My weird-ass "Nuclear" Family

 This is my weird-ass "Nuclear" Family :

(I cut out Darrell not because he's not "Family" - just not in this particular version and I really wanted to make sure I used some awful pictures)

We certainly don't fit the mold of any family I've ever seen but there aren't many portions of our lives that can really be classified as "normal" anyways, so why should this be any different?

My weird ass "Brother" Trever Lee,

Every good story starts at the beginning so, here's a crappy one :

Trever's dead. Don't feel bad - he was pretty unhappy. Plus, there's enough people that feel bad to make up for you letting this one slide. This is mostly Trever's family, but we've always been close and so we kinda just melded. He's the Captain of the Ship and he's responsible for bringing this little motley crew together. Trever died in August of 2013 but we talk about Trever in the present tense. This is because he has made it apparent to us, enough times and in enough ways that if we were to ignore it at this point - we'd be the dicks. And we ain't no dicks! 

"How?"

"I don't know."

"What about...?"

 Shut up. We don't care about whatever you were going to ask. We don't really care how anyone else feels about this because they don't have to live with us. 

I like to think that Trev and I are still partners out here and he mocks me continually.

My weird-ass "Sister" Tiffany:

Tiffany married my brother and now she's my sister. I hated her guts and I swear she smelled like old socks when I first met her but, I like to think Trever whooped her into line(since being a woman she is incapable of having independent thoughts)over time. We live in the same house and have on and off for a year or so now. We split bills, beat Jayla and do all kinds of weird stuff (shut up, before you start) that people in our position don't always do. And, that's fine.

 Tiffany's weird but she's alright when she's not being all dumb.

My weird ass "Neice" Jayla :

Jayla is the only girl on this planet (besides Emma Thompson and that chick in Silver Linings Playbook) that I would personally murder anyone, with the exception of Government Officials of rank 10 or above, on this planet for. She's cute and funny and she don't take crap from nobody(were kinda working on that last one). I hope she drops out of high school and then invents a spaceship or something.

I'm not her Dad but I'm there a lot. I sing love songs to her(she hates it), I argue about the importance of Dischord in My Little Pony (He's very undervalued) and I'll probably be the person she calls when she thinks she's pregnant. 

I can TOTALLY imagine my life without her. It has more money, less ridiculous fights and screaming and its nowhere near as happy.

Me,

I'm dumb as hell. 

So, this is us. I'm not married to Tiff but I live with her and I love her and I'll never date her. Jayla's not my daughter but she thinks (its a fact, don't test it) I'm stronger than anyone on the planet. She can't wait for me to pull up with my loud car and go buy her a stupid ass Skylander. 

We don't fall under a demographic.

We're nobody's target audience.

They don't make a stick figure family for us.

But we're family. We always will be. I'm with them and they're with me.

Anyone wants to be involved in our lives - this is what we're all about.

We wouldn't take normal if you paid us.

I think the Cancer might be Smarter.

I like it on the couch in Italy where I am going to be for 16 months which is also how far I am and I crave INTELLIGENCE!

