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Weekly Wacko (26)

Talkin’ Bout That BoomBoom, Pierre

I felt bad because I posted a lovely little story about the sister and I yesterday, and I’ve got nothing on the bro-in-law, Pierre.

Well, except for that so-stupid-I-love-it joke: that he’s my brotha-in-law, because he’s a black dude (clearly I love this joke because I’m using it twice).

I haven’t known Pierre for very long, and I haven’t spent much time with him (I only see him when I go home, or when he and E$ come to visit).

BUT – here are a few Pierre moments.

*

When I visit home (home meaning the Phoenix area, so I can see my immediate family and relatives) I usually sleep at my parents house a few times, and my sister’s house. One day I stayed at E$ and Pierre’s.

I think it was a weekend day, so we were taking our time getting dressed and ready for the day.

I was sitting in the family room and Pierre began walking downstairs. He was yelling about something or other (possibly, though I doubt it, ‘where’s my pants?’). He came off the stairway and was wearing a nice t-shirt and boxer-briefs. Yowzers.

I gave him a look and he realized it was probably ‘too soon’ for me to see him roaming around in boxer-briefs (I brought this memory up last time I was home and he remembered it, and told me that yes, he realized too late that was ‘too soon’). In his defense he was going to the dryer or spare closet to get pants.

*

My mom, dad, E$ and Pierre and I (plus the dog!) were at our family cabin in Northern Arizona one weekend. It was summertime and that’s a favorite escape – leave the desert and head north.

Before dinner I suggested that Pierre, Erin and I only respond to my mother in rhyme. Meaning whatever she says, the last word of what she said had to rhyme with the last word of what we said.

Awesome.

I pretty much immediately forgot about this gem of an idea (as I tend to do with ‘gems’ like this one) but Pierre had not.

We sat down to eat and my mom made some comment.

Pierre responded, then gave me a look. I thought it over and … wait a minute! … YES! … Pierre rhymed it!

My mom said another thing and I rhyme-answered. This was good.

At that point (maybe Pierre got one more in) E$ intervened with a dirty look for both of us. The game stopped. It was probably for the best as I was doing a bad job keeping a straight face and my mom would’ve figure it out sooner rather than later.

*

One day I got a call from Pierre, which is rare (that rhymes!). About one or two rings in, the call ended. I happened to have my phone on me and was about to answer when the call stopped.

All right, I thought. No biggie.

Shortly after that I got another call from Pierre. This time I answered before he hung up.

“Hey Brad,” Pierre greeted me in that musical voice of his. He went on to explain that he was trying to call his friend Brian but had accidentally called me. He hung up, then felt bad, and so he called back to explain all this.

I pretty much just laughed at him during the explanation.

*

I’m not sure why we found this very funny and worth repeating so often, but Pierre said “it’s made of jewelry” about some item (which was apparently made of jewelry). At the time I think E$ and I had no idea what he was talking about, so ‘it’s made of jewelry’ became a go-to phrase for everything and anything.

*

Lastly, Pierre is a Haitian fella, and a guy who digs good causes, so he and a cousin of his have been working hard to put this together. Check it out, eh mon ami? (If I knew Creole, I’d write some Creole at this point.)

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Weekly Wacko (25)

Tomorrow E$ (the sister) and Pierre (the brotha’-in-law … cause he’s a black dude, get it?) arrive! We are heading to SOUTH by SOUTHWEST! I’ll try to post about that soon … I will eventually, it just may wait.

This Weekly Wacko is called ‘Do We Have a Clip? Let’s Show the Clip.’

My sister and I have our various talents. She’s a great people person. I’m tall.
One thing my sister and I are definitely great at is amusing each other. Probably more than I should admit, part of this comes because my sister is great at listening and I love to tell stories.
I mean – look, I have a blog dedicated to trying to get people to pay me to write down stories.
Vanity, I embrace you!

