I've been blessed with two terrific parents. It's a corny thing to say, yes, but true nonetheless. There is much I've learned from each of them, and much I could say about each of them as well. Today though, I'd like to take a moment to talk about one of the traits that runs on the Lebowski side of the family: a quick wit. All of the children of the Lebowski-Jerboa union share this trait to a greater or lesser degree, and most of the grandchildren as well (I flatter myself amongst the grandchildren of wit). While she may not be as much of a natural spotlight-magnet as her younger siblings Hulka and Patty, my mother possesses the gift of a quick wit in spades. She is less of a storyteller, her gift is in her ability to play along with a situation or mutter a quick retort. Here are a collection of some of my favorite Diane Thirty off-the-cuff witticisms.
At a birthday dinner for Holly Lebowski (Hulka's beloved wife), we were all seated around a table in a restaurant. My mother is very particular about certain foods, and insists on only ever using REAL butter for her bread/rolls, not margarine. So when the basket of rolls arrived to the table with a mix of butter and margarine packets, she was nervous. The basket was going the wrong way around the table from her, and she was carefully watching as the stock of real butters gradually depleted. Eventually, the basket reached the diner directly to her right, her brother David "Blaze" Lebowski, with only 1 real butter left. Now, David is a scheming sort of guy, always up to do something to get a rise out of someone (another trait that runs in the family), so I can't say I blame my mother 100% for the preemptive strike she was about to launch, but it seemed harsh nonetheless.
As soon as the basket of rolls reached David's hands, it was slapped out of them, onto the table as my mother warned him, without a hint of warmth in her voice, "Don't even think about it, fuckhead." [alternative heard as "don't even think about it, dickhead."] She quickly snatched the last butter out of the basket and turned back to her conversation with my father, leaving David with his jaw on the table and only margarine for his roll. Now, I realize that wasn't a particularly "witty" comment to lead the tales of wit, but it was hilarious, fuckhead.
One Christmas in our old house, probably when I was about 13, 14 or so my mother had ordered a large leather recliner for my father for Christmas. It was a warm Christmas Eve that year, with very little, if any, snow on the ground. I recall being sent out onto the deck at some point in the morning with a bag of stale Rice Krispies to throw out to the birds. The house was built into a hillside, and the deck wrapped around from the side of the house where it was just a few steps up from the driveway to the back of the house where it stood above the slider doors to the finished part of the basement. I was feeling particularly lazy, and didn't feel like throwing handful after handful of cereal out onto the lawn proper, so I stood at the deck railing in the rear of the house and just upended the bag, dumping a pile of cereal down 1 story to the ground below where it remained.
Later that day, Dad's new chair arrived. My mother guided the deliverymen down from the driveway to the backyard and around to the basement doors to bring the chair in. She then noticed that to do so, they'd have to walk through a pile of Rice Krispies. Thinking quickly of a way to save face, she let the delivery man know that she'd asked her son to feed the birds that morning. But her son, she claimed, had Down's Syndrome, and didn't understand the task. How do I know she said this? After they left, she came upstairs and told me so. Angrily. As if it were my fault she lied and said I had Down's Syndrome.
Now, my cousin, Derek Dynamo, does in fact have Down's Syndrome, and he is one of the kindest-hearted young men you'd ever hope to meet, a real sensitive guy who loves his family and loves to make people laugh. One day my mother was sitting with her sisters, Susan (Derek's mother), and Patty chatting with their mother, Nonnie, and HER sister, Aunt Claire Philbert. Aunt Claire sometimes has a funky thought process, and doesn't quite follow exactly what's going on (but she is a very sweet and good person). At this particular time, Susan was talking about the accommodations Derek gets at school, including a dedicated para-educator. However, Aunt Claire didn't hear para-educator. Instead, she looked confused and asked my mother to clarify for her sister, just exactly, "what does the parrot do?". Now, my mother could've explained that Derek did not, in fact, have a parrot educator, but instead opted to tell her that the parrot uses its claws and beak to sharpen Derek's pencils. Aunt Claire looked not at all less confused by this, but blinked, nodded her acceptance, and sat back in her chair. To my knowledge, she has not, to this day, been corrected.
The final moment of unscripted, muttered wit I'll share today happened during a family game of Monopoly Junior. Monopoly Junior is like regular monopoly, but with fewer properties, set in an amusement park, and with the dollar values greatly reduced, usually by a factor of $100 or so. Also, the man currently officially known as Mr. Monopoly featured more prominently in the various cards and properties. However, Mr. Monopoly went by a different name back then. Back then, he was Rich Uncle Pennybags.
It was a typical family board game, the type pictured in print ads for the very same board games. All four members of the Thirty family were sitting on the living room rug, Steven and Diane Thirty patiently playing this childrens' game with Meghan and I. Mom was not winning though, and was becoming mildly annoyed with her poor luck. She rolled, and landed on one of the card drawing spaces, taking a card. She grumbled about how she had to pay back a $3 loan to her rich uncle. However, her description of this was "Oh, damn it, fine, pay $3 to Uncle Peniswhistle." Meghan and I laughed so hard we couldn't finish the game.
Uncle Peniswhistle.
Hahahahaha, it's still funny.
