He started with “I not Turner, I Penguin.” Then he was “Bird”, then “Boots the monkey” and then “I NUFFING. YOU JUST CALL ME NUFFING”. And so it’s gone for the past month or so. Today, he woke up from a nap and informed me that he no longer wants to be called Rooster. Now he is Mr. Reynolds. With the focus on the MISTER as in “show a little goddamn respect.”
I thought he was saying “Mr. Wiggles” at first. A quick post-nap backhand across my face cleared that up pretty quickly. (Don’t judge. He was half asleep. He doesn’t usually hit when he is awake….that much.) I finally guessed “Mr. Reynolds” based on his phonetic shrieks. When I asked him where he heard the name, he acted as if it was the most idiotic question in the world. “It’s me” (you retard was, of course, implied) “I MISTER REYNOLDS!”
I’m seriously thinking of taking him to a past life therapist.
@dennick took this great photo of Turner and his drug induced hallucination (aka @terriblyundone)
He struck up a conversation on facebook tonight. He has a 3 year old son and is about to finish medical school. He asked how I’ve been. I offered the obligatory gushing about his son’s beauty. Said it was good to talk to him and congratulated him on med school. He again asks, “how about you?”
How about me indeed? We really aren’t close enough now for me to have a decent answer to that question. I’m a little embarrassed to say I kind of forgot he existed. Thus, under the circumstances, how can I possibly explain my unwavering belief that someone cursed me recently so I’m now in the process of exploring spells to undo the curse? And it is clearly inappropriate to share today’s enlightening realization that my younger brother is probably a sociopath. (I know, but it only sounds upsetting. In reality, recognizing his sociopathy explains so much for me)
Facebook also does not allow for the context I would need to explain my renewed hope after I made the decision to actively seek full-time placement in a group home for low functioning adults once the kids are grown. Just as I knew he wouldn’t see me talking myself out of a head first dive into a bottle of vodka as a success for today, I understood that these little victories would be lost in translation on the way to the facebook wall.
So yeah, I’m good. Not much is new. Thanks for asking….
M: Turner you just paved your own road to hell.
T: Stupid farmer!
M: (throws Japanese candy at his brother)
(screaming, apparent flicking, malicious giggles, threats from the driver’s seat about what happens to little trouble mongers who don’t behave in the car)
T: So what? you are a stupid elephant.
M: (in an alarmingly rapid and singsongy voice) Elephants don’t wear z-straps. Elephants don’t wear pants. Elephants don’t wear yellow underwear. Elephants don’t wear ben ten shirts. Elephants don’t ride in car seats. Elephants don’t throw Japanese candy (small thwack sound and scream from turner as Max does not stop litany) Elephants don’t have bookbags. Elephants don’t have moms….named crse. Elephants don’t have haircuts…….(I can hear the smiling threat in his taunt) but know what Turner? Elephants DO kill their brothers named Turner!
Me: MAX ALEXANDER YOU DO NOT SAY THAT
M: (without changing tone or missing a beat) Sorry mom. Elephants DO DESTROY their brothers named Turner.
Remember the Christopher Walken driving scene in Annie Hall? Yeah.
1. He spent the entire day yesterday teaching the first grade class about the “astrologically true and accurate time of seder”.
2. During his “lesson”, he warned the children about the evils of eating pork. In detail. Meaning that he described both the specific evils of pork consumption and the specific meats that are classified as pork.
3. He became tearful during recess duty as he shared his fear for his brother’s soul as said brother apparently has a tattoo and the bible clearly forbids marking the skin in a permanent manner.
4. He also tells the class that he is “fasting” this week which means he is only eating yogurt, cheese, and unleavened bread.
5. He is performing this fast to “purify” himself for his visit to the “holy farm” this weekend.
6. While discussing gardening with you over lunch, he stated that he is planning on getting some goats this summer with the end goal of being able to live completely off his own land.
Yes, in fact, I do think I can make a case for the fact that your client’s first grade teacher is in a cult. And I have to confess I’m a little alarmed that you don’t believe me.
Arguing with him is like wrestling jello. Except if you are thinking about bitch-slapping the jell-o the whole time. So in essence, I guess arguing with him is like trying to bitch-slap jell-o. Or maybe I just really want to bitch-slap him. A lot.
A situation best expressed through the following text conversation.
Me: Jesus friended me on Facebook today. Do you know anything about this?
Dennick: Yes…he and i had lunch the other day….and i mentioned you needed a savior.
Me: So my bank balance is still negative 7 dollars, but he friends me on Facebook? This is exactly how people lose faith.
Me: Don’t tell him I said that ok?
Dennick: He knows hon. He knows.
Me: Seriously is it you?
Dennick: Dude….do you really think I have time for Jesus shenanigans?
Me: I think he reads my twitter. He knew my code name.
I’m happy to report that, through the Facebook wall-to-wall feature, I was able to determine that a) Jesus was not upset by the good friday pulverized taco comparison b) will only smite me if I get lame and c) is coming to my memorial day picnic. Regarding c, although I asked him to, he did NOT promise not to make a scene and his response to to the invitation was a bit more sarcastic than one would expect regarding his stance on agape. “Of course I’ll be there..I’m omni-present..duh!”
