Merry Christmas 2005
From Brad, Gwen, Odin, Cyrus, <and a player to be named later> Myers
Odin is 5 years old. Cyrus is 3 years old. Gwen is 32 years old. I am younger than all three put together.
What was new? Last year we beat Gilligan down to a healthy weight, Skipper grew cancer, Odin was a “participant” on a soccer team and excelled at gymnastics, Cyrus was cute and smart (more on that later), Gwen was hot, Brad was not.
What’s new now? Big year! The rabbit died- There’s a bun in the oven… or perhaps for our younger crowd- I slipped one past the catcher or the goalie missed the skate save, or more likely, “You said you were on the pill!” So, we are pregnant again. Yes, it was planned. It’s not like we were trying to replace the ones we have, we just wanted one with different junk. However, I got that memo late in the game plan and served up another boy. We’ve narrowed the name selection down but we are taking suggestions. If you have a name suggestion for the third Myers boy, please email me at jibcarrib@gmail.com. If any of you suggest “Oscar” or “Fred”, I’ll be sorely disappointed in your lack of creativity so keep it to yourself- just sit there and giggle about it over your Lucky or Buckhorn beer or go all out and pop a cap off a Bud with that tooth of yours, you deserve it. I expect more from you people!
Odin is in preschool, loves gymnastics, not so fond of soccer. He is a mastermind with Lego’s. Ok, that sounds like I’m being sarcastic but I really mean he’s a jeanous! Mastermind at Lego’s—that’s something I would have said about Gwen when trying to make fun of her. The truth is Odin can create just about anything with Lego’s! He’s very smart and incredibly creative. Ask Gwen about the “cotton balls” story with Odin and his creativity… Wait a minute… There’s a cute story there, get your heads out of the gutter, just be sure to differentiate between “cotton balls” with “Odin” and “cotton balls” with me. Turns out “Cotton balls” is not an STD, and Grape Nuts is just a nasty breakfast cereal, not a nasty breakout… who knew? Odin is a polite and respectful young boy and I couldn’t be more proud of him or the person responsible for bringing him up that way. Well, her and PlayStation 2. Odin always says please and thank you and is just an all around fine young boy. I can’t even poke fun at him he’s so good. Well, I guess the fact that all he wears are Halloween costumes- Bionicle, Power Ranger, Spiderman, Wolverine, Rhino, Dragon – should be fodder enough, but he’s quite good with his Ranger Sword and Power Ups. It’s just a little sad that he’s not into something way cool like Dungeons and Dragons.
Cyrus is the most adorable kid you’ll ever meet. Yes, even more than your kid, I’m sorry. However, this is the “more on that later” part I mentioned above... I’ve been chastised in past Christmas letters because people were concerned that the boys would read these later and resent me for what I’ve said. Trust me, what I’ve said about them is far more loving than what I’ve done to them. Resentment is a welcome consideration given kids these days pack heat like we packed socks in our under…never mind. Any fun I poke at them now is just callusing to prepare for all the ribbing they’ll get in school. Having said that, and before the authorities come, Cyrus has a – bit – of – a – speech ------ delay. The kid repeats anything you say, and the words sound just like what you said, it’s so cute, even if you’re drunk and slur your words, he sounds just like you. Anyway, having him tested revealed a speech delay that allowed him to go to private schoolfree which is something we can’t affordfree but since it is a nationallyfree sponsored program, we really had to suck it up and send him. The downside? Apart from the out of pocketfree expense we incur, Cyrus does ride the “short bus” to school. He’s sans hockey helmet but sits next to a boy that licks windows, but did I mention Cyrus is adorable? Unfortunately, I have to admit that he is just like me. He’s got the messed up eyebrow (in his case it’s only one of his eyebrows) and I had speech therapy in third grade so he’s really ahead of the curve. Also, I sucked my thumb until I was in the fifth grade and he doesn’t rely on anything phallic to help him get through the hours of darkness during his crate training like I did.