Showing posts with label Steven Thirty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steven Thirty. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Tales From The Lebowskis - The Rise and Fall of Huckleberry
A little over five years ago or so, Hulka decided what his home needed was a brand new barn, big enough to house his antique tractors and various other hardware and vehicles. The Lebowskis and their friends are a bit like the Amish: raising a barn is a community affair. So through the entire process of clearing the land, digging the foundation, and actually building the barn, Hulka was aided by his family and friends. Almost everybody got involved on some level, from the oldest family members (Dave "Jaja" Lebowski, Sr. and his brother Uncle Jim) to the youngest (my cousins Chris and Kyle Rudedawg). My father helped, I helped, first, second, and third cousins helped. However, two individuals in particular are important to this story.
At this time, my uncle Dave Lebowski, Jr. (also known as "Uncle Daven" and "Blaze") was recently divorced and spending a lot more time visiting his family even though his residence was in another state, and we were very glad to have him around more. Uncle Daven's interests include music (he's a pretty awesome guitarist) and computers. Construction and similar activities have never really been his forte. But he wanted to spend time with his family, and his family was building a barn, so he was up to give it a try.
Also on the crew, actually a crucial member of the crew, was longtime family friend Jerry Lamaze. Jerry is a man who couldn't be more acquainted with working with his hands. He has worked construction all his life, and is, for his size, immensely strong. This is a man who used to have a party trick where he would grip a metal support column in my grandparents' basement with both hands then hold himself completely perpendicular using the mighty strength of his arms. Jerry, basically, is a tough guy. A man's man.
Over the course of this construction project, David had a few things to learn about building a barn, and Jerry decided to take this man he's known since he (David) was born under his wing and show him the ropes. David got the hang of it fairly quickly, and Jerry was delighted with him. Jerry would offer to buy him celebratory beers, include him in his little pranks, and even gave David a new nickname. David was now Jerry's "Huckleberry."
All was well with Jerry and Huckleberry. This construction project had made them the best of buddies. Such good friends, in fact, that Jerry had a special job for Huckleberry one day. You see, the crew realized that to work on the roof, it was a little bit easier to put a reliable, skilled person in the bucket of the payloader (yes, Jaja owns a payloader. Doesn't everyone's grandfather?) and raise them up. Usually this job would go to somebody like my father, or Jerry himself. But on this day, this special day, Jerry had reserved this special honor for David, his Huckleberry.
David climbed into the bucket, tools in hand. This was a big chance to gain esteem in the eyes of the great and powerful Jerry Lamaze. David stood at the ready in the payloader bucket and prepared himself for the ascent to the roof. But fortune frowned upon him and a single hammer slipped from his grasp. He watched it fall, hit the payloader bucket, bounce, and fall out to the ground. Jerry's face showed the slightest hint of displeasure. David could still recover though, he just had to make the right quip for the situation, which he came up with after a brief pause.
"Whoopsie-doodle!"
Jerry's face lost any and all joy or compassion. "What did you say?" he asked, as though David had informed him of the death of a child. "... Whoopsie-doodle?" David repeated, almost a whisper. There was another brief pause. "Get out of the bucket," instructed Jerry with absolute gravity, "Steven, get in." And just like that, Huckleberry had fallen from grace, much like Jerry would weeks later fall from that same roof (he survived).
However, the legend of Huckleberry and whoopsie-doodle did not die. Months later, around Christmas time, some of us were sitting around Hulka and Holly's kitchen table, enjoying some holiday cheer. A knock came at the door. In bursts Jerry to debut his new holiday hit song, relatively to the tune of "A Holly Jolly Christmas."
Have a Huckleberry Christmas
And in case you didn't know
Say "whoopsie-doodle" and you'll get a lot of snow!
(repeat until bored)
And all was right with the world.
At this time, my uncle Dave Lebowski, Jr. (also known as "Uncle Daven" and "Blaze") was recently divorced and spending a lot more time visiting his family even though his residence was in another state, and we were very glad to have him around more. Uncle Daven's interests include music (he's a pretty awesome guitarist) and computers. Construction and similar activities have never really been his forte. But he wanted to spend time with his family, and his family was building a barn, so he was up to give it a try.
Also on the crew, actually a crucial member of the crew, was longtime family friend Jerry Lamaze. Jerry is a man who couldn't be more acquainted with working with his hands. He has worked construction all his life, and is, for his size, immensely strong. This is a man who used to have a party trick where he would grip a metal support column in my grandparents' basement with both hands then hold himself completely perpendicular using the mighty strength of his arms. Jerry, basically, is a tough guy. A man's man.
Over the course of this construction project, David had a few things to learn about building a barn, and Jerry decided to take this man he's known since he (David) was born under his wing and show him the ropes. David got the hang of it fairly quickly, and Jerry was delighted with him. Jerry would offer to buy him celebratory beers, include him in his little pranks, and even gave David a new nickname. David was now Jerry's "Huckleberry."
All was well with Jerry and Huckleberry. This construction project had made them the best of buddies. Such good friends, in fact, that Jerry had a special job for Huckleberry one day. You see, the crew realized that to work on the roof, it was a little bit easier to put a reliable, skilled person in the bucket of the payloader (yes, Jaja owns a payloader. Doesn't everyone's grandfather?) and raise them up. Usually this job would go to somebody like my father, or Jerry himself. But on this day, this special day, Jerry had reserved this special honor for David, his Huckleberry.
David climbed into the bucket, tools in hand. This was a big chance to gain esteem in the eyes of the great and powerful Jerry Lamaze. David stood at the ready in the payloader bucket and prepared himself for the ascent to the roof. But fortune frowned upon him and a single hammer slipped from his grasp. He watched it fall, hit the payloader bucket, bounce, and fall out to the ground. Jerry's face showed the slightest hint of displeasure. David could still recover though, he just had to make the right quip for the situation, which he came up with after a brief pause.
