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  • OMGIT’SHUGE!

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    Allow me to quell your fears. This blog entry isn’t about what your dirty little minds think it’s about.  So there.

     Now, on with the story…

    It was a weekend just like any other weekend, with the exception perhaps that it was Fourth of July weekend. However, since July 4th has absolutely no bearing whatsoever on this tale, we’ll stick with, “It was a weekend just like any other weekend.” All good? Terrific…

    On this particular weekend like any other weekend I had been doing elebenty-gazillion loads of laundry just like any other weekend. However, I was finished with laundry, so I don’t guess it has any real bearing either, other than the fact that I had “specially washed” one of the O-springs garments sans fabric softener because she was on a mission to dye it a different color. Of course, what with the spring being a little to the young side for handling stuff like dye and hot water without dying the whole room, adult supervision was needed.

    For the record, E K has me doing the laundry, but I don’t dye. Allowing me to dye something would be tantamount to allowing the o-spring to dye something without supervision.

    Anywho… On this particular weekend we had also purchased a new computer for E K. Super fast, loaded with memory, storage, and all housed in a black case to match her shoes and leather wear. E K likes to coordinate, you see. Therefore, we were in the office. I was busily doing whatever it is that writers do when they are working on 57 projects at once. E K was playing Speed Sudoku… Or HALO 17: The Leather-Clad Bitch Edition… Or  hacking NORAD… Or maybe it was paying bills and checking her Facebook profile. I never can keep any of that straight. Either way, we were engaged in office type computer activities, and the spring was watching the toob — that is, right up until her program ended and she had a sudden, powerful desire to dye the aforementioned garment.

    No… She didn’t try to do it herself. That would be way too predictable… Come on… You know me better than that…

    Acquiescing to the Tween Urgency of the project, E K sent the child on a mission. That being to go into the basement and retrieve the large bucket we use for whatever sorts of things one might require a large bucket. And so, off the o-spring went to “haz a bukkit.”

    Two minutes, seventeen seconds elapsed when we suddenly heard a door fly open, followed by a running child – the herd of elephants noise was then followed up by a herd of wildebeests bounding up the stairs toward the office. The louvered doors split, swinging inward with enough force to cause a sonic boom. The silence in the wake of the sound barrier being broken was quickly filled with a panting child.

    Gasping for breath she yipped, “OhMyGoshIt’sHUGE!!”

    I remained silent. I knew better than to get involved.

    “The bucket?” E K asked.

    “Nothuhbuuug!” Child-o-mine replied.

    E K puzzled aloud, “The what?”

    Our tween panted some more, then gulped in some air and yelped, “There’sAGiantBugDownThere!”

    E K found this to be funny. So did I. But that’s not the funny part I’m here to tell you about.

    So… E K says to the spring, “How big is this bug?”

    “OMGIT’SHUGE!” the kid replies.

    “Really?” E K says.

    “YES!” the wild-eyed child tells her.

    “It’s been raining,” the redhead explained. “It’s probably just a water bug.”

    You see, our basement is an unfinished, leaky, storage/laundry hole in the ground. Whenever it rains, we get water, and maybe even some water bugs.

    Now, as we know, for E K this isn’t a really huge issue. If it’s a bug she likes, she picks it up and moves it to a safe, out-of-the way, natural habitat sort of location, and then threatens anyone in the general vicinity with death if they even look like they might be intent on harming the insect. However, if it is a bug she doesn’t like it still really isn’t a problem – and she does, in fact, have a list of bugs she doesn’t like. It’s a short one, but it’s a list nonetheless.  Either way, in the event of the bug being on her hit list, she just puts on her patent leather cockroach killers and goes to work with a wicked gleam in her eyes and a smile on her lips. It’s pretty much the same as how she deals with men, except that as a rule, when it comes to men instead of insects, I’ve never seen her set one free, move him to safety, nor protect him from harm. Quite the opposite, actually… But I digress. This is about actual insects, not figurative ones.

    The o-spring, however, hates ALL bugs. She fears ALL bugs. She would be perfectly happy for ALL bugs to be eradicated from the face of the planet. Hence the fact that she was now standing in the office hyperventilating.

    But back to the dialogue…

    “IT’SHuuuuuuuuuggggggeeeee!” the child repeated, not really placated by EKay’s explanation for its presence in the basement.

