy even cusses.

Well...he said "What the hell" once.

But that counts...right???

Anyway...that's why I like him. Not that he cusses...but he's cool.

DOUBLE Anyway...we get over there and the baby's a doll.

He's mixed race...black, white and Mexican. So his skin is like the color of refried beans. Beautiful complexion though.

And he SOOOO dug his Uncle Bob.

I got to hold him. Christ...what is it about tiny baby's necks that freaks men out??

Even the preacher said he was freaked out about it.

It's like their necks are made of jello. Of course, I grab the baby in my arms and forget all about the neck.

His head bounced off the table twice before I realized the kid had ZERO neck support.

"Hold the baby's head," his new mama said, really frantic and shit.

"Yeah right," I scoffed. "You'd better have this kid checked out or take him back and get a new one or something. Because his neck is all broken."

They all (meaning the preacher, his wife, Susie and the kid) informed me that ALL KIDS have shitty necks when they're born.

Oh.

Well...I'm glad someone told me this before my kid was born. So much for teaching him how to balance textbooks on his head before he's a month old.

Anyway...it was pretty cool. You know...holding an actual baby and all.

I STILL have never changed a diaper though.

All that will be changing in about four months though.

God help me.

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I've been wanting to write about this for some time now, but always forget to do so.

There's this older couple that I see every morning when I walk the dog.

I have no idea what their names are, but I've unofficially dubbed them "That Guy and His Wife".

EVERY SINGLE MORNING, I see them from a distance approaching me and Maggie. As we all get closer, there's that feeling that we HAVE to talk.

Okay...let's say you pass the exact same stranger every morning. And this stranger is the first person that you actually speak to each day. And the passing is only for a few seconds. And after doing this every day for six months, you've run out of things to say in passing.

So what the fuck do you talk about???

For us...it's always That Guy saying something ignorant about my dog, and me agreeing.

Let's say Maggie is sniffing some other dog's shit. That Guy will say something like "Looks like she's sniffing shit."

And I say "Yep."

Or let's say Maggie's peeing. That Guy will say something like "Looks like she's peeing."

And I say "Yep."

Or let's say Maggie's ferociously gnawing at That Guy's leg as he walks by because she's sick of his dumb comments every single morning. That Guy will say something like "Looks like she's gnawing on my leg because I'm a dumb ass."

...You get the picture...

At first it wasn't so bad. But now ... I dunno ... I get the heebie jeebies when I see the couple.

The lady never says a word. She just smiles and keeps walking like if she says something, That Guy will smack her head off for stealing his thunder.

One of these days, That Guy is going to make some stupid obvious comment, and I'm going to have to Hulk out on his ass.

THAT GUY: "Looks like your dog is walking."

UNCLE BOB: "Shut up Fuckwad, before I officially walk all over your boring, elderly ass."

That day is coming, my friends. Because I'm tired of saying "Yep."

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I cooked Beer In The Butt Chicken last night. First ... because the name really cracked my ass up. I couldn't wait to tell the preacher, "We're having Beer In The Butt chicken tonight."

Second, because it sounded so good.

Kids ... don't try the recipe at home.

A) It wasn't that tasty at all. I have much better recipes than this one if you need a recipe for smoked chicken.

B) Second ... you wouldn't BELIEVE how hard it is to get a whole chicken to stand up on a grill with a can full of beer up its ass. My chicken stood for about 30 seconds by itself before it tumbled over on the grill and spilled most of the ingredients out all over the grill.

I have a feeling the chicken was humiliated that it was being forced to not only die for my carnivorous sins, but that it was having a stinky concoction mixed together in a torn open can of beer and then jammed so far up its ass after its death that it would spend the rest of eternity in chicken hell.

Regardless...the recipe wasn't as great as it sounds.

...If beer in the butt chicken actually sounds REMOTELY tasty to you like it did me.

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That's it from me. Have a GREAT day. Thanks for reading and hey...thanks for all the kind comments directed my way lately.

It's not ME who rawks...it's YOU PEOPLE!!!