Monday, October 10, 2005

the things we do for love

My dad's brother passed away, and he was a favorite uncle to all of us in the family, nieces and nephews, great nieces and great nephews, as well. If I had to describe him it would be, "My Big Gay Uncle!" and I mean that with the utmost respect and love. He was one of those flamboyant gay men, like Jack from Will and Grace, only a lot older. I could perfectly describe him as Paul Lynde with a Richard Simmons laugh. What is really funny is that I NEVER realized he was gay until I started dating Mr. G and he mentioned it. I'm like, "He's not gay!" Then an instant later, I'm like, "OMG. He IS gay! How could I not have noticed?!" No wonder he never wanted to date my mother's sister, no matter how many times I suggested it to him.
One of my funniest memories of realizing he was gay was when I asked my mother about it. Now my mother has a problem with, well, you know, the truth, so she said in her ultra conservative "don't let the neighbors hear you talking about this" tone, "We don't KNOW if he's gay for certain. Nobody knows." Yeah, nobody except for his many, many boyfriends.
But he loved the our kids and treated them very well. When Female Offspring #1 went to grade school her bus would pass by his house and every morning he would be out on the porch to wave at her.
And then he'd call me and tell me about it.
"I saw Female Offspring #1 on the bus. She waved and I waved."
My uncle was laid out yesterday and I nearly lost it at the funeral home during the Lion's Club service. They had like a 15 minute ceremony and presented the family with different colored roses to represent service and loyalty, etc. Well the dude in charge was reading everything right off a paper and he said, "We'd now like to present these roses to Mr. ****'s wife and family." Good luck there, pal. You'll be waiting a long time to give anything to my uncle's "wife."
And now, let me leave you with the three things I hate hearing the most at the funeral home:
1. He looks so good.
(Yeah except for that dead thing he's got going on.)
2. It's for the best.
(And yet it never feels that way.)
3. He looks like he's sleeping.
(Except he's not breathing. Thaaaaat kinda makes the difference.)

Hmm, interesting how Luke Ford has someone writing HIS blog now while HE goes to Tampa.
And they didn't even have to LIVE in Luke's hovel while they did it! Most importantly, they didn't have to suffer through his non-English speaking neighbors! What gives?!
See ya back at home tonight, kids.

Keith sends this joke: "A grasshopper hops into a bar and sits down.
The bartender says, "You're quite the celebrity in here. We even named a drink after you."
The grasshopper says, "You have a drink named 'Steve'?"

I called home and Male Offspring #7, who has a bit of a lisp problem, answered the phone. He told me he and his daddy were busy working on his Halloween "cothume.". I said, "What are you going to be?" And he said, "I'm on the twat team." That answer better be a result of his lisp or I am SO kicking his daddy's ass when I get home.

Randy writes: "Dear Goddess. My S.O. hates the taste of cum. What should I do?"
Oh that's an easy one. Have your S.O. suck you off first thing in the morning, Randy. You'll have nice morning woods and your S.O. will have morning breath.
Their mouth will taste like the bottom of a garbage can anyway.
He/she won't even NOTICE the taste of your cum.

Last update on South's page.... Now all I have to do is sit back and let the writing offers POUR in.
Yeah, uh huh schure.

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