"Whoopsie-doodle!"
Jerry's face lost any and all joy or compassion. "What did you say?" he asked, as though David had informed him of the death of a child. "... Whoopsie-doodle?" David repeated, almost a whisper. There was another brief pause. "Get out of the bucket," instructed Jerry with absolute gravity, "Steven, get in." And just like that, Huckleberry had fallen from grace, much like Jerry would weeks later fall from that same roof (he survived).
However, the legend of Huckleberry and whoopsie-doodle did not die. Months later, around Christmas time, some of us were sitting around Hulka and Holly's kitchen table, enjoying some holiday cheer. A knock came at the door. In bursts Jerry to debut his new holiday hit song, relatively to the tune of "A Holly Jolly Christmas."
Have a Huckleberry Christmas
And in case you didn't know
Say "whoopsie-doodle" and you'll get a lot of snow!
(repeat until bored)
And all was right with the world.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tales From The Lebowskis - Can't Say That Anymore
Around 1999-2000, my immediate family was in the process of moving from our old house to our new house. Because the old house was sold about a year before the new house was finally done being built, we had to make certain arrangements to have living space in the meanwhile. Luckily, my maternal grandparents, David (aka Jaja) and Mary (aka Nonnie) Lebowski kindly and generously let us share their house until ours was finished. I got to live in my uncle's old room in the basement (David "Blaze" Lebowski, Jr., not Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski), which was pretty sweet, while my parents and my sister, Meghan, occupied spare bedrooms on the main floor. There were aspects that took getting used to, and it was probably easier on me than others since Nonnie treated me like gold and I was in the basement, removed from most of the drama anyway, but all in all, it worked out really well.
One evening, all six of us were seated around the kitchen table eating dinner. I forget what we were talking about specifically, but I guess it came out that my father, Steven Thirty, had done something helpful or kind. Nonnie, wishing to show her appreciation for my father's good deed, told him:
"Well, that was awfully white of you, Steven."
Normally Meghan and I were pretty good about not actually laughing out loud and embarassing our elders for a remark like that. But this time the defenses were down, and we both nearly choked laughing at Nonnie's politically incorrect remark. My mother just looked embarassed. Jaja kept eating, absolutely unfazed. Nonnie, meanwhile, looked confused and a little hurt, and couldn't understand what was so funny. My father, with trademark patience, explained to her the racial connotations of her statement.
Nonnie was shocked. Surely we understood she meant white as in pure, like snow. His soul was glowing white, and this had nothing to do at all with skin color. My father continued explaining that today, a comment like that would be taken as having a racist meaning, even if she didn't mean it that way. Perturbed, but determined to salvage the conversation, Nonnie switched topics and started telling us about her latest night shift at the local convalescent home she worked at part time. It was pretty standard for the most part. But then, she started telling us about an orderly who she spotted catching a nap in a side room. This orderly was a big black man. She told how how:
"I walked right over to that big jungle bunny and told him 'quick, wake up before the supervisor sees you!'"
Again, Meghan and I couldn't hold back our laughter. My mother was laughing too this time. Jaja, still, continued eating without missing a beat. Again, Nonnie looked confused and hurt. While my father explained that "jungle bunny" was considered a racist term now, she explained how she was trying to help him out by waking him up before the supervisor could catch him. Surely we didn't think she was racist or disliked this man because he was black. My father (who, by the way, Nonnie adored. If she thought me golden, he was platinum) told her that he knew she was just trying to help, and that it was only the choice of words that was an issue. He told her he was sure the orderly appreciated her helping him not get caught. Finally Jaja spoke.
"He probably thought it was awfully white of you."
One evening, all six of us were seated around the kitchen table eating dinner. I forget what we were talking about specifically, but I guess it came out that my father, Steven Thirty, had done something helpful or kind. Nonnie, wishing to show her appreciation for my father's good deed, told him:
"Well, that was awfully white of you, Steven."
Normally Meghan and I were pretty good about not actually laughing out loud and embarassing our elders for a remark like that. But this time the defenses were down, and we both nearly choked laughing at Nonnie's politically incorrect remark. My mother just looked embarassed. Jaja kept eating, absolutely unfazed. Nonnie, meanwhile, looked confused and a little hurt, and couldn't understand what was so funny. My father, with trademark patience, explained to her the racial connotations of her statement.
Nonnie was shocked. Surely we understood she meant white as in pure, like snow. His soul was glowing white, and this had nothing to do at all with skin color. My father continued explaining that today, a comment like that would be taken as having a racist meaning, even if she didn't mean it that way. Perturbed, but determined to salvage the conversation, Nonnie switched topics and started telling us about her latest night shift at the local convalescent home she worked at part time. It was pretty standard for the most part. But then, she started telling us about an orderly who she spotted catching a nap in a side room. This orderly was a big black man. She told how how:
"I walked right over to that big jungle bunny and told him 'quick, wake up before the supervisor sees you!'"
Again, Meghan and I couldn't hold back our laughter. My mother was laughing too this time. Jaja, still, continued eating without missing a beat. Again, Nonnie looked confused and hurt. While my father explained that "jungle bunny" was considered a racist term now, she explained how she was trying to help him out by waking him up before the supervisor could catch him. Surely we didn't think she was racist or disliked this man because he was black. My father (who, by the way, Nonnie adored. If she thought me golden, he was platinum) told her that he knew she was just trying to help, and that it was only the choice of words that was an issue. He told her he was sure the orderly appreciated her helping him not get caught. Finally Jaja spoke.
"He probably thought it was awfully white of you."