    “Did you see it on the floor or on the stairs?” EKay asked.

    “Onthefloor!” the short person replied.

    The redhead shrugged and said, “Okay, well the bucket is on the shelf right at the bottom of the stairs.”

    O-spring returned, “IknowIWasDownThere!”

    “Well… Did you get the bucket?” E K asked.

    The child thought for a second, then with the first inkling of calm she had shown since hurtling up the stairs, she delivered the punch line: “Wellllll… I SAW the bucket…”

    Fifteen minutes later we held a funeral for the water bug. After we scraped him off the sole of EKay’s pump, of course. What with him being a water bug and all we flushed him. Seemed fitting.

    After all that you have to wonder if he “Saw The Bucket” too… I’m thinking he probably did. Right before he kicked it.

    More to come…

    Murv

  • You Get HBO On That?

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    Eighteen year old girls can be a lot of fun.

    Okay… Let me stop you right there you dirty minded monkeys. That is NOT what I am talking about. I am talking about being an uncle to a niece who just turned eighteen and the hilarity that can ensue at a family gathering… Especially when said uncle makes his living with words, and moreover, he’s me. (Hey, nobody else was patting me on the back, so I have to do it myself…)

    At any rate, we just had a family gathering to celebrate the “fourth quarter birthdays.” We used to do a separate party for each, but as the family grew – and aged – it became hard to schedule multiple gatherings each month and still have time for things such as, oh, I dunno… Work. Sleep. Grocery shopping… you know. Extracurricular activities of a sort. I know that makes us a bit selfish, but it’s just one of those things…

    But, back to the story. Among the fourth quarter birthdays is that of one of my nieces, and as we have already established, she recently hit the “Big One Eight.” Of age to vote, sign legal documents, etc.

    How did she celebrate this milestone? I mean, besides the family gathering, of course.

    She went out and had a hole poked into the side of her nose.

    Now, for the record, I don’t give a flying rat’s arse about that. I see more folks with metal in their faces than you can shake a stick at – and I mean a really big stick. Seriously.

    Now, to be honest, I don’t find it attractive at all. In fact, I find it more than just a bit silly and a whole lot stupid. But by the same token, it ain’t my face, so whatever trips your trigger. I’m not about to think any less of you for it, because truth is we all have our moments of stupid.

    Let me repeat – if you want to impale yourself with ornamental finials and tie tacks, go right ahead. Whether or not I think it is stupid has no bearing whatsoever on whether or not I like you, will hang out with you, or will perform CPR if you are in distress. What I’m saying here is keep your hate mail to yourself. I am not discriminating against you, nor am I being intolerant of you, nor am I repressing you because I think it is stupid to poke holes in your face. I am simply expressing my feelings on the subject, just as you are doing the same by walking around with a diaper pin through your lip and a key fob sticking out of your eyebrow.

    However… If you happen to be my niece and you show up at a family gathering with a hunk of metal sticking out of the side of your face, you should expect repercussions. I cite the following –

    Merpizm 11/21/10: “If you say something stupid, I’m going to make fun of you. I expect no less when the roles are reversed.”

    ~ M. R. Sellars

    The above quote also applies to DOING as well as saying…

    And so, my dear niece arrived at the party. I had already heard that she experienced much disappointment in the fact that her Grandparents – and even her parents – had eschewed comment on her proboscis bauble. Since she, like all of my other nieces and nephews, is a pretty cool kid, I felt bad for her, in a sarcastic uncle sort of way, of course.

    Merp – Hey… Niece… C’mere for a sec.

    Niece – What?

    Merp – [cocking head to the side for a better view] You set off metal detectors with that thing?

    Niece – Yeah… Right… Very funny, uncle Murv.

    Merp – So… How’d it happen?

    Niece – What do you mean?

    Merp – Horrible explosion at the jewelry counter and you didn’t duck soon enough? Or did you just fall on it or something?

    Niece – It didn’t “happen.”

    Merp – You mean you did it on purpose?

    Niece – Yeah. It’s how I celebrated my birthday.

    Merp – Really? I ate lasagna and cake to celebrate my eighteenth. I didn’t poke holes in my face.