    Okay, let's not be retarded. No one likes breast cancer and no one thinks that we should stop researching breast cancer. However, let's at least have a little class. Breast cancer is a terrible, life changing, debilitating and often fatal affliction. Are we really so base of a society that we are going to bring awareness to the mothers and sisters in our lives who have been stricken with this contagion with these ridiculous campaigns that they have been as of late?
     If you think that even ONE person was enlightened because you changed your status to "I like it on the couch" you are out of your blasted mind. Follow me on this logic train for a moment : The idea is clearly pointed at men, right? Because these guys who are so stupid that they are about to walk into your trap BUT smart enough to fall the proverbial trail of bread crumbs you are attempting to leave. So you're pervy, sex-addicted, trolling through women's Facebook status updates looking for something to start his party, Guy Friend happens upon your status. "Oh, my" he thinks to himself. "Janet likes it on the couch... BUT WAIT A MOMENT! Janet is a fine, upstanding young lady and she would never post such a thing!" Then (we'll call our friend Chet) Chet notices that several other seemingly upstanding young women have done the same. We assume that Chet, his mind glazed over in a sex-fueled haze, will break free from what he's thinking about (WHICH IS WHAT YOU PUT!) and now begin to research why they have typed this, then we hope that Chet magically floats past all the ridiculous posts that were put there by the women who started this,  to figure out that they are talking about their purses! Now, we hope that Chet, Mamma's little genius, who has decided to ditch the scummy robe and slippers has his slacks and has found his reading glasses. Chet has found that this campaign was a mere sleight of hand to get him to research something much more important - breast cancer. Now, the final (and surely the simplest!) step, we expect Chet to DO SOMETHING. I'm not sure what. Buy a bracelet, donate some money, cure cancer, the motives are unclear. In reality, the entire mission is unclear.
    Which is my problem with this entire operation. The motive, even the point is completely muddied and trampled by this farce of an advertising blitz. I do think everyone should be aware of the problem, for certain, but I think that trying to capitalize on sex to gain momentum - it just doesn't even make sense. Even if it wasn't morally and ethically wrong, you can't sexualize cancer. It doesn't work. You can't encourage me to donate but showing me a hot rack.
       An experiment : Grab any random guy off the street and yell "Breast Cancer" in his face. He'll probably give a grimace, step back and walk away scowling and irritated. Now, grab that same guy and yell, "Boobies" in his face. Now, he gets red in the face, probably giggles and looks away embarrassed. You see, I'm no neuroscientist but I'm certain that the part of our brain that thinks about the devastating effects of cancer and the part that likes "boobies" are completely different.
       So, go ahead. Make my favorite football players wear pink gloves and shoes and helmets. Go on TV and tell me (or better yet a WOMAN) to get a mammogram. Show me a woman with a bright future cut short, or show me a woman whose life was saved because of funding to a Breast Cancer Research group. But don't laden my Facebook with thinly veiled "places you like it" or "Where you're going to be for the next 16 months".

Patrick : The Bald Paintbrush

              

          Once upon a time there was a bald paint brush named Patrick. Patrick’s life was absolutely miserable. People don’t often understand how tough life could be for a bald paintbrush. You see, everyone has a purpose in life. Paintbrushes are used to create art. They help people unlock their creative abilities and to express themselves in a way words could not possibly. However, Patrick was useless. He had no hair, no bristles, no real point for existing and he knew this. The other children would mock him and beat him up. His only source of joy was knowing that the bullies got splinters as they beat him senselessly. Obviously, Patrick deserved it. Nerds deserve to be beat up. In fact, anyone weird or different should be beaten and ridiculed so that they will conform to the standards that we all hold dear and sacred. Patrick did have two friends who were equally pathetic. A conjoined twin alligator named Joey and Mitch the lit Match. Oh, how they were hated by the school.

                One day, Patrick decided to church up his image. He watched the movie Grease with his mother and saw the T-birds prancing around singing about making out and scoring. Patrick wanted to score so bad! “That’s It!” He thought. “If I had a leather jacket then I’d be cool!” He was wrong. Children can sense losers. It’s known as the “sixth” or even “seventh” sense depending on the circles you run in.

                The next day Patrick pranced his merry way to the playground thinking that all his dreams were about to come true. He was wearing the most exquisite black leather jacket. It was covered in chains and zippers and as far as leather jackets go, this was a beauty. But children are more intuitive than we often think. They see straight through fancy clothes and zippers to the loser beneath. It was mere seconds before the bullies were on him pummeling him with new rage. How dare this loser try to act cool? What could he possibly be thinking? The bullies were relentless as they taught Patrick the lesson he should have already known. Some tore the jacket into pieces while others were busy making him eat the various zippers and chains.

                Patrick had a determination, though. He knew that he had no purpose but still he pined for acceptance. “If only I could be loved”, he thought as he struggled to his feet. That was when he saw her. Like an angel, glowing in the door way. Brenda the Broom standing near the entrance to the girls bathroom, a shocked look on her face.

                She rushed to help him up. With tender love and care she helped him to the girls bathroom. There she tended to his wounds with all the diligence of a new mother. Patrick was overjoyed. Somehow his pain was so much less when this beautiful girl touched him. As she tended to him he gazed lovingly into her eyes and knew that this was it. He would give anything to have this young woman with him for all his live. “Brenda,” He said longingly. “Will you be mine?”

