twice the smartass, half the laughs
My Braggartly Ways and Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend
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Chuck says I'm braggadocious. Chuck likes making up words. I say I'm braggartly, which I'm not entirely convinced is a word either. The point is this: among my family, friends, acquaintances, peers, and basically anyone who's ever spent more than five minutes with me, the general consensus is that I can come off as a bit of a braggart. See there, even in that statement, it's like I'm bragging that it only takes five minutes with me for you to come to that conclusion. What can I say? I know what I'm good at, and I don't mind a bit telling you about it (Of course, if you've ever read my blog, you don't have to be told that, do you? DO you?). It's something I admire about myself (Though that really falls under the guise of narcissism, what has already been thoroughly covered by yours truly.). Sometimes, however, braggadociousness (You like that?) can get you in a bit of a pickle. And, by "you", I mean me. And, by "a bit of a pickle" I mean being asked to do something because you claim to be good at it. Want an example? Like you have a choice. (Actually, you do. Just stop reading. Go ahead, you won't hurt my feelings. No, wait! Stop! I was kidding. You will hurt my feelings. Please don't go. Boo-hoo.)

This past weekend, my wife (her loveliness), my daughter (her gatorness) and I (his braggartness) went to visit my family in Lake Charles, or as I've affectionately dubbed it, "The Chuck" (Or, as Chuck has affectionately dubbed it, "That Shit hole"). Things went pretty well. We got a chance to meet my newest nephew, Derek (He's so little and light. Simply adorable.), as well as seeing a few of my relatives, who I see far too infrequently. Allee got a chance to see Nannee (my mom), G (my dad), her Tonti (my sister Shelly), and her cousin L.J. for the second time in two weeks (very rare indeed). They were all at Allee's birthday party two weeks ago. It was at this birthday party where I may or may not have bragged about my grilling skills (and as you already know, by "may or may not have", I mean I totally did). Specifically, I mentioned the how wicked awesome the pork tenderloin I grilled up some weeks back was. Well, guess who got elected to grilled up some pork tenderloins this weekend? If you guessed Doug, you're way off base, cause he wasn't even there. No, of course it was me. Actually, what was initially asked of me was to show up early and help my dad set up. Then, the tenderloins were brought up, and I thought "Sure, no problem. I'll rock those loins" (Man, if I had a dollar for every time I said that...). So, the stage was set, I picked out the meat the night before, and marinated them overnight. I show up early and help my dad set up the grill and take him to buy a new grill brush. (That was really just an excuse to give him a ride in the new wheels. Oh, did I not mention the new wheels? Never mind, we'll get to that.) Well, I had left Shelley and Allee at the hotel, so when I was sure that dad has things under control, I left to pick them up. Upon my return, dad was taking the first round of burgers and dogs off the grill. "Nice" I thought to myself, "I guess I'd better go check the heat to see if the tenderloins can go on or not." What I was unaware of, though, was that my dad had actually taken those burgers and dogs off the grill, like six seconds after he had put them on. See, someone might have suggested to load the grill down with enough charcoal to warm up hell. Can you guess who that was? If you guessed Shelley then....yeah, that'll work. It was Shelley. (Mmmm hmmm. sure it was.) Well, I offered to man the fiery inferno for my dad for a minute, and then...he disappeared. So, guess who ended up manning the grill all day? If you guessed anyone other than me, you really are quite shitty at this game. So, hot and sweaty, and filthy was I (what else is new right) as I finally pulled what everyone had been waiting for off the grill. My "wicked awesome" pork tenderloins. Timidly, almost sheepishly, I brought them inside and carved them up. How would they be received? Would anyone like them? Pins and needles baby, what would they think? What do you think? Wicked awesome baby. where DID you think I was going with this, anyway. Do you really think I'd dedicate any space to this if they totally sucked? Well, unfortunately, I probably would.

Now, on to another topic (briefly peeps. Settle down.). I had this friend. My friend's name is Logan. We've been together for twelve years. We hooked up when I was eighteen, and he stayed with me through my twenties. He helped me move to pretty much every place I've ever moved to. He was with me in Natchitoches, hauling shit to gigs. He was a part of me. Those who knew me, knew him, or, at least, had seen him. He's not with me anymore. I new this time was coming, but I didn't want it too. What could I do? I couldn't stop it. I thought I could, but I was only fooling myself. Twelve years is a long time, and it's left me with some good memories, but, time moves on, and changes happen. So, as hard as it might be, all I can say is "Goodbye Logan." You were a good truck.

Until next time: My pants are tight (my pants are tight).