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tales From The Lebowskis - Hulka, Prince of Lies
A lot of the Lebowski family tales are brief moments, that don't really translate well to a single, dramatic narrative. This is because these stories are real life events, and real life doesn't always follow the traditional "rising action-climax-falling action" pattern of stories. For this entry in the Tales From The Lebowskis feature, I'm going to share with you a number of brief, unrelated episodes on a common theme. Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski is my uncle and is quite a character, as you may recall. He is also an accomplished artist of the English language, and can use his linguistic prowess for both truth and lies.
Over the course of my life, I have borne witness to many of Hulka's finest lies, so I would like to relate a few of my favorite untruths from Uncle Hulka. Before I do, let me say that Hulka's lies to me were often spun with the intention of entertaining me, filling my head with images of a fantastical world where anything is possible. It made my childhood that much more fun, and I wouldn't trade those wonderful lies for anything. Here now are a few chosen lies that I've enjoyed from Hulka over the years.
Over the course of my life, I have borne witness to many of Hulka's finest lies, so I would like to relate a few of my favorite untruths from Uncle Hulka. Before I do, let me say that Hulka's lies to me were often spun with the intention of entertaining me, filling my head with images of a fantastical world where anything is possible. It made my childhood that much more fun, and I wouldn't trade those wonderful lies for anything. Here now are a few chosen lies that I've enjoyed from Hulka over the years.
- Hulka supposedly had two alternate dog-like personalities that would come out from time to time complete with gruff voices. They were Lockjaw (the nice dog person) and Dogjaw (the mean one). When I was being a little shit, Hulka would warn me that Dogjaw was taking over, usually scaring me into behaving and pleading with Dogjaw to let Lockjaw take over instead.
- Dogjaw was not enough of a deterrent for bad behavior I guess, because Hulka also warned me of The No-Fun House. The No-Fun House was the worst place in the world. Anything bad I could think of to ask if it was there, Hulka told me was there. Any redeeming qualities I could think of to ask if they belonged to the No-Fun House, Hulka denied. I was terrified of being sent to the No-Fun House. The No-Fun House was located in Moosup, CT, where they have nothing but wheat. When I was told this, I cried. Once I was being particularly spazzy in the car and Hulka pulled his car up in front of an abandoned house and told me this was the fabled No-Fun House, and to get out. I was scared shitless and immediately behaved like a model child, at least until we were far enough away.
- Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and Goofy apparently used to live in the house next door to the one Hulka lived in at the time (his parents, Mary "Nonnie" Lebowski and David "Jaja" Lebowski's house). They were not the best neighbors for Hulka because they used to wake him up very early by coming over and jumping on his bed, instructing him to Mousercise with them. They had moved away to Florida before I was born, because their new home, Walt Disney World, had been completed.
- Hulka, while driving one day, spotted a car being driven by a cat, with another cat riding in the back. The car pulled up next to him at a red light and he recognized the cats as my cats, Jammers (driving) and Jiggs (passenger). The car was my mother's brand new Subaru station wagon. Jammers tried to convince Hulka to drag race against her by revving the engine, but Hulka did not. Jammers peeled out when the light changed and zoomed away, as Jiggs waved out the rear windshield. I was dubious of this, but Hulka convinced me by correctly identifying the make, model, and color of my mother's car.
- Hulka was part of a conspiracy of adults who successfully had me believe that our elderly family friend, Katherine Kookaburra was trapped in a number of dryers in a variety of family members' homes. Katherine had a distinct and easily imitable voice. Did you know that if somebody stands at the dryer vent outside a house and speaks into it, it sounds like the voice is coming from inside the dryer? Hulka, his siblings, and at least a few of their spouses knew this. Obviously upon opening the dryer, I could see she was not inside, but I believed she had somehow gotten herself trapped behind the tumbler (so many times! Katherine, stay away from dryers for Christ's sake!) and if the adults would just cooperate with me, we could get the tumbler out and save her. But no, not only did they let me futilely try to figure out how to get behind the tumbler, they also would inform me, after a minute or two had passed, that we couldn't wait any longer to run the dryer. "But there's no clothes to dry! Katherine's in there!" "I know, but it's time to run the dryer now. Let's hope Katherine can handle it."
- Hulka and his sister Patty "Pappy" Rudedawg nee Lebowski (the one who accompanied Great Jaja on his trip to the Springfield Bus Station) collaborated on the wonderful idea that the live lobster they were going to cook for their father as a Father's Day feast was in fact the new pet lobster, Leo (named after Leo Bootywitz? Maybe.) Leo enjoyed crawling around, and even visited me while I was in the pool, although he wouldn't actually get in. He had rubber bands on his claws so he wouldn't hurt his new family. They did not think this lie through, because eventually they had to murder Leo and let my grandfather feast on the corpse of our new pet. When I tearfully pleaded for him to stop, that Leo was a pet, I was told by my loving grandfather, Jaja, "Oh, horseshit! *crunch*"
- Hulka's lies were not always to me. On one memorable occasion, he lied for my benefit. Hulka and my father, Steve Thirty, had just taken me to Wal-Mart so I could buy the Super Nintendo Entertainment System (packaged with The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past!) that I had saved up a $2 per week allowance for for over a year. We got back to Hulka's to drop him off before going home. While at Hulka's, Hulka wanted to loan me a few more SNES games for my new system. My father did not want to wait, and told me to go get in the car. Hulka, from the bedroom where he kept his old SNES games, told me to come and take them from him. I was trapped between contradicting orders from two adults I loved and respected. "Remus, come here!" "Remus, go to the car." "Remus, come here!" "No, you go to the car." Then the stalemate was broken by Hulka: "Remus! I'm on fire!" Now, I didn't believe him. Nor did my father. But I looked up at my father, shrugged, and ran to get my games. Upon returning to the living room, I said to my father, "I'm probably in trouble, huh?" "Yeah." But Hulka came to my defense! "No, Steve," he said, "Remus saved my life. A comet crashed into me and set me on fire. It flew all the way from Uranus! It hit me in My-anus!" A good laugh was had by all, and I did not get in trouble.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Tales From The Lebowskis - Bad Influences
Up to this point, I've left myself out of the Lebowski stories that have appeared on this blog. Today, that changes. Today, I would like to share with you a story from my early childhood, a story that my father Steven Thirty wishes would just vanish from history. This story was actually kept from me until I was about 20 years old, despite the fact that I was a key player. I had no memory of it, because I was about 1 or 2 years old at the time. I had just entered that lovely phase of childhood during which a young child, his or her brain seeking to learn as much language as possible, will repeat anything you say to him or her. In this case, him. Duh.
