While I'm over here doing my thing, there is a great bunch of folks back home waiting for me. Most of them snore, and one spends a little too much time licking herself, but all in all...I'd say they're swell. Since the internet is filled with crazies who do nothing more than read blogs all day, then try to track down the subjects in order to fulfill some lifelong fantasy they've only had for two weeks, I'll use codenames for my family's safety. You may remember these a zany characters from TV shows of yore.
Chesty LaRue...NO...Busty St.Claire (the wife)
My marriage to Chesty has spanned three decades. It only adds up to 15 years...but still. Chesty and I are the perfect match. Oh wait, it's Busty. Anyway, Busty is a real go-getter. She works as hard as anyone I've ever met at everything she does. Busty has an unfortunate tendency to beat herself up when she shouldn't. It's my hope that one day she will cut herself some slack.
You're doing a great job, Busty. I love you!
Stay off my side of the bed!
Slim Goodbody (the oldest boy)
A father looks at his firstborn son and says “that boy is going to grow up to be something special.” It's only when they become teenagers that we realize “something special” is the guest of honor in a shallow grave out back. Slim has quite a few things going for him. He's smart, he's handsome (you're welcome, son), and he has a mostly friendly disposition. He also has the decision-making skills of rancid horseradish.
If you read this son, remember two things:
- Mom and I love you.
- As a high school graduation present to you, we're changing the locks.
Punky Brewster (my baby girl)
Punky isn't a baby anymore, which I think is completely unfair. My daughter is growing up to be a beautiful, intelligent young lady. She's finally embracing sports, after many mornings of her giving me the 'glare of death' on our morning runs. Yes indeed, Punky is headed for greatness.
That's assuming she isn't eventually swallowed by her messy room. Prior to my deployment, I had only seen her completely uncluttered floor a grand total of three times in a year.
Punky, Punky, Punky...
Incredible Hulk (the baby...HA!)
We knew Hulk would be a handful the day he was born. 11.5 lbs; natural delivery; no time for drugs...give Busty some props! At two minutes old, he captured the delivery room's attention when the doctor said, “holy $%!@, he's holding his head up and looking around!” For all of you sexists out there, the doctor was a woman; now apologize for thinking some crusty old man used crude language in the delivery room.
Hulk's destiny has been clear for many years. He will take over some small-to-medium sized South American country and rule with an iron fist. I estimate this to happen in roughly 25 years, so plan your vacations accordingly.
Oreo (the dog)
Oreo is the dog's real name. No...I don't care about her safety. She licks herself and leaves fur all over the house. She also has a nasty habit of shoving her nose in your crotch...even when she's not invited.
I considered adding my mother, sister, niece, and nephew to this blog; but securing their permission from the other side of the world is a little difficult. However, if any of you read this blog and wish to be added to the Chris Jones Roast Series, shoot me an email.
Until next time!
ckj
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