Basically here’s the low down: I had my computer privileges taken away for a week because… because…? I think I was talking back??? Or could it be I snuck out after curfew? Wait! I think it was because I mumbled “child abuser” under my breath when Dad popped me for feeding Cooper my table scraps. Whatever the reason, I woke up to eat some Honey Smacks (love that Frog, dagnabit) and watch cartoons (Go Diego Go, to be specific) and my laptop was confiscated from my work station.
I immediately ran into my parent’s room, jumped on Mom’s face and shrieked, “Someone’s stolen my central processing unit and now I can’t blog!!! What the hell…” and was interrupted with, “Joe, it is 6 am. Your laptop wasn’t stolen, and you need to get off me.”
My rebuttal: “But but it was! And you guys need to get a security alarm pronto. I don’t know how it is in Mumbai,
but in Atlanta, we don’t go stealin other people’s possessions; especially a little boy’s only communication to the outside world…which brings me to another point of concern I’ve been meaning to share with you both…I’m officially a PORKER.
We never go running anymore! Hell, my neon pink headband,
which is usually soaked with sweat, is dryer than a popcorn fart. Cooper keeps telling me to suck it up and stick my pawpaw down my throat (not trying to tattle, but I think he takes diet pills too…skinny bastard). I’d rather stick with an all-natural weight loss program. You know like, herbal remedies, exercise… that sort of thing. Not persistently purging chicken rice and water. I’ll pass, thanks.”Silence…… snoring……drooling….rolling over.
“Mom!! Did you hear me? I’m a fat lard of pooh and everyone knows it! You know how Gmama gets on you about your weight because you’re abnormally short?
And I heard her say that when short people stack on 5 pounds it makes it look like 20? Well thanks a lot for the genetics, Betsey! If I had just one inch of Grandma Sue’s height, I’d be cookin’ with gas.” “Julian. First of all, don’t be chauvinistic towards our neighbors. I know there’s an overabundance of Indians living around us, but for the most part, they’re nice people. Secondly, Dad and I discussed how absolutely filthy your mouth is and how disobedient you’ve been lately, and we decided to take away your rights to blog for a week. You clean up that dirty-ass mouth and attitude, and you can get it back. Thirdly, you’re not a porker. The only weight you’ve gained is from the Leikenkugal Summer Shandy
you steal from me when you think I’m not looking, and you pouting when we don’t give you seconds at dinner… so why don’t you build a bridge and get over it.”Let me just say, I was revolted that my mother 1. Labeled me as racist. 2. Reaffirmed my fatness is from utter glut of beer, food and laziness and 3. Used a really lame comeback.
I could only respond with, “Well… I NEVER!!” and stormed out of the room in a fit of
rage to only indulge in my self-pity and an oversized bag of bagel chips (muy delicioso, [just a little glimpse of my Spanish. Thanks Diego!]).
I decided to show my parents that I’m not a brat. Just to prove how much blogging really does mean to me, I didn’t udder a single word about it during the holiday weekend.
Speaking of the holidays, here’s a slightly condensed recap:
Friday night, zapped a Hungry Man’s meal. Watched How It’s Made. Played online poker. Won twice, lost once. Had a few O’Douls. Put me to sleep. Dreamed about finding Max’s detached tail and leaving it in his water bowl. Saturday, woke up to Mom and Dad packing. Booked it to Griffin. Saw Gmama. Smothered her with meechums. Chased Mary. Cooled down. Chased Mary again. Slurped Bailey’s water. Nested in Bailey’s bed. Watched Bailey lose it. Went to see Aunt Ali, Annie and Ollie. Was mauled by Ollie. Cried. Cried some more. Went swimming. Met new friends. Did a little dance. Made a little a love. I got down that night. Sunday, snuck out of the house. Got in trouble. Sun-bathed. Went swimming again. Booked it back to Atlanta. Went to bed at 11. Woke up at 3 and puked. Woke up at 5:30 and puked again. Went to Grandma Sue’s for the 4th. Puked in Mom’s car on the way. Puked on Grandma Sue’s oriental rug. Puked on Grandma Sue’s outdoor rug. Puked on Grandma Sue’s mat. Napped. Woke up to sparklers in my face. Cried. Cried some more. Passed out.
Phewww! Hope everyone's 4th was filled with a little less pukage and a lot more pie! Just want to say thank you to my parents for allowing me to blog again. Guess I’ll leave you boys with one of my more thoughtful Julianisms:
“Get lifted from your soul. Top it off with sound, don’t you know.”
Oh.. and this... is America.
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