Gilligan and Skipper are still alive and well. Except for cancer and fierce farting these guys are the best pups ever. I know I bring this up every newsletter, but do you think I make this stuff up? Gilligan releases farts that burn our nasal passages and the smell actually wakes us up and causes nausea and eye weep. Our gasps hurt his feelings so he gets up and skulks to the closet- this explains the smell of our clothes. So you see we have a serious problem. This is really just a plea for ideas to cure this type of farting, if you have any suggestions please send email to jibcarrib@gmail.com. I don’t want to hear any stuff about feeding them better food either, that’s crap. First, we’ve tried that and it doesn’t work— People have said things like, “They’ll poop less.” Oh yeah, that’s laughable, just try playing Bocce Ball or Croquet in our yard- you never know who’s winning because everyone is using a “brown” ball. Games of freeze or TV tag quickly turn into Stinky tag and result in our washing machine clogged with crap clumps. Also, the cost of that “better” food is well out of our budget- did you read the part about privatefree schooling for Cyrus earlier? We can’t afford it, Odin has soccer lessons. We will continue to mix the dry food with dryer lint for filler until we find a product that fills, plugs, and produces coin for excrement. Again, contact jibcarrib@gmail.com to discuss ideas or register complaints- or to be removed from this Christmas newsletter.
Then there’s Gwen. She’s still working from home and raising our boys and growing a third. You all know her…or wish to be her. Not “wish to be her” like married to me, because apparently she’s still in the dark about my appearance, taste, tact, weight, length, girth, age, sensitivity, etc. But “wish to be her” like the way she’s always fun, always pretty, and always caring. I’m sure you’re all like that too, you won’t get any arguments here, but there is just a huge difference between Gwen and each of you. It’s a quality none of you have and actually wouldn’t want. It’s me. Gwen is amazingly special without me—but even more amazingly special with me. Relax, that’s not saying I’m cool, it means that for all of my problems, character flaws, sexual deficiencies, stunted growth, hair loss, hair gain, and perpetual aging, she’s still amazing and in love with me! Have you ever spent a large amount of time with someone that just saps the room of any energy? Sherry knows what I’m talking about. Basically, you have a beautiful energy source in a room and an overweight energy sponge on the couch and no matter how much that sponge absorbs, that energy source keeps spewing more energy. Ok, enough with the obscure references (trust me, a few beers and some heavy metal music and that stuff I just wrote is gold). It’s funny how when I had just decided to write something serious about how special Gwen is I got lost for words. Honestly, it’s easy to throw out some poo humor or self deprecating remarks (that word is ‘deprecating’, not ‘defecating’, although I could have killed two birds with one stone there) but when I tried to think of concrete words to express this, I’m empty.
Anyway, I never want to sound trite when it comes to Gwen because ‘best friend’ isn’t enough and ‘love of my life’ gets me beat up on guys night out, so let’s not say those. It’s just this: I’ve known Gwen for twelve years and that’s a third of my life (and some change) and that’s been better than the other two-thirds. That includes the one-fourth of the first third when I was fed and wiped by someone else and it includes the second half of the first two-thirds when all the cool stuff happened to all of us, remember that? YEAH, high-five! The interesting thing is that the last third of my life (and some change) which has been the best is coincidentally the third of my life that I either met all of you, or retained all of you from the first two thirds, making you really important to me as well. Wow, that is so cool how I did a 180 there and made everyone I care about confused and yet still feel special. I meant it all.
Me? I’m still not doing what I want to do and I hate what I’m doing while I try to find what I should do. Meanwhile, I’m confused about what I should do for my family and what I want to do with what I’m capable of doing and can still make enough money to support a family and a vicious heroine problem. Therapy says to stick with what you know which puts me in a tough spot since I don’t know anything. My dealer says I should do what makes me feel good which is the same as what all those web sites I browse are saying. The gym I have a membership at tells me I’m fat and that I should get in shape which is the same thing my doctor says so I stopped seeing both of them. One day I’ll realize I enjoy writing and start doing it for a living but who’ll buy what I write? I’m actually paying $0.37/ea to get this crap out to you.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Sorry.