Also, I should warn you that this Lebowski tale contains language that some may consider shocking or offensive. If you are easily offended, I recommend you read a different blog, or better yet, leave the internet and never come back, because the internet is not a safe place for the gentle-minded.
Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski has been a wonderful uncle since day one. He was always looking out for me, making sure I knew about cool things like his muscle cars or The Doors. Seriously, after the usual childhood basic words (mama, dada, kitty, doggie, etc.) Hulka made it a point to teach me that he drove a "Fouh-Fouh-Two!" and the lead singer of The Doors was "Jim Moh-son!" Mixed in with these important facts were also an astonishing number of harmless-ish, entertaining lies but those will be saved for another time. Because between the truths and the lies, there rests forbidden knowledge.
One day, Hulka, who at this point was still living with his parents, Mary and David Lebowski (Nonnie and Jaja), had a couple of friends over. Notable amongst these young men was John Tygers, one of Hulka's best friends. Eric Zealand may or may not have been present for this. Anyway, Hulka and his buddies were watching a movie together in Hulka's room. Not just any movie, an adult movie. The film was one of the movies from the adult film series The Devil in Miss Jones. I think it MAY have been the 4th installment, The Final Outrage, but I am not certain. I sadly have not seen these films, and so cannot tell you.
There was a line in this film that Hulka, John, and company found absolutely uproarious. At some point an African-American character with a gravelly voice describes to the titular Miss Jones, possibly whilst in Hell, that "... you got a jizz-a-mighty dick, HANGIN' out yo' butt!" What this line actually physically describes is difficult to determine. What makes a dick jizz-a-mighty? Why would it just be hanging out of Miss Jones' butt and not doing something? These are questions I do not know the answer to, and certainly did not know the answers to at age 1 or 2.
This did not stop Hulka and John from continuing my education though. Because when his beloved nephew wandered down the hall from the living room to see Uncle Hulka, Hulka and John saw opportunity. An opportunity to take what was already a hilarious porno line and make it even funnier. By getting the 2-year-old to repeat it. And so, Hulka and John Tygers started teaching me the line. "Remus, say: you got a jizz-a-mighty dick, HANGIN' out yo' butt!" And what else could I do? These was my beloved uncle and his good friend. They usually steered me right. And I had no clue what the words meant anyway.
"You ga jiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAn oucha bud!"
The laughter was immense. This was comedic gold. "You ga jiiiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAn oucha bud!!" Even more laughter. This line was a keeper. I was going to use this all the time to make the grown-ups laugh. And use it I did. But nobody else got it. Nobody else even understood what I was saying. It was the idle talk of a toddler. And so parents, grandparents, strangers, all were treated to the best of The Devil in Miss Jones without knowing it. For several weeks. But then something happened.
My family was visiting at Nonnie and Jaja's, as was a frequent occurence. John Tygers was also there at the same time, visiting Hulka. And we were all in the living room. And upon seeing my uncle and John together, I did what I would naturally do: use their favorite line to get a reaction. "You ga jiiiiiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAn oucha bud!" And they laughed. And John repeated it back to me: "You got a jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizz-a-mighty dick, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAngin' out yo' butt!" And it was grand fun. Except this time, my father was there.
His gaze turned to something between ice and stone. "What did you just say?"
"Uhhh, Steve, I uhh..."
"What did you just say, John?"
"Steve, it's just, it's just a line from a movie, it's not a big deal."
"You taught my son, my 2-year-old son, a line from a porno?"
Needless to say, I wasn't really allowed to hang out with Uncle Hulka and John alone much after that point, at least not until I was a little older.
Now, I would like to end with a request/challenge. As established earlier, I have never actually seen the film the line is from. I don't feel like watching a seven-film series just to find the line. If any of you readers can find me either a copy of the film (the correct film, not just any film in the series) or even better, the clip in question, I will come up with a good prize for you. This prize will include a special write-up on the blog, and probably something else good too (what it will be depends on who wins). So start searching, my beloved perverts! Find me this porn!
Also, I should warn you that this Lebowski tale contains language that some may consider shocking or offensive. If you are easily offended, I recommend you read a different blog, or better yet, leave the internet and never come back, because the internet is not a safe place for the gentle-minded.
Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski has been a wonderful uncle since day one. He was always looking out for me, making sure I knew about cool things like his muscle cars or The Doors. Seriously, after the usual childhood basic words (mama, dada, kitty, doggie, etc.) Hulka made it a point to teach me that he drove a "Fouh-Fouh-Two!" and the lead singer of The Doors was "Jim Moh-son!" Mixed in with these important facts were also an astonishing number of harmless-ish, entertaining lies but those will be saved for another time. Because between the truths and the lies, there rests forbidden knowledge.
