| Straight
from the holler.
by "Buck" December 30, 2005 Well, since it's now official I can reveal what I got on Christmas day. I opened the big box and not to my surprise, but still to my utter delight, there was a glorious pressure washer from Sears.
2150 psi with a 4-horse Briggs and Stratton. Yes, I realize it ain't the wash on wheels, but the neighbor has an identical unit and I managed to PLANE off a layer from the shudders last summer. I enjoyed it thoroughly, which a couple of my African American friends tell me "it's the bomb." What's more, as a second gift I received a handle and wheel kit to go on it. Ahh, I can't wait for spring.
I mentioned my African American friends. These are a couple of extremely funny guys with whom I work. They take great joy in poking fun at my hillbilly accent and drawl. I reciprocate by attempting to speak in street slang with them. It always winds up being an unmitigated vocabulary disaster—which is always fun. They are attempting to teach me to speak Ebonics, but it's not working out very well. The other day they got on the intercom and yelled, "Yo Yo, five-oh in the house." I later learned this meant, "A police officer has arrived at our workplace." So much to learn.
Well, I'm headed back to the farm this weekend for the holiday get together with my family. This is always a chaotic riot, but not in the sense of one of Jeff's encounters with the Translucents, the granola, and the liberal pussy. Each of us has gone our own way in life. My sister is the liberal of the family, she works for some non-profit group in NYC. My other sister teaches handicapped kids not to be handicapped. My brother is a computer genius with a huge chip on his shoulder toward liberals. Then there's me—well, you know me. Throw into that mix a bunch of wives, husbands, and a large collection of Secrets along with my parents and it becomes a shouting match as each tries to top another's story about growing up. The embellishment grows with every retelling of the story. Mom usually throws together enough food to feed a full Brigade in Iraq, we attack it with reckless abandon. It's non-stop eating, shouting, and laughing for three full days. My dad doesn't say much, but he gets a kick out of it all…so much so that he'll generally excuse himself to another room, grab a crossword puzzle prop, and sit there and listen to the whole ordeal. We are definitely a fascinating family….but I'm sure we're like many others.
There are obligatory stories that are told every year. There's the time I was stuck in a hog crate for 8-hours, the time my brother glued himself to the bed with bubble gum, the time two of my enormous friends and I broke a swing and almost killed my sister, the time my brother ran my sister through a plate glass window, and of course the time my brother shit his pants on a highway in Texas as we traveled through the 115 degree heat in the back of a camper.
Another tradition we have is to put on the video of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and literally recite every line along with the actors. It's our own personal Rocky Horror Picture Show. For some reason we also go bowling and cause general mayhem there. We were once asked to leave for being too loud. We refused…and they left us alone.
Those who have married into my family generally recoil in horror to our extravagant behavior, but eventually they all come around after a year or two and they're right in there shouting and dancing with the best of us. The more the merrier, especially when we turn on the Music Channel "Hair Bands of the 80's Music" and start conducting our own air band.
Well, that's about it from the holler, see ya'll later, or as my "peeps" say, "I'm kickin' it in da hood, be pimpin' witcha later."
Buck Out |
