I wonder what would happen if people wrote down the first thing that came to their minds in their holiday newsletters? What it be like if we all mailed our first drafts, raw and uncensored, rather than the spit and polish, somewhat-less-than-accurate final editions? I can only imagine…
Dear family and friends,
Happy Holidays (there, that ought to get somebody riled up!). It’s time for that annual gagfest known as the XXX family brag sheet, uh, I mean newsletter.
I know what some of you are thinking: I need this like I need an IRS audit or a visit to the proctologist. Well, excuuuuuuuse me! I send you one letter a year and you make out like reading it is the equivalent to having an Army PSYOPS unit parked in front of your house blaring “Brittney Spears Does Christmas” in a continual loop. Buck up for Pete’s sake! There are worse things in life, although admittedly I’m hard pressed at the moment to think of what they might be.
Let me start with Number One Son. By now most of you know about his recent experimentation with crossdressing from reading my blog. Had it stopped after the powderpuff football game, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But the fact that he continues to wear that same miniskirt to school everyday does give me some cause for concern. He’s a senior in high school and up until recently had plans of attending college on a National Merit Scholarship, majoring in molecular biology and perhaps one day attending medical school or getting a PhD in genetics. But really, how boring is that? Just the other day he informed that instead he plans to continue to live at home (according to him, it would make “good financial sense”), attend Calhoun Community College and major in “Guitar Hero.” Having watched him gyrate and bang out “Free Bird” on his miniature (and very fake) Gibson SG, I think there may be a future in that. I guess my plans to sell off all his possessions and turn his old room into my man cave and Blogging Central will just have to be put on hold.
As for Number Two Son, this past year he’s been spending some time trespassing and poaching local wildlife as well as getting to personally know some of Huntsville’s finest community servants. But that little spotlighting incident was just the beginning. He quickly graduated to laser pointers and was finally nabbed near Runway #1 at Huntsville International Airport trying to fry the retinas of a couple of FedEx pilots landing a 747 cargo jet. I’m beginning to think the kid has a real future in ophthalmology!! His face and name were all over the local news and it even got picked up by the AP and USA Today. Needless to say, we were one set of mighty proud parents!!! He now has a nice, comfy room down at Juvie Hall and has become a real leader there. In fact just recently he was elected captain of the food fight team and has become one of those most respected young hoodlums in the joint. The real upside of all this is that he won’t be needing that bedroom for a while, which means my plans for a man cave and Blogging Central are back on!
Not to be outdone, Number Three Son provided his own bit of family drama this year. He broke his leg playing soccer in September, but not before making a game-saving sliding tackle. You might have seen the replay on ESPN Sports Center (I just wish they hadn’t kept showing his leg breaking over and over and over like that). The time off has allowed him to mull over his future plans, though. I’m glad to report he has now set his sights on becoming the next great white hope of hip hop. I personally don’t get the whole white guy-doing-rap-thing, but I guess if it works for Eminem, who am I to object? After all, we all know how well he turned out. Number Three now wears his Duke cap backwards, his britches baggy and his shoulders are starting to stoop slightly from all the layers of “bling.” He’s only got as far as “Yo, Yo, my name is Joe,” so the lyrics are going to need a little work. But really, when they get those microphones close to their mouths like that, who needs lyrics anyway? The main thing is to be able to busta move or two, and Number Three has those in abundance. The future looks bright indeed.
That brings me to my beloved wife. And believe me, she’s more beloved than ever these days, mainly because there’s more of her to love! I really don’t mind the few pounds that she’s put on, but that time I pulled up to the stoplight and saw her sitting on the back of that Harley with her arms around the waist of that hairy, biker dude with the “Born To Be Wild” tattoo on his left biceps was a little over the top. You see, all this time she’s been telling me that she’s been “working out at the gym,” what she really meant was that she was “winding out with Big Jim,” who was, of course, the leader of the local chapter of The Outlaws Motorcycle Club. She assures me that she just rode around the block with him probably less than a dozen times and that it will never happen again.
Oh well, I guess every woman is entitled to a little midlife crisis now and then. As long as dinner is still on the table by 5:30 PM every night and my underwear gets ironed and folded, I’m cool with that.
As for me, the big news (or maybe I should say “small” news—HA!!) for me this past year is that I’ve lost a TON of weight since last Christmas!! Don’t worry, it was on purpose and I’m feeling fine. In fact, I now weigh the same as I did in the late 1980s. Are you seething with envy yet? You are? Good!!! Unfortunately, I’m also losing a lot of hair (about one bottle of Liquid Drano per week’s worth), but I hope to get that follicle transplant procedure soon. I’ll post my before and after pics on my blog so you can see how I, unlike some of you, never seem to age. So keeping hitting that reload button boys and girls!
I’ve obviously got my hands full dealing with this crew of mine, but I handle it all with several hours a day of personal prayer and quiet time and a good sense of humor, not to mention that fistful of antidepressants that I toss down the hatch every morning.
In sum, I doubt that your life is nearly as good as mine (in fact, I’m betting that yours truly sucks), and this just seems like the perfect time of year to remind you of that.
Snidely but Sincerely,
Mike the Eyeguy