Relations
Some are by blood, some are by marriage. All true.
• J. is an enthusiastic apologist for Mussolini, remarking that all the Fascist street fighters in Italy did was force their enemies to drink castor oil, which J. gleefully notes, “makes you crap your trousers -- instantly.”
• P. was a Greek gentleman who served in a godfathering role to one of my siblings. He was a wild alcoholic, one who constantly asked women to feel his thighs at family Christmas parties. “Feel my leg, I play tennis. It’s like steel”.
• V. was married to a closeted transvestite. Lives in sort of a twilight splendor in a decaying manse with large, alarming cracks in structurally important walls.
• P #2. Once was founding frying his balls off on acid in the high school parking lot, dodging cars. His doctor prescribed sitting in a darkened room for a few hours.
• V #2. took family children for long walks, then hid behind trees along the path to take long pulls on a flask.
• I. took acid and made the mistake of being upfront about it with family old people. Was treated with suspicion for decades after.
• A. is a self-published novelist and has had issues with “Jews hiding in the walls” in the past. Note A. is not a blood relative.
• M. once asked if my son Owen’s name was “some kind of Jew name”.
• D. has a shitload of cats
• R. married a Homeopathic Theosophist, a Mormon, and a Mason, back before that sort of thing was done.
• F. was a pachuco.
• Z. had a dog that pissed everywhere. Was swindled by junkie hairdresser
• O. seems to avoid the family, perhaps wisely.
• J #2. was supposed to take me to Disneyland when I was twelve. Never picked me up at the BART station.
• J. is an enthusiastic apologist for Mussolini, remarking that all the Fascist street fighters in Italy did was force their enemies to drink castor oil, which J. gleefully notes, “makes you crap your trousers -- instantly.”
• P. was a Greek gentleman who served in a godfathering role to one of my siblings. He was a wild alcoholic, one who constantly asked women to feel his thighs at family Christmas parties. “Feel my leg, I play tennis. It’s like steel”.
• V. was married to a closeted transvestite. Lives in sort of a twilight splendor in a decaying manse with large, alarming cracks in structurally important walls.
• P #2. Once was founding frying his balls off on acid in the high school parking lot, dodging cars. His doctor prescribed sitting in a darkened room for a few hours.
• V #2. took family children for long walks, then hid behind trees along the path to take long pulls on a flask.
• I. took acid and made the mistake of being upfront about it with family old people. Was treated with suspicion for decades after.
• A. is a self-published novelist and has had issues with “Jews hiding in the walls” in the past. Note A. is not a blood relative.
• M. once asked if my son Owen’s name was “some kind of Jew name”.
• D. has a shitload of cats
• R. married a Homeopathic Theosophist, a Mormon, and a Mason, back before that sort of thing was done.
• F. was a pachuco.
• Z. had a dog that pissed everywhere. Was swindled by junkie hairdresser
• O. seems to avoid the family, perhaps wisely.
• J #2. was supposed to take me to Disneyland when I was twelve. Never picked me up at the BART station.
Labels: Greg's Life As Nincompoop, Weltschmerz
posted by Greg Mills at 12:26 AM
4 Comments:
funny
I was reading the exact same stuff in the tire store today...
Geez , sounds like there`s never a dull moment.
Greg man, off-topic and completely self-promotion here.
My blog is up and running again. You might wanna edit the link.
Hugs to the kids!
“Feel my leg, I play tennis. It’s like steel”. That's my dad! He tells stories of having his hair dresser feel and comment on his strong thighs...
And my uncle (by marriage) was (is?) a closet transvestite. The family has one picture of him in 1970, drunk as stink, wearing his wife's bikini. We're not supposed to mention that picture... or the appartment my uncle shared with one of the Montreal Allouettes (football)...
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