Still Kickin’… JOISEY Style!

Well, shit, no ‘Pocolypse, no zombies, no reason for this machete.  Wait, there’s ALWAYS a reason for a machete… such as tomorrow’s planned excursion to visit with the Concubine’s Insane Yankee Family.

Apparently this trip has been quote-unquote- “planned” for some time, but at T-minus 24 hours before takeoff, no one seems to know exactly what that plan IS.  I feel safe in saying we’re SUPPOSED to be going into The City to meet up with some family to eat something, and we may possibly be going up to Connecticut to see Stepbrother Luke.

BUT… and there’s always a but (unlike my own family, where there’s always a butt, and it’s usually either me or Dear Sweet Mama).  No one seems to know what/where/when/IF this City-Eating is actually going to take place, which makes Hoody ultra-agitato — we all know I like to have my meals planned in advance!  Although this is not a major problem, because even if The Fam can’t figure out what/where/when to eat, there sure as byGAWD ain’t no “if” in the Jedi Way of Hoody:  I’ll be over at the falafel cart if y’all need me, there is no try.

BUT ALSO… no one has heard from Stepbrother Luke as to whether or not he is amenable to this happy holiday visit.  Now, y’all know when it comes to folks just “dropping in” — Hoody don’t play dat.  But Luke makes me look downright hospitable, y’all… and we may be descending upon him without his permission.

I hope his fucking Christmas present gets here today… either that or my Kevlar.



Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, La Vida Loca, On the Road Again

7 responses to “Still Kickin’… JOISEY Style!

  1. Are you sure we aren’t related? This mirrors the “plan” my W by gawd V relatives have every single fucking holiday.
    “Is she going to bring the kids?”
    “Maybe. It depends.”
    “Is Cousin D coming?”
    “Maybe. It depends.”
    “How is Uncle W?”
    “He’s wearin’ Depends.”


  2. I’m sure the trip will be great. If Luke isn’t amenable to a visit, you can just fling gifts at him and run.


  3. I’d bail faster than a one-armed man in a leaky rowboat.


  4. This sounds eerily familiar. My son is Uncle Luke. I don’t know how that happened.

    “Luke, I am your mother.”


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