Save Lando

was eating dinner with the family again. and yes, i took a fork. i’m only slightly ashamed, its a nice fork. i’ll take a pic and put it in my fotolog sometime, promise.

but talk of the impending wedding showed again. my sister finally telling my father that both my mother, and grandmother will be attending. this may cause some problems. they’ve all been informed that this wedding is not a forum to discuss any problems that any of the parties may have with each other. i’m hoping that all the adults are ‘adult’ enough to behave themselves. granted i think this is quite the pipe dream, but i can hope, you know.

its funny how as you get older, you get less tolerant of everything. i saw it happen with my grandparents, i see it coming on with my parents. they have to have it their way. they have to have their opinion heard, because obviously, it must be the only one with any validity. and i’m not some teenager boys and girls, i’m getting up there in age. Katrina is lucky, 28 is still really young in robot years. i’m aging by the minute, just like a real boy. who would have thought that would have even happened?

back to the tale. i was told that my wedding duties not only are groomsman (groomsman without a date. thanks again Kat for making me fret over this. as if i dont find myself pathetic enough already, you have to get the ball rolling down that hill, about how lame i’ll look without a date…again), they no include bouncer. wonderful. so i’m going to have to tell my mom to shut the fuck up and leave? sure it sounds great, but i cant see where that would help my family relations any. i already avoid speaking to my mother. last time i spoke to her was x-mas, and she bawled because she missed my sister and i. been 2 years since i’ve seen her. and now i have to keep the peace.

my catholic grandmother already seems to have a problem with my sister and her fiancee’s baptist religion. she’s made a few comments about them drinking whiskey and becoming ‘trash’. nice huh. i had hoped to have a good time, but now i think i might need something to get me through the wedding…maybe some whiskey.

after the last few days, i’ve been thinking about acceptable eating habits of the single man. i only think about these things in an obvious attempt to shirk authority and actual ‘work’. so i’m driving home from said hell, thinking:

“You know, a can of sweet peas is a well and balanced meal.”

i was trying to justify it, after doing that for dinner the previous night. whereas it might not have been the most balanced of meal, but i was in an argumentative mood (arguing with myself as i have no friends.). i argued that it was much better than some of the other meals that have passed my lips as of late.

a handful of peanuts.

or

a hot link and a diet coke.

and other things of those natures. i cant say there’s been one solid meal in recent history. its ok though, because you know what?

i’m a single man, and we do these things.

we eat things outside the box (bad joke imagery coming to me — bad pun about asides coming to me). we learn to cook in odd ways, not out of necessity, but boredom. and sometimes, in the name of science. sometimes you need to know if you can make tomato soup in the coffee maker (why yes you can young skywalker, but its messy). you need to know how to cook a hot dog without any kitchen utensils (and a stove or microwave). these things come up, you have to be prepared.

i think my argument for the sweet peas was: “well, it’s a vegetable.” and apparently, that was all i needed to justify it. 4 food groups my ass.

so again, i’ve been hassled about giving up the story about my ‘first sexual awakening’. and again, after very little thought, i cant come up with anything. but since you’ve got a ‘hankering’ for some sex story, i’ll give you this. i call it

(regal horns sound the importance of such a statement)

that one story

one time, in a hotel (there were a couple…. never thought about that before…interesting), fun was had. and somewhere in the middle of all the fun, there was something that, to this say makes me giggle like a schoolgirl. there i was, on my back, and she was somewhere below the equator, she was focusing on a couple things (yeah i’m not saying them outright today. today i’m virginal and innocent, contrary to what this story says. today i’m pure.) and i had this sudden overwhelming urge. there was no way i was going to be denied.

so at full strength (regal horns), on her forehead.

KA-THUNK!

then something from her like “damnit, dont do that! you do that again and I’ll stop”. of course, i didnt believe that AT ALL. and i suppose at that moment i was like a child when you tell them not to do something. i gathered all the strength i could muster to control myself. and now that i think about it, it had to be at least a good seven seconds. she had gone back to her ‘task-at-mouth’ (come on, it was too easy, dont groan. and just to clarify, she was not ‘tossing my salad’, that came much much later, to my chagrin.)

there we were, she had put me in my place. there was no danger of another dick slap, everyone was having a good time and the threat had worked. right?

(regal horns)

KA-THUNK!

and everyone at work is left-handed. 5 people working there and i’m the only righty. its something i hadnt thought about much until the incident with my canned pears.

what kind of fucking conspiracy is this?!?!?!

i’ll be damned if you lefto commies will get to me. you fuckers.

Psalm 37:11 reads- “But the meek shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace.”

Psalm 37:12 reads- “But not those evil left-handed fucks; they can rot in hell with Jimmy Swaggart and Steve Bartman”

see, biblical proof. what more could you ask for? you know… I really am doing gods work. enlightening the likes of the ignorant to god’s word. I’m also working with the mentally handicapped (come on, i mean retarded, no need to be p.c.). the people in my employ all seem to be afflicted by some rare strain of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, and not in that trendy ‘i just ate at Jack in the Box’ way.

i should be in line for canonization if i keep this up. how does Saint Lando sound? damn skippy, pretty fucking slick if you ask me. though, i’d rather not be the patron saint of retards. make me the patron saint of coffee, or lipstick lesbians with giant breasts…

that would be sweet.

and i’m about five minutes from a nervous breakdown. standing in the kitchen. i decide to eat some canned pears. for some reason i’m having difficulty opening the can. i’m extremely frustrated moving the opener a quarter inch at a time around the lid. i start to wonder if pears are worth it, if anything is worth it, and if sleep wasnt the best idea for me.

then i dwell on why i’m having such trouble. i’ve never had this kind of trouble opening a friggin can before. why am i now? WHATS SO FUCKING WRONG WITH ME THAT I CANT HAVE MY FUCKING PEARS?!?!?!

then i remember my fucking alien roommate is left-handed. what a bitch. i run the opener backwards, and like clockwork, i got pears. damn these freaks and their opposite handed ways….