Sunday, August 19, 2007

This Entry Was Sandbagged

I know, I know, I took a quiz. Silly. Very, very silly.

I was thinking though that finding out which classic work of literature I would be - according to God-Knows-Who - might be interesting. Certainly more interesting than "Which Star Wars Character Are You?" Anyhow, I did not expect these results but that's what you get, no? Cheers.

You're Love in the Time of Cholera!

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by
sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give
consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the
one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions
barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff
could get you killed.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

The White Buffalo and My Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Granddaddy's Penis

My sister called me yesterday and left a threatening voicemail as Kim Jong Il. In it, I was told that failure to contact my sister would, "Resurt in (Kim Jong Il) feeding (my) riferess body to (Kim Jong Il's) shark!" I know there is a more correct way to bracket portions of a quotation that have been changed for continuity of tense or context, but seriously, I just wrote the word "riferess".

I'm not sure exactly when we - and by "we" I mean my sister, myself, and many close friends - began leaving voice mail messages as dubious celebrities/made up characters/political pundits/Evil Masterminds for friends and family, but over the years I have received or left voicemails from/as Jesse Jackson, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Al Sharpton, David Bowie, Christopher Walken, Borat, my friend's Turkish mother, Kim Jong Il, Saddam Hussein, and Mr. T. Sometimes I actually hope whoever I am calling doesn't answer their phone so that I, as Barry Gibb, can implore them to give me a call. I've actually had friends who I have not spoken to in months call me and then, when I answer, tell me to hang up so they can call back and leave their own ridiculous message.

As hilarious as most of these messages have been, there is one that stands out in my mind as the proverbial cake taker. My best friend (And current Brother-in-law...weird) was driving a U-Haul through the most underwhelming part of West Texas when he decided to give me a call as my great, great, great, great, great, great granddaddy from Snyder, Texas. He (My great, great, great, great, great, great granddaddy) had decided it was high time I heard the true tale of Snyder's famous white buffalo. For those of you unfamiliar with the legend of the White Buffalo, I really can't help you. All I know is that there is a statue - a very anatomically correct statue - of a white buffalo on the downtown square in Snyder, Texas. Approaching the town from any direction, one is assured of seeing at least one dilapidated billboard proclaiming Snyder as "The Home of the White Buffalo". The best I can tell, some poor albino buffalo was unfortunate enough to get himself shot in what would later become Snyder, Texas. Why this makes Snyder the "Home of the White Buffalo" and not the "Final Resting Place of the White Buffalo" is anyone's guess. Also, if you don't know Snyder, it seems that his shooting was the last significant thing to have happened there. Hence, the billboards and the anatomically correct statue which, by the way, replaced a previous statue that seemed more well-suited for a putt-putt golf course.

You may be asking yourself, "How did the White Buffalo come to be white?" Well, apparently my great, great, great, great, great, great granddaddy had something to do with it. As was related to me that day in an oddly spry and slightly smoky voice:

Well, me and your great, great, great, great, great, great grandmammy - God rest her soul - was out behind the homestead for a little privacy so we could get it on. I was giving it to the old lady when I looked up and saw a great big ole buffalo grazin' about a hundred yards away. With all the commotion - if you know what I'm sayin' - he looked up from his meal, and when he saw the gargantuan size of my wang he turned plum white, been that way ever since. As you may well know, havin' a giant pecker is a Smith* family tradition. Unfortunately, as you may also well know, it skips every other generation. So, I guess that leaves you with the short end of the more ways than one! He He. Well, later on!

Why a 180 year old man would reach out from beyond the grave to tell his 22 year old great, great, great, great, great, great grandson about the sexual habits/anatomical attributes of he and his wife and how said habits/attributes resulted in the sudden pigment change of a now dead buffalo is beyond me...not to mention the alternating generational particularities of the Smith family line. I guess that's not the point. Why would Kim Jong Il call and threaten to feed my to a shark if I didn't call my sister? Why would Christopher Walken want to know why I hadn't called and then recite a portion of "The Raven"? Why would my buddy's Turkish mother call and ask if I was "Having the sex?"

My answer: Who cares? It's nice to know you have friends and family who want to hear from you. It's even nicer knowing they love you enough to want to make you laugh.

*Seriously, would I post my real last name on here?!