Everyone in my family is obsessed with poop. You have never met a more fecal group. When Marvin met my family for the first time, not one but TWO adult people told him stories about how they'd pooped on themselves recently.
I was kind of delighted when Ned met everyone at Thanksgiving, and not one person regaled a bowel movement story. I have met Ned's people. They are nice Southerners. I think even if they WERE pooping as we spoke, they would not mention it. So the part where Ned met my family in November and stuck around was in part, I imagined, because he did not find my people all that objectionable.
Naturally, then, we got here yesterday and I had to BRING UP the part where I was glad no one had told Ned a poop story.
We were all walking by the Ohio River (we're in southern Indiana) drinking malts (Ned got a smoothie) (whatever with Ned), and every time I turned around, there he was, listening to another shitty story. Poor Ned. This could be the last time we see Ned on this blog. I may have become number two on his list. He may not be flush with happiness about me anymore. What a waste. He's no longer gonna do me a solid and date me.
God, I love myself. Do me a solid. Am own Valentine.
So, everyone's here:
- my cousin Katie the lesbian,
- her husband Jack,
- my cousin Maria and her daughter Anna (the kid who wanted to play circus and funeral with me, back when she was young and not so over me as she is now),
- my Aunt Kathy
- her husband, my Uncle Bill,
- and her other husband, fmr., my Uncle Leo.
I think poor Ned has said not one word since he got here, and I assure you no one has finished a sentence without being interrupted.
Oh! And my aunt has a puppy snickerdoodleeyooo!
Guess who is over me. Roxie is a pitty pit, Boston terrier, petit Basset (yes, that's a thing), Griffon Venden (whatever), dachshund, white Swiss shepherd and golden Retriever. Yes, Aunt Kathy DID have her DNA done. What if that was just some kind of guess, like where people say, "Oh, she's a Lab mix." "Oh, she's a pit, terrier, basset, griffon, dashshund, shepherd, retriever mix."
Anyway, mostly she's pitty pit. Mostly I LOVE HER SO BAD. Till she bit me. I mean, she didn't mean to. We were playing tug of war and I got too close to her teefs.
Mother of god, that hurt.
My cousin Maria also brought her dog, Lola. Here's Katie the lesbian holding Lola. Katie's husband Jack the beard says this dog looks like an old lady, with an old-lady perm, which, once you think about that, you can't UNthink it.
Okay, I have to go. We're going to the farmers market because stupid Katie said, "Let's have potluck tonight! Everyone bring a dish to pass!!" and Katie who cooks can eat my shorts. That'll be MY dish: my shorts. Then we're all going on a hike and my plantar fasciitis is thrilled. Then comes that potluck where my dish of shorts is sure to be welcome. After that apparently we have to watch basketball, which may or may not be Ned's idea.
I will catch you later. Maybe if I drop Mrs. Brown off at the pool later, I'll come back and fill you in on it.