“Of course,” whispered Brenda. “I’ll be right back, I have to get some more bandages.” She winked at him as she left.

                Patrick was ecstatic over his new love. He sat there swimming in a daze, nearly unconscious daydreaming of marriage and all the little paintbrushes they would have. The possibilities were endless and he could finally see the light at the end of his very dark tunnel. He was so dazed, in fact, that he did not hear Brenda as she called out. “I found the nerd!” She yelled. “He was watching me in the bathroom!”

“Thanks, babe,” said the biggest, ugliest bully, smacking her on the butt as he rushed past. “Snuck into the girl’s bathroom so you get a peek at my girl? You’re gonna pay for that!”

                Patrick did not think it possible to receive any more vicious of a pounding than he had received to that point. He was wrong. The brutality of the attack combined with his heart and soul being crushed by the lying succubus, Brenda, was nearly more than he could take. As he lie on the floor being demolished by these bullies, he stared up at the ceiling. He focused directly on the light through the fists and soon his vision began to become a blue dot, growing larger until it engulfed him. All he could see was blue. All he could feel was blue.

                Patrick didn’t know how much time had passed when he awoke. He had vague recollections of the bullies shoving him into the toilet and dousing him in kerosene (“Perfume for your date,” they kept saying maniacally as they poured it over him. “You’ll smell so pretty!”).

                Patrick remembered the blue. What a feeling. He stared into the lights again hoping to slip back into that time but couldn’t quite get it. He knew what to do. “MITCH!” He screamed. There was no clock in the girl’s bathroom and in his state he had no concept of time but he thought it was worth a try. “MIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!” He screamed.

                Mitch came around the corner and Patrick’s plan flew into action. Just as he thought, Mitch, being the good friend that he is ran towards Patrick to help him. “Patrick!” He cried. As he picked Patrick up, flames jumped from Mitch’s head onto the kerosene. Flames dancing around them, Patrick again looked into the lights and stepped into the blue.

                The explosion was incredible. The only thing Patrick ever did that was ever noteworthy.

The Moral :         Women are dirty, dirty liars. Don’t trust them.

Welcome to Texas

Echoes

Echoes

A child sits at home

He doesn’t know much

Knows enough to love everyone

Daydreaming of adulthood

Wow I’ll be so big and strong

He smiles

His smile fades as he looks at the man

He’s not Me

I know who I am

Where am I

An old man sits

He has a child on his knee

He looks over his family

smiles

His smile fades as he remembers adulthood

How can you betray yourself

If you don’t know who you is

I wish I knew me then

A man sits in his apartment

Struggling to understand his bit and place

Tears fall on his pillow at night

Who do I be

If he could only see what they see

What would I do if I were me?

-Jim Untiedt

Error 412 : Turn-on Not Found!

               

              Let’s put the lights down low, flip the disco light on, turn a little Boyz 2 Men on and chat for a moment about – kissin. (Cue the ultra-low, black guy voice that goes “ awwwwww yeah”)

Now, look, I know that I am no kind of expert at this. In fact, I consider myself to be quite the amateur. It’s starting to drive me just a little bit crazy though. Firstly, I think people are just watching way too many freaking movies. I don’t care what you’re favorite, wittiest, most beautiful actress loves to do in that romantic comedy that you flip with on with your girlfriends wearing your “cutest” pajama pants, eating Dove chocolates and complaining about how “all the guys out here are jerks”, does. That weird, Pac-man trying to swallow your tongue, acting like you think my tonsils got the antidote, doesn’t really work in real life. You can’t just mush your mouth into mine like you’re a fish trying to get air. I don’t know why it feels that some people go for the “squid in your gaping blowhole I just want to see what you ate for lunch” approach. You’re going to make me barf in your mouth.

Also, this is a kiss not a war. You don’t need to attack my face. You aren’t in danger. There is no need for you to bite and scratch your way down my throat into my gut. Maybe you’re watching a lot of nature shows and you think the wolverine is a very romantic animal. You’re wrong. You’re freaking me out, back off. Now, I gotta delete you from my phone and hope we don’t run into each other anymore. Let’s not do that. It’s awkward.

