F.I.N.E. (Among other things...)

F: Fucked Up
I: Insecure
N: Neurotic
E: Emotional.

That sounds about right. I'm fine. I had the pleasure of hanging out with my family tonight (my mother's side of the family) and this is one of many educational things I learned tonight.

This post will be laden with several things. I've got a great joke I heard tonight planned for you, and I think I'll start with a brief history on the fam for you.

My daddy's side of the family (you know, the one who's blood DOESN'T course through my veins) is normal. Doctors, Teachers, Entrapraneurs, Accountants...the norm. They have good strong morals, they're decent people, they like to control their environment (and those IN their environment) and they are for the most part pleasant to be around.

To explain my mom's side of the family, I can't use any of the above descriptions. There's Grandpa, who's crotchety unless he's got a Miller Light in his hand, and then he's still crotchety, but he's at least funny whilst crotchety. Grandma is a prude. She didn't use to be. I remember one time when Grandpa pissed her off and she came flying out of the old farm house with a fifth of Jim Beam in one hand and she swiped the garden hoe as she was coming out the door with the other. That was an entertaining 20 minutes while we waited for law enforcement to come rescue Grandpa.

Uncle Jimmy, Mom's youngest brother is brilliant. You heard me, IQ in the upper 170's. Uncle Jimmy ran over a police officer, not once, but six times during a routine traffic stop when the cop caught him coming out of a known crack bar. As per usual, when Uncle Jimmy falls into a bucket of shit, he comes out smelling like a rose every damn time. He only got 2 years worth of prison time for that little stunt (the officer is ok, though he doesn't really work the beat anymore, he got an office job after that.). Jimmy got to be on the evening news. As a matter of fact, Mom and I were sitting on the couch when he debuted. He's literally running hells bells from the police helicopter (and several officers on foot) under the spotlight. It only took the State Police Narcotics dogs about two hours to finally tree him. Lemme just say, he's the apple of my Grandpa's eye. He's got all brains in the world, yet lacks the know how to apply it to his own life. I just want to literally place my fingers around his neck when he climbs up on his soapbox and aims his high moral standards speech at me. I know what he's done, and I know what he's capable of too. I'm the only person in our whole entire family who has stood toe to toe with him and didn't back down from him. I'm also the only one of us he's never hit. (If he does, he better do it good and then run like hell...)

Uncle Kenny, the kid between my mom and Aunt Robin died in 1983 at the age of 23. Lance Corporal Uncle Kenny. He was a good guy, with a good heart, and ended up hitting a tree drunk after a party one night. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 7 years old.

Aunt Robin...my mom's sister. She's a bit eccentric, but I love her to pieces. It's a little eerie looking at your moving, talking, walking, joking dead mother who has accumulated a Texas Accent over the years, and have it be another person. Aunt Robin lives in Texas, and we only see her once a year, if we're lucky. She's married to John, and has a daughter named Bobbye Leigh and a son named Eric. Bobbye is as fucked up as they come, and Eric graduated from Purdue U 1st in his class as an engineer something or other and has been headhunted from corporations and businesses all over the world. He settled in Ohio with his gorgeous girlfriend Casey.

Now that our history is complete and you know the characters, I just have to say that normally, we avoid these meetings when Aunt Robin is home like the plague. Everyone drinks like there's no tomorrow, Grandpa and someone usually gets in a fight, which results in Grandpa climbing on the tractor and trying to run people over, there's all sorts of vocabulary snacks for the kids to pick up (truly...my family has got to be one of the originators of the word fuck. They use it like they own it.) Normally, we prefer to hang out with Aunt Robin on our own and call it good. I like my family. I do...it's just I like them separately, if that makes sense. I can handle Uncle Jimmy. Because when it's just Uncle Jimmy and me, or him and my immediate family, then he's not trying to show the world that he promised my mother's body, while lying in her casket (in prison issue blues with two guards standing behind them with AKA assault rifles strapped to their sides) that he'd take care of me and Cj. When it's just us, he acts like a normal person, and doesn't bother with the bullshit speeches that are meant for everyone else to hear for his benefit, and not mine.

Likewise, I love my Grandparents. But, they're a whole lot less crotchety when it's just them and us and they don't have to compete to hear themselves talk.


The Joke: (As told by Aunt Robin)

A new police officer, new to the department is out looking for his first traffic stop. Sure enough, he sees a female in a Lincoln go flying by doing 80 in a 55. He thinks "Hmmm...I got me a good one."

At the same time, the female in the Lincoln sees him. She thinks to herself "Boy, I've got him pegged." And pulls over to the shoulder.

He approaches the car and says "Maam', may I see your license?"

Lincoln Chick: Um, I'm sorry officer, I don't have a license. They took it away from me after my fourth DUI (Driving Under the Influence).

Officer: Ok. Well, do you have any insurance on this car?

Lincoln Chick: No sir. They cancelled my insurance after my first DUI.

Officer: Well, surely you have the car registered? May I see your registration?

Lincoln Chick: Sir, this car is stolen. I killed the owner, chopped him up in little pieces, and he's in the trunk.

Officer: Lady...you stay RIGHT there. DON'T MOVE.

The green officer backs away from the car and radio's for backup. The closest cop within range is the Chief of Police. He arrives on scene, and stands back, talking to the officer for a few minutes. The Chief of Police approaches the car slowly.

Chief: Maam', do you have ANY identification on you?

Lincoln Chick: Of course. Will my drivers license be sufficient?

Chief (looking a little puzzled): Yes, thank you. Do you have insurance on this car?

Lincoln Chick: It's a 2005 Lincoln. What do you think? Of course I have insurance. (as she hands him the proof.)

Chief (starting to look really confused): Is this car registered to you maam'?

Lincoln Chick: Uh...in order to insure it, it must be registered. You'll see there the insurance is in my name, and here's my registration. Is something wrong officer?!

Chief: Well, Maam', the funny thing is that my officer back there says that you didn't have ID, you didn't have registration, you didn't have insurance, that you stole this car and the owner is dead in the trunk. Do you mind if I have a look in your trunk?

She gets out, shows him the inside of the trunk, and says "God. I bet he'll tell you I was speeding too..."

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