    Niece – I didn’t poke holes in my face.

    Merp – Ummm… I hate to tell you this but you have a hole in the side of your nose. That’s part of your face.

    Niece – I mean I didn’t do it myself. I had a professional do it.

    Merp – A professional… You mean you paid someone to poke a hole in your face?

    Niece – Yes.

    Merp – Seriously? How much it cost you?

    Niece – [pulling back hair to show something akin to Trigger’s horseshoe sticking out of the top of her ear] Well, for the cartilage piercing and the nose  piercing it was fifty bucks.

    Merp – Wait… You willingly had TWO holes poked in your head in order to celebrate your birthday?

    Niece – Yeah.

    Merp – And you paid someone fifty bucks to do it?

    Niece – Yeah.

    Merp – I wish you’d called me first. I’ve got a hole punch at home and I would’ve done it for free.

    Niece – [Laughs]

    Merp – Really. In fact, I’ve got a three hole punch. I would’ve done three all at once, no charge. I even would’ve sterilized it first.

    Niece – Yeah… right. These holes are smaller.

    Merp – [Shrugs] No problem. I’ve got a stapler too. Next time you want to put a hole in your face let me know. I’ll bring it along.

    Niece – Funny. Right now I’m thinking about getting a tattoo.

    Merp – Really. Now you want someone to draw on you with a motorized needle?

    Niece – Maybe.

    Niece’s Mom – Where are you wanting to get this tattoo?

    Niece – On my foot.

    Merp – What’re you gonna get?

    Niece – I don’t know yet.

    Merp – Well, if you’re gonna get it on your foot, have ’em put Rue Britannia on the bottom of your foot and call it good.

    Niece – Why?

    Merp – So you can be just like Bullwinkle.

    Niece – Bull who?

    Merp – Bullwinkle. You know, Rocky. Bullwinkle. Moose and squirrel. Watch me pull a rabbit outta my hat…

    Niece – What?

    Merp – You don’t know who Rocky and Bullwinkle are?

    Niece – I’m only eighteen.

    Merp – If you’re old enough to go out and have a hole poked in your face, you’re old enough to know who Rocky and Bullwinkle are.

    Niece – [Redirecting] It would hurt to get a tattoo on the bottom of your foot.

    Merp – Sugar, I’m here to tell you it’s gonna hurt no matter where you get it…

    Niece – [Sigh] You know, it’s just an earring.

    Merp – What is?

    Niece – [pointing at gas cap on the side of her nose] This.

    Merp – Oh… Honey… You must’ve missed a biology class. That’s your nose, not your ear.

    Niece – You know what I mean…

    Merp – I think maybe your stupid hasn’t worn off yet.

    Niece – What stupid?

    Merp – The one that overtook your brain when you willingly paid someone  to stab holes in your face.

    Niece – They didn’t stab holes in my face. They used a needle.

    Merp – Okay. So did you have to shove a cork up your nose for them to push it into?

    Niece – They didn’t use a cork.

    Merp – Well how in the world did you fit an apple up there?

    Niece – [Attempting to remain indignantly eighteen but her  “OMG Uncle Murv” sigh is overcome by her own laughter]

    Merp – Did they give you an instruction guide booklet with that thing?

    Niece – No.

    Merp – No? Well what happens if you get a booger caught up in there? How do you know what to do?

    Niece – I sneeze.

    Merp – Then I guess if someone is sitting on your right they should duck so you don’t shoot their eye out if that thing flies outta the side of your nose, huh?

    Niece – The post is at a right angle.

    Merp – Pointing up or down?

    Niece – Up.

    Merp – Well there you go. That just makes it easier for boogers to get caught on it.

    Niece – I have a friend who has one. I’ll just ask her.

    Merp – A booger?

    Niece – A nose ring.

    Merp – I really think you should go back and ask for the instruction guide booklet. I mean, you paid fifty bucks and all…

    I could go on, but I’m already over one-thousand on the word count, and I’ve heard that shorter blogs are “in” these days. Suffice it to say, the razzing went on for better than an hour while her younger sister sat and listened. After all that I’m pretty sure we won’t have to worry about her setting off any metal detectors when she hits eighteen. Not at any family gatherings where Uncle Murv is present, anyway…

    More to come…

    Murv