One day, Hulka, who at this point was still living with his parents, Mary and David Lebowski (Nonnie and Jaja), had a couple of friends over. Notable amongst these young men was John Tygers, one of Hulka's best friends. Eric Zealand may or may not have been present for this. Anyway, Hulka and his buddies were watching a movie together in Hulka's room. Not just any movie, an adult movie. The film was one of the movies from the adult film series The Devil in Miss Jones. I think it MAY have been the 4th installment, The Final Outrage, but I am not certain. I sadly have not seen these films, and so cannot tell you.
There was a line in this film that Hulka, John, and company found absolutely uproarious. At some point an African-American character with a gravelly voice describes to the titular Miss Jones, possibly whilst in Hell, that "... you got a jizz-a-mighty dick, HANGIN' out yo' butt!" What this line actually physically describes is difficult to determine. What makes a dick jizz-a-mighty? Why would it just be hanging out of Miss Jones' butt and not doing something? These are questions I do not know the answer to, and certainly did not know the answers to at age 1 or 2.
This did not stop Hulka and John from continuing my education though. Because when his beloved nephew wandered down the hall from the living room to see Uncle Hulka, Hulka and John saw opportunity. An opportunity to take what was already a hilarious porno line and make it even funnier. By getting the 2-year-old to repeat it. And so, Hulka and John Tygers started teaching me the line. "Remus, say: you got a jizz-a-mighty dick, HANGIN' out yo' butt!" And what else could I do? These was my beloved uncle and his good friend. They usually steered me right. And I had no clue what the words meant anyway.
"You ga jiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAn oucha bud!"
The laughter was immense. This was comedic gold. "You ga jiiiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAn oucha bud!!" Even more laughter. This line was a keeper. I was going to use this all the time to make the grown-ups laugh. And use it I did. But nobody else got it. Nobody else even understood what I was saying. It was the idle talk of a toddler. And so parents, grandparents, strangers, all were treated to the best of The Devil in Miss Jones without knowing it. For several weeks. But then something happened.
My family was visiting at Nonnie and Jaja's, as was a frequent occurence. John Tygers was also there at the same time, visiting Hulka. And we were all in the living room. And upon seeing my uncle and John together, I did what I would naturally do: use their favorite line to get a reaction. "You ga jiiiiiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAn oucha bud!" And they laughed. And John repeated it back to me: "You got a jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizz-a-mighty dick, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAngin' out yo' butt!" And it was grand fun. Except this time, my father was there.
His gaze turned to something between ice and stone. "What did you just say?"
"Uhhh, Steve, I uhh..."
"What did you just say, John?"
"Steve, it's just, it's just a line from a movie, it's not a big deal."
"You taught my son, my 2-year-old son, a line from a porno?"
Needless to say, I wasn't really allowed to hang out with Uncle Hulka and John alone much after that point, at least not until I was a little older.
Now, I would like to end with a request/challenge. As established earlier, I have never actually seen the film the line is from. I don't feel like watching a seven-film series just to find the line. If any of you readers can find me either a copy of the film (the correct film, not just any film in the series) or even better, the clip in question, I will come up with a good prize for you. This prize will include a special write-up on the blog, and probably something else good too (what it will be depends on who wins). So start searching, my beloved perverts! Find me this porn!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
My Geekiest (But Possibly Favorite) Dream Ever
Alright, so this dream is not that recent. It occurred probably at least a full year ago, if not slightly longer. However, I have wanted to record it somewhere for a while now, and figured this was as good a venue as any, especially because I want to get myself back into the habit of moderately frequent updates. So, here is an account of my geekiest dream ever, which may also be my favorite dream ever.
The dream opened in a weird, larger version of the house I spent most of my childhood in. Meredith and I were helping my mother, father, and sister clean up and pack various items into storage boxes to go into the (enormous in this dream) attic. There were also some cats moving around, which were unfamiliar, but in the dream I recognized them as being our new cats. I went to bring some boxes up to the attic and as I rounded the corner from one part of the attic to another (like I said, the attic was enormous in this dream), I was surprised to find my father asleep on a trunk, because I had just seen him downstairs.
He woke up and started being a real dick to me, saying things like "what the hell are you doing up here?" and "get the f*ck away from me." This is out of character for my father, for those who may not be familiar. I went away into another room in the (massive) attic and realized something was wrong. Using some careful peeking, I realized this person was not my father, but was in fact a shapeshifting monster in my father's form: a doppelganger! I went downstairs and found Meredith and brought her up a different set of stairs into another part of the attic we could spy on the doppelganger from without being seen (yet again, it was a big damn attic.) The doppelganger started moving around and I realized we'd need to take action. I went downstairs and found my real father.
Knowing (somehow) that we would need to beat this thing without facing it head-on, my father and I evacuated everyone else from the house and took gasoline cans and started dousing everything. "Once we start this, there's no stopping. Anything or anyone we find left inside could be and probably is the doppelganger," he instructed me. We managed to finish soaking everything in gasoline without another encounter, lit matches, and got ourselves outside, locking the door behind us. Then I heard meowing, and realized a cat was still inside. I reminded myself that the cat was probably just the doppelganger trying to prey on my sympathies, I stopped myself from unlocking the door, hoped with all my heart I was right and wasn't killing an innocent animal, and watched the house burn.