I’m going to introduce a word at this point – synergy. You hear this word a lot in the corporate world. Synergy: [noun] a mutually advantageous conjunction of distinct elements. This is something we need to bring to the world of kissing. Think about it, why do you kiss to begin with? Is it because you just think you’re so freaking awesome you just gotta show somebody? You opened a starburst with your tongue this weekend and now all your best buds say you must be a good kisser? Let’s not be ridiculous. I would hope that when you’re about to kiss - you have met someone that you like (time is not a factor) and now would like to share an intimate moment with them. So, if you’re SHARING this intimate moment, why then are you acting like my face just became some sort of crazy dance floor and you’re tongues trying to breakdance all over it? If I want to kiss myself, I can slobber all over my bathroom mirror (after I clean the toothpaste off) or my hand would do nicely also. Draw a little face, make a girly voice… don’t worry about how I know this - point is, it’s not difficult.

                Here’s the point : I’m no good on my own and neither are you. Together maybe we can do something nice. I know, you think you’re good. You’ve got a “style”. You had some boyfriend who said he liked whatever you think is “your specialty” now. But I don’t FREAKING care. When you go all crazy all I can think of is the movie Alien with that little popping out of its mouth and I’m wondering where people like you come from.

The Old Ship

                A battle worn and well tested ship floated aimlessly over the ocean current. A curious vessel still very pleasing to the eye, the outside still looked fresh and relatively new however upon further investigation on the inside it was obvious that this ship had been through many harsh storms and visited ports across the world. He was a traveling ship built to travel the seas and go places other ships were either too inferior or too afraid to travel. The ports all wanted him to stay and often cried when he departed. The ship wasn’t sure what his final destination was but he knew he had not found it, yet.

One day there was a tremendous storm, the ship had never before seen such a tempest. He battled through slowly and barely made it out alive. He could barely see the light of the lighthouse signaling him to land and pushed through with all his might. After struggling for weeks and following that small beacon of light, the storm subsided and land was in sight. He sighed at the welcome sight of land. Never before had he been so happy to see such a tiny island.

He docked at the local station, something he had often done, but something was different. This young woman touched him with a touch he had not felt. This ship had been around the world and seen many docks and attendants but no one had ever made him feel this way. For the first time ever, this ship felt like he could stay in this port forever. The attendant would come and give him the attention that he needed, fixing his boards and repainting the surface. They would talk for hours, him telling her of his many travels and her listening intently to his stories of far off lands. As a well worn sea traveler this ship could have a way of sending most females running with a twisted of expression of shock and horror but not her. She actually enjoyed listening to him and hearing him recount these many tales.

Life on land wasn’t perfect, either. This beautiful, young woman had seen her troubles as well. The ship listened to her story of lost loves and ships that turned out to be much harsher on the inside than she had previously thought. He was amazed at how much he actually cared for this attendant, in a way he did not think he was capable. Suddenly, he thought of docking here and becoming a local ship, a thought which had never before occurred to him. He brushed this thought away quickly but it would return just as quickly and soon became like a nest of hornets buzzing around inside his hull urging him to take a chance.

                After a particularly great discussion, the ship had had it. He could no longer take it. “I’m giving it up!,” He told the maiden. “I want to become a local ship here and you can be my full-time attendant. I don’t want to travel to any more ports and I don’t want anymore attendants.” The maiden seemed flattered by this but refused.

                “I can’t stop you from traveling the ports,” She said with a tear. “I just don’t think I’m ready.” The ship was shocked. After all of his travels and the attendants that had cried and begged him to stay, now, he has decided to dock and he was rejected! This couldn’t be! He tried to convince her but it was to no avail. It just wasn’t time. “Perhaps you could travel and return. If you come again I may be ready.” She offered.

                The ship could no longer stay in the port. “I am a traveling ship,” He said, somewhat embarrassed now. “That’s what I’m made for and that’s what I’m best at. I will do my job.” He turned around and headed out of port. As he passed the cove a nail, jutting out of the maiden’s dock grabbed to his hull. Not wanting to stay even one more second he heaved as hard as he could, tearing a jagged gash through his side. It tore him from bow to stern but, fortunately was high enough that he remained afloat.

                The tired ship was wandering again aimlessly through the ocean, his scar glinting in the sunlight. “This is what I’m made for,” He thought. “How could I think any different?”