ok, here goes. my dad has been anxiously waiting for the day i say something about his family. i haven’t before because a. there could be an entire blog dedicated to them and their retarded antics; and b. i have to spend SOME time with my family.
my grandparents on my dad’s side have passed away–my grandmother (grandma) died nearly 8 years ago suddenly (heart attack or stroke) and my grandfather (papaw) died last summer. they were delightful people–my grandmother was very sweet and loved the grandchildren. there are 9 and only one of us is in prison for life. those are pretty good odds right? after their deaths, we stopped seeing each other–not me and my grandparents–that is morbid!–me and the rest of the family. and i think it’s because we have absolutely nothing in common. some of us live in fort worth and some of us live out of state. of the grandchildren i would have to say i’m the most “normal” one of the bunch–my brothers included. and yes, i know that’s subjective. after all, i am the one who thinks “ball sack” is the funniest word on the planet–AND don’t forget my site gets linked with words like puntane and smelly vagina. so “normal” is all relative. and my relatives are not. i’m just saying if my family had to pick out the person who most resembled normal, it would be me. i think. but my brothers probably think they’re normal too. ok, let’s just say that my brothers and i are the most normal of the bunch.
anyway, growing up around my dad’s family always made for interesting conversation later. my dad has 3 brothers and the oldest one is clearly retarded. i used to ask, “is uncle darryl ok? because he keeps asking me how my mom and dad are, and well, you’re both standing right here. who is he talking about?” it seems he was confusing me with my mother. and then he would say, “how old are you now? 19?” and that was when i was 7, 13, 21, 28 and 34. maybe that was the only number he knows? at first i thought he was kidding around with me and i would laugh and play along. then after the billionth time it became clear that he wasn’t joking–he didn’t appear to be able to joke. he wasn’t quite clever enough. sad really. but not sad enough that i won’t talk about him some more.
uncle darryl is not the world’s most handsome man or cool with the ladies. although he has been married 8 times–or maybe it’s 9 by now. and the women he’s brought home were not the sharpest tools in the shed. nope. the marriages never lasted much longer than the expiration date on a gallon of milk. and that’s why at sixty something, he still lived with my grandparents. in fact, the only time i know that he lived away from them is when he would get married. i’m sure my grandparents partied and danced through the house naked, only to have him show up a few weeks later, duffel bag in hand and say, “mom, dad, i’m home. what’s for dinner?”
uncle darryl also loves to walk around without his teeth. have you ever tried to talk to someone who doesn’t have teeth? it’s very distracting–and gross. fyi: no one wants to see your bright red gums. and we definitely don’t want to watch you gnaw on a piece of fried chicken. PUT YOUR TEETH BACK IN YOUR MOUTH!
after my grandmother passed away, spending time over there became really bizarre. my grandfather wasn’t in good health, and what, with my toothless, somewhat mentally retarded uncle on the loose asking me how old i was and toothlessly gnawing on chicken bones, it was what i imagine prison is like–or a really good beating that you almost deserve. my dad soon uprooted to hawaii (traitor! but i don’t blame him) so it was me and my brothers and a few of my other cousins, my aunt and another uncle, and darryl. it quickly became clear that it had been my grandmother who kept this freak show running smoothly and without her, what was really the point? torture?
a few years ago, uncle darryl got in an accident. why the state of texas would give a drivers license to a questionably stable man is beyond me–but they did. anyway, at the hospital one of those ambulance chasing attorneys caught wind of my uncle and went to his bedside and told him he was going to be rich. my uncle perked up and listened like this was news chiseled on tablets from moses himself. when he told my dad what the lawyer had said, my dad immediately got involved because this would not end well for my uncle if left to his own devices. after several months and numerous trips to the attorney’s office, he did get some money. my dad made him put it in a trust so he wouldn’t blow it all at walmart. it was a good thing he did that because darryl asked for some of the money and when my dad gave it to him, he blew it all at walmart. it’s not like solving a rubik’s cube here, people! it’s like putting a jigsaw puzzle together–one that only has 4 giant pieces that a 2 year old can do–by himself!
sadly, my memory isn’t what it used to be. i’m sure there’s more to tell, but these are just the few bits and pieces i’ve been able to extract from my very normal brain this morning. i’m sure my dad will phone to let me know everything i forgot to mention. so expect part 2 of the saga when you realize your family is stupid–and i mean for real another day.
xo
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