However, this must not have finished off the doppelganger, because the next thing I knew, FBI Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were investigating the case, trying to track down and capture the monster. For some reason, for this segment of the dream, I shifted from a first-person perspective to a third-person, watching Mulder and Scully carry out their mission. They successfully lured the doppelganger into small room in a derelict factory/warehouse and managed to lock it inside (it was in the form of some random, kind-of-menacing-looking guy at this point). They went to get back up, and just as they returned, the doppelganger grinned at them through the window of the locked door and collapsed into a puddle of black slime that oozed through the crack of the door and over to a big storm drain in the floor, escaping.
Agent Mulder did not take this turn of events well at all. In his frustration, he proceeded to urinate down the storm drain while screaming obscenities at the escaped creature. During this unfortunate outburst, FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner and a few other agents showed up and had to remove Mulder from the scene physically. Later, in front of a panel of higher-ups, Mulder faced his punishment. The X-Files were being closed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. In the back of the room, the Cigarette Smoking Man grinned as he lit another cigarette, finally able to shut Mulder down because of his unsavory tantrum.
The dream shifted back to my first-person experience at this point, and I was checking out the site where we once burned down the house futilely trying to kill the doppelganger. However, for some reason this was now the site of a seedy carnival/boardwalk area, including a particularly sketchy set of motel-style rooms. I had with me a scrap of paper with some sort of clue about the doppelganger, but I have no idea now what the clue was. Now, the odd thing about these motel-ish rooms was that the names of the occupants were posted on the outsides. I crept about, checking the names, and came across one name in particular (I don't recall it now) that I recognized. Suddenly, I pieced together clues that I had no idea I knew, and had not been previously introduced in the dream. The name on the room was the name of a popular internet webcam stripper. In the news, men had been disappearing recently around this area. I don't watch camshows or that much broadcast news in real life, so I don't know how I knew these things in the dream. But I figured it out: the online stripper was the doppelganger, luring victims to its skeezy lair.
At this point, I woke up. In real life, I had to pee. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but for me, once I wake up, I never am able to get back to the dream I was having before I woke up, even if I fall back asleep. I wrote all of the dream off so far as a neat story that I'd never see the end to. Oh well. I used the bathroom and went back to bed. It happened this time. I got back in the dream. Not only was I back in the dream, the dream had continued in my absence, as though I was watching a TV show, left the room, and came back in at a later point. And the situation had become dire.
Somehow I had wound up in some sort of industrial alley or parking lot. I was facing off against the doppelganger once and for all. It had abandoned taking on human faces and appeared before me now as a vaguely humanoid mass of black slime. I realized I had no idea how to fight this thing, when suddenly, light shined down from the sky. Floating in the air above our heads was the ghost of my beloved grandmother, Nonnie. With reassuring and determined smile, she dematerialized into white energy and shot down to the doppelganger, surrounding and paralyzing it. Now feeling like I had a chance, I reached into my pocket and found a Harry Potter wand. Skeptical of its power (but oddly accepting of the fact that I had it at all), I gestured with the wand towards my target and was gladly surprised when a tiny beam of white light shot forward from the tip, passing through the Nonnie-light and piercing through the doppelganger, causing it to make a sound of pain. It worked! And if that worked...
I had a crazy idea, but crazy seemed to be working at the moment. I re-pocketed the wand and took a wide stance. Cupping my hands and drawing them back to my right hip, I gathered energy between my palms. (Ka... Me...) If you are a geek like me, you see where this is going. After charging up for a few seconds (Ha... Me...), I thrust my hands forward towards the doppelganger and called out the last of five syllables (Ha!!!). The Kamehameha Wave exploded toward my foe in a wash of blue-white energy. The light of it was blinding. When I could see again, the area was littered with tiny scorched blobs of black goo.
After a moment, though, the blobs began to quiver, then start oozing towards a center point. The monster was going to re-form, even after that! I leaped into the air (apparently I could hover/fly in this dream too, which was cool) and thought to myself, "Guess I need to use this after all," as I took the wand back out. I used the wand to draw a large circle in the air in front of me, and a similar massive glowing circle appeared on the ground, wide enough to contain all of the blobs. I quickly made sketching motions with the wand and a rune symbol appeared inside of the circle on the ground. As I finished the last line of the rune, the ground darkened within the circle and became a black vortex, pulling the blobs into itself. The glowing circle that formed its border gradually shrank in diameter until it vanished completely.
Now, you may be thinking to yourself, "what kind of bizarre person has a dream involving his or her immediate family, a doppelganger, arson, the X-Files, public urination, supernatural sex predators, the protective spirit of his or her deceased grandmother, Harry Potter, and Dragon Ball Z?" This kind of bizarre person, my friend. This kind.
The dream opened in a weird, larger version of the house I spent most of my childhood in. Meredith and I were helping my mother, father, and sister clean up and pack various items into storage boxes to go into the (enormous in this dream) attic. There were also some cats moving around, which were unfamiliar, but in the dream I recognized them as being our new cats. I went to bring some boxes up to the attic and as I rounded the corner from one part of the attic to another (like I said, the attic was enormous in this dream), I was surprised to find my father asleep on a trunk, because I had just seen him downstairs.
He woke up and started being a real dick to me, saying things like "what the hell are you doing up here?" and "get the f*ck away from me." This is out of character for my father, for those who may not be familiar. I went away into another room in the (massive) attic and realized something was wrong. Using some careful peeking, I realized this person was not my father, but was in fact a shapeshifting monster in my father's form: a doppelganger! I went downstairs and found Meredith and brought her up a different set of stairs into another part of the attic we could spy on the doppelganger from without being seen (yet again, it was a big damn attic.) The doppelganger started moving around and I realized we'd need to take action. I went downstairs and found my real father.