One day my sister and I arranged to meet with our cousin E (who has commented on this blog … because he’s awesome. But he doesn’t realize I’m a jaguar, so he’s slightly less awesome than he could be), and his wife L, for lunch.
On the drive to lunch my sister and I talked. A good idea came to us. I asked my sister,
“You know how on Letterman and other late night shows they always talk to the people before hand so they have these specific questions that lead to ‘spontaneous’ stories?”
My sister knew.
“Let’s do that!”
We each picked a few stories and had our go-to questions for each other. We would seem like such fun people!
“Boy! You guys are just so witty and fun and full of unique stories!” Everyone in the restaurant would say this after we finished our meal. You see, a few minutes into lunch people would all start to eavesdrop because listen to those story tellers go!
“Aww, shucks.” I’d say that as I looked at the bill, then at some of the other people in the restaurant, then back at the bill, then I’d raise my eyebrows, then back at other people in the restaurant.
Sandwiches are delicious. Free sandwiches are divine.
Didn’t Shakespeare say that?

We arrived and parked. A minute or two later cousin E and L did the same. Ready, set, lunch!
We took seats and began looking at the menu. After we ordered we began to talk, the usual, “so, how have you been?”
After we finished this we went into a temporary silence.
E$ sprung into action.
“So … I’ve been wanting to go to Best Buy lately.”
“Oh!” I said in a pathetic attempt to sound casual about it, “that reminds me …” E$ kept herself from laughing out loud, but definitely grinned big time.
I managed to keep a more straight face (remember, I dig the story-telling).
“The other day I was at Best Buy and I was just walking around and people kept looking at me when I’d walk by. I was pretty confused – why do people keep looking at me? I was heading back toward the bathroom when this guy says, “hello,” and I think he wanted to keep talking but I gave him a, “why are you saying hello to me?” look, then walked on by him. After I used the restroom I was washing my hands when I noticed. Oh crap. I’m wearing … a dark … blue … polo shirt. Like the exact same color as the Best Buy one …”
They chuckled. Not that good a story, but kind of funny.
“So yeah …” I continued, “someone probably got fired over that.”

Now, I want you to know, I included this story not because it’s that great but because this is a great idea!
Socially awkward people, cling on to this!
Go out there, grab a fellow socially awkward buddy, strategize, then hit the town! ‘Oh you and your friend are so funny! It’s like you guys sat around for a few hours and planned this whole back-and-forth conversation you’re having!’
Remember, it’s not lying if you change the topic instead of answering the question.

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Weekly Wacko (24)

The Natural, But, Different

I don’t think I was destined to be a baseball player.
I daydreamt about being a football player, a soccer star, winning cross country races, making the last second basketball shot – but never baseball.
I definitely daydreamt about having the wives baseball players have, or the money – but not so much the playing baseball aspect.

The one season of baseball I played was not baseball at all, it was t-ball.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s still pressure in t-ball. There’s a lot of pressure.
How embarrassing would it be to miss a ball sitting waist level on a stand.
Good God, please don’t let me miss this ball that is SITTING MOTIONLESS in front of me … Oh please …

My family has a tape of one of my t-ball games.
I had heard this story but it absolutely floored me when I watched the tape.
Apparently I had made a kid cry. Here’s how:

I was up to bat and got a pretty good hit, so I started off toward first base.
You can, in the tape, hear parents cheering. My dad included, “come on Brad! Go, Brad!” He can be loud.
One arm was pumping – run run run!
The other was on top of my helmet – they were overly huge. It annoyed the hell out of us but I think it was a plot our mothers hatched. (“They look so adorable!”)
I got to first and was told to keep going.
“Come on Braaaad!”
In the video you can practically hear the laughter in the parents voices as they cheer. Pee wee hockey is the best for laughing at kids though.

I was RIGHT ON the baseball path. This is where you run.
A player on the other team, though, … he was apparently not so aware.
He came through, not looking, and we collided.
A titanic crash of tiny limbs and adorrrrrable outfits (aka “uniforms”).
I got up and kept going.
They were still yelling for me to keep going – what else was I supposed to do?
The other boy …
We all don’t make it, do we?
Circle of life, right?
He was down, crying his eyes out.
I was rounding second.
His dad was walking out.
I was halfway to third.
His dad had picked him up.
I stopped at third.
His dad carried him off the field.
I was totally oblivious.
(But when I watched this tape I was laughing hysterically and, I’ll admit it, very proud of myself.)

Everyone has their baseball dreams – but maybe I just accomplished too much too soon.
Running into a kid full speed, then getting up and still getting a triple!
AND the other kid has to be carried off the field, CRYING?!
There’s just no topping that.
I had to retire.

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