Thursday, December 11, 2014

These Are My Rules

I make them up.  Yes, that line comes from George Carlin.  Grandma Nance and I took a trip to Las Vegas in the early 90's and went to his show.  We laughed our asses off.  We enjoyed his Sports routine and Masturbation bit.  While there, we also saw David Copperfield (mesmerizing), Tom Jones (rocked the house), and Wayne Newton (he sucked).  You wouldn't think an 80-year-old could keep up, but she did.  We both went home winners.  She played my number on the roulette wheel, and I used my craps strategy (I'll share both if you want).  We stayed at Caesar's Palace and had farting contests every night.  Well, really, it was me farting and blaming it on her.

But this isn't about Grandma Nance, as much as I would love to keep writing about her (and will again soon enough, I'm sure).  This is my list of rules.  Remember, I make them up, so if you don't like them, write your own fucking rules.  There's no order here.  Only how that pop into my head.  And I'm in the mood to rant.

1.  Don't shake my hand.  I don't want to touch you.  If you must make contact with me upon greeting, a fist bump will do the trick (I can wipe my knuckles later).  A simple nod works better.  'Sup?

2.  Wear shoes.  I don't want to see your feet.  Honestly, I don't know how you fuckers walk around with flip-flops or sandals.  I'd feel naked without my black Reebok walking shoes.  Been wearing that style since my freshmen year of college when I trudged my ass across campus twice a day.  I even wear bathroom slippers and house slippers while indoors.

3.  Don't send me photos with your pets in them or sign their names on my Christmas card as if they're your children.  They're not your children.  They're not human.  Give them a puppy biscuit for me instead.  If you have a cat (or any other exotic animal), have a brief stare down and tell them it's from me.  That'll suffice.

4.  Put dishes in the dishwasher, not pots and pans.  Wash that shit by hand.  I don't give a fuck if there's a setting for pots and pans.

5.  If you're driving in front of me, just drive.  Defensive drivers cause accidents and need to stay off the roads.  If you use your cell phone while driving, I hope you die.  Just don't take any innocent people with you.

6.  Don't post every intimate detail about your life on Facebook, especially not your political or religious views.  If your friends don't already know you, then they're not your friends.  They're just faces that you're trying to impress.

7. If you invite me to your house (and I realize how seldom this happens - I'm not easy to get along with), don't ask me to bring food.  I'll offer.  And don't make me go outside.  I'm not an animal.  I'm happy inside.  That's why we have shelters.  Outdoor parties are for hunters.  I'm proud to be an indoorsman.

8. Courtesy flush, for the love of God.  I don't want to walk into the bathroom and find your shit streaking the bottom of the bowl.  Here's what you do:  take a shit, flush, wipe your ass, flush, pull up your pants, flush, wash your hands, get out.  Three flushes, and we're good.

9. Avoid small noises.  They're annoying.  Don't tap your feet, crack your knuckles, click your pen, rattle your keys, jingle your change, scrape your silverware, slurp your straw, pop gum, sniff, cough.  You get the idea.  Let me add, don't bite your fingernails.  Holy fuck, is that the worst.  Adults don't need to teethe.  If you're that stressed, get a prescription for Xanax.

10. I guess I'll wrap this up.  Here's something that bothers me:  I walk up to you, but you're already talking to someone else.  That's cool.  I'll wait my turn.  But, acknowledge that you know I'm waiting.  "I'll be with you in a moment" or "give me a second" works just fine.  Don't leave me standing there with my dick in my hands.

2 comments:

  1. Rule 5 seems a little harsh, but all of these- at a second glance over- are relatable.

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    Replies
    1. Cell phones? I'm tired of the ignorant people who use them on the road. It's so dangerous. But, fair enough, the hyperbole is harsh.

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