Knowing (somehow) that we would need to beat this thing without facing it head-on, my father and I evacuated everyone else from the house and took gasoline cans and started dousing everything. "Once we start this, there's no stopping. Anything or anyone we find left inside could be and probably is the doppelganger," he instructed me. We managed to finish soaking everything in gasoline without another encounter, lit matches, and got ourselves outside, locking the door behind us. Then I heard meowing, and realized a cat was still inside. I reminded myself that the cat was probably just the doppelganger trying to prey on my sympathies, I stopped myself from unlocking the door, hoped with all my heart I was right and wasn't killing an innocent animal, and watched the house burn.
However, this must not have finished off the doppelganger, because the next thing I knew, FBI Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were investigating the case, trying to track down and capture the monster. For some reason, for this segment of the dream, I shifted from a first-person perspective to a third-person, watching Mulder and Scully carry out their mission. They successfully lured the doppelganger into small room in a derelict factory/warehouse and managed to lock it inside (it was in the form of some random, kind-of-menacing-looking guy at this point). They went to get back up, and just as they returned, the doppelganger grinned at them through the window of the locked door and collapsed into a puddle of black slime that oozed through the crack of the door and over to a big storm drain in the floor, escaping.
Agent Mulder did not take this turn of events well at all. In his frustration, he proceeded to urinate down the storm drain while screaming obscenities at the escaped creature. During this unfortunate outburst, FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner and a few other agents showed up and had to remove Mulder from the scene physically. Later, in front of a panel of higher-ups, Mulder faced his punishment. The X-Files were being closed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. In the back of the room, the Cigarette Smoking Man grinned as he lit another cigarette, finally able to shut Mulder down because of his unsavory tantrum.
The dream shifted back to my first-person experience at this point, and I was checking out the site where we once burned down the house futilely trying to kill the doppelganger. However, for some reason this was now the site of a seedy carnival/boardwalk area, including a particularly sketchy set of motel-style rooms. I had with me a scrap of paper with some sort of clue about the doppelganger, but I have no idea now what the clue was. Now, the odd thing about these motel-ish rooms was that the names of the occupants were posted on the outsides. I crept about, checking the names, and came across one name in particular (I don't recall it now) that I recognized. Suddenly, I pieced together clues that I had no idea I knew, and had not been previously introduced in the dream. The name on the room was the name of a popular internet webcam stripper. In the news, men had been disappearing recently around this area. I don't watch camshows or that much broadcast news in real life, so I don't know how I knew these things in the dream. But I figured it out: the online stripper was the doppelganger, luring victims to its skeezy lair.
At this point, I woke up. In real life, I had to pee. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but for me, once I wake up, I never am able to get back to the dream I was having before I woke up, even if I fall back asleep. I wrote all of the dream off so far as a neat story that I'd never see the end to. Oh well. I used the bathroom and went back to bed. It happened this time. I got back in the dream. Not only was I back in the dream, the dream had continued in my absence, as though I was watching a TV show, left the room, and came back in at a later point. And the situation had become dire.
Somehow I had wound up in some sort of industrial alley or parking lot. I was facing off against the doppelganger once and for all. It had abandoned taking on human faces and appeared before me now as a vaguely humanoid mass of black slime. I realized I had no idea how to fight this thing, when suddenly, light shined down from the sky. Floating in the air above our heads was the ghost of my beloved grandmother, Nonnie. With reassuring and determined smile, she dematerialized into white energy and shot down to the doppelganger, surrounding and paralyzing it. Now feeling like I had a chance, I reached into my pocket and found a Harry Potter wand. Skeptical of its power (but oddly accepting of the fact that I had it at all), I gestured with the wand towards my target and was gladly surprised when a tiny beam of white light shot forward from the tip, passing through the Nonnie-light and piercing through the doppelganger, causing it to make a sound of pain. It worked! And if that worked...
I had a crazy idea, but crazy seemed to be working at the moment. I re-pocketed the wand and took a wide stance. Cupping my hands and drawing them back to my right hip, I gathered energy between my palms. (Ka... Me...) If you are a geek like me, you see where this is going. After charging up for a few seconds (Ha... Me...), I thrust my hands forward towards the doppelganger and called out the last of five syllables (Ha!!!). The Kamehameha Wave exploded toward my foe in a wash of blue-white energy. The light of it was blinding. When I could see again, the area was littered with tiny scorched blobs of black goo.
After a moment, though, the blobs began to quiver, then start oozing towards a center point. The monster was going to re-form, even after that! I leaped into the air (apparently I could hover/fly in this dream too, which was cool) and thought to myself, "Guess I need to use this after all," as I took the wand back out. I used the wand to draw a large circle in the air in front of me, and a similar massive glowing circle appeared on the ground, wide enough to contain all of the blobs. I quickly made sketching motions with the wand and a rune symbol appeared inside of the circle on the ground. As I finished the last line of the rune, the ground darkened within the circle and became a black vortex, pulling the blobs into itself. The glowing circle that formed its border gradually shrank in diameter until it vanished completely.
Now, you may be thinking to yourself, "what kind of bizarre person has a dream involving his or her immediate family, a doppelganger, arson, the X-Files, public urination, supernatural sex predators, the protective spirit of his or her deceased grandmother, Harry Potter, and Dragon Ball Z?" This kind of bizarre person, my friend. This kind.
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