Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--I ran over my sunglasses with
the lawnmower yesterday.Not on
purpose, of course - the things weren’t cheap.And, no, I wasn’t wearing them at the time.But that’s a good one...
I’d taken the glasses off and hung them from the pocket of my shorts
while I added more gasoline to the tank.Then I guess I forgot to put ‘em back on when I began mowing
again, and they fell to the ground. And on the next pass:kerflenk!I think one of the lenses is now in Half-Shirt’s gutter.
But I got the job done.It sucked
like nothing has ever sucked before.OK,
maybe not as bad as 9/11, but close.The
backyard looks like it’s been assaulted.I’m just glad my Dad’s not here to see it.It’s gonna take several more mowings before it looks like a
regular lawn again.Because it
sure as shit doesn’t look like a regular lawn now…
Never again will I allow it to reach Depeche Mode proportions.
On a happier note, the front yard is a thing of beauty.I stay on top of it for the sake of the neighbors, and so they
won’t find out how lazy I really am.And
at this point I think even Hank Hill would approve of the carpet-like
grass in front of our house.
--Apparently Sunshine can’t
reach Toney’s brother, and some mild panic is starting to set in.Sunshine & Mumbles are still at Nancy’s(!), and Toney’s brother is supposed to be looking after things
back home in Nevada.But he’s not answering the
phone at the house, or his cell.
Oh, they’re not worried about him,
this isn’t anything unusual as far as he’s concerned; the guy
regularly wanders off the grid.No,
they’re worried about those deep sea diver tanks they bought off eBay.
If nobody’s staying at their house, have the tanks been laying on the
porch all this time?!If so, it’s
only a matter of time before they’re stolen, ‘cause S&M don’t
exactly live in Beverly Hills.In fact, when we visit I always
want to suit the kids up in body armor…
Anyway, it’s yet another drama.And
why do I have a nagging feeling I’ll be somehow blamed if the tanks go
missing?Since I was forced into
handling the auction, it’ll be my fault because I didn’t tell the
seller to ship the hilarious items later, or to a different address, or
something.
Just wait and see.
--A few leftover Sunshine
& Mumbles tidbits, from their recent stay at Jeff & Toney’s
Bed and Breakfast Inn and Old Country Saloon:
One day we were forced into watching some of their home movies -
something that makes my sphincter wink every time.
In one part of the tape they’re camping, in the Sierra Mountains
somewhere, and Mumbles is shown cooking scrambled eggs for five solid
minutes - while Led Zeppelin(!?) blares
in the background.I briefly
thought a mistake had been made, and we were somehow watching the
Sundance Channel.But then my
mind cleared.
In another section of the tape Sunshine is shown walking to the edge of
a fast-moving creek, or small river, or somesuch.And I have a strong suspicion she’d been into her
“antibiotics” that day, because the next thing you know she’s
sitting in the water fully clothed, with a giant smile on her face.I almost swallowed my tongue.
In the hands of a talented editor, I’m convinced S&M’s home
movies could be repackaged and shown at the Cannes Film Festival.
While they were here I was taking a shower one day, when I heard a loud
bang followed by wild hollering.The
shit?!I turned off the water and
yelled for somebody to give me a report on what in the living hell was
going on.When nobody answered, I
just shrugged and went back to it.
Turns out Sunshine had tried to bust into the bathroom, and konked her
head against the door.Since she
and her hubby each crap roughly fifteen times per day (don’t ask… I
don’t know why), they always leave the bathroom door pulled closed
with the fan running.Apparently
she didn’t know I was in there, and almost rammed her head clean
through a wooden door.Good
times.
We went to a park on Mother’s Day, and cooked steaks over charcoal and
threw a Frisbee around, and all that good stuff.Here’s a pic I snapped of
two of the local bathing beauties…
Sunny and I got into a low-grade argument about the grill.She wanted to use the ones at the park, the nasty-ass permanent
grills that are located here and there.I
said no way, “hippies pee on those things.”
She just shook her head in exasperation and dropped the subject. But it
was brought up with Toney later.Sunshine
reportedly said, “Where does he get all that weird stuff?”Heh.
After we ate lunch (the steaks were prepared on a grill brought from home), Sunshine promptly fell asleep in a camping
chair.Mumbles and I watched the
Secrets do some fishing off the pier, and Toney was left to babysit her
mother.
A little later I came back to check on them, and Sunny was still asleep.I stood there and talked to Toney for a few minutes, and her
mother suddenly jerked, kicked one leg high into the air, and yelled
(I’m almost certain), “BRIAN KEITH!!”
The following day I had a job interview, and when I returned home was
horrified to find that Sunshine had removed my clothes from the dryer,
and folded everything – including a half dozen or so pairs of
underwear.
Shit, I just had another full-body shiver!
--I’m starting to run out of
steam here…Before I turn it
over to Brad, I’ll take this opportunity to ask the Question of the
Day. It’s very simple really, and has to do with pants-shitting.Do you have any stories to tell on this subject?Has it ever happened to you?To
somebody else you’d like to now mock?Use
the comments link below, won’t you?
The only time I can remember an adult crapping his pants was in Atlanta
.
Where Toney and I worked was an old gay man named Chuck who manned the
switchboard.The dude was a mess,
both physically and emotionally.He
was really overweight, smoked all the time, and was prone to wild
coughing jags.Supposedly he had
a bad gambling problem as well, that left him in a perpetual state of
financial misery.
This was at the office of a large record company, and I remember him
putting issues of Rolling Stone
into the mail slots of all the bigshots, and the lead singer of Skid Row
was on the cover.Here
ya go.Well, this sent ol’
Chuck (who was in his late sixties at the time) into some kind of wild
frenzy of lust, and was almost literally panting with passion.
I got no problem with the gay folks, but found this to be quite
disturbing…
Anyway, he was up there answering the phones one day, and launched into
yet another of his wild coughing fits.And
promptly shit his pants.
Do you have anything to add to this?Help
me out people, I’m floundering here.
