June 20, 2011

bob

Sometimes I really want to write about someone, but I'm afraid of offending or embarrassing them.
So today I hit upon the perfect solution: aliases, nom de plumes.
I love perfect solutions. They're perfect.

I know this guy... Bob.
I talk to him fairly often.
I always laugh.

Bob ran away from home once. On his bicycle. When he was 17. He didn't get far. His loving sister chased him down in the family station wagon and brought him home.
Also, a cop was driving by at the same time and stopped him . That helped convince him home was... advantageous to his health.

One time Bob got mad at his boss at Wendy's.
So he went outside and peed on the building.
But a cop was driving by at the same time so... that was not advantageous to his health.

One time Bob got mad at his boss at Taco Bell.
So he threw one of those mega tubs of mayo out the drive thru window.
Then he fled the scene of the crime thru the same window.
A cop was not driving by at that moment. Which is surprising.

One time Bob shoplifted from Walmart.
Wanna know what he took?
A chicken.
I asked him why he didn't take something more substantial- like a tv, or a pack of batteries, or even chocolate.
He said he was hungry and chicken sounded good.
That reasoning didn't cut it with the cop who happened to be driving by at that moment.

One time Bob heard his sisters were broke so he sent them a bunch of his hard earned money.
Saved their lives.

One time Bob heard his sister was feeling down so he drove 14 hours to go see her, knowing he would have to turn around and drive the 14 hours right back home the next day to be back in time for work.
He didn't care.
He loves her.

One time Bob had a bunch of his brother's tools in his car.
Then his car got impounded.
The tools were never seen again.

Bob used to sit on his sister's bed for hours every evening and make her laugh until she cried.

Bob used to always do the weed eating for his sister. So she didn't have to blink frantically.

Bob gets mad at his sister when she doesn't call him often enough.
He misses her.

One time Bob broke up with his girlfriend because she had blackheads. Maybe it's mean, but I die laughing everytime I think of that.

One time Bob quit a perfectly good job because they told him he couldn't leave on his lunch break.
I asked him why he would do that.
He said he hates eating soggy sandwiches.

Bob calls his sister 'lil shrub.

If someone is gonna run out of gas in the middle of nowhere and have to walk ten miles to the nearest payphone to call for help and get to the payphone only to realize he doesn't have any quarters, that someone will be Bob.
If someone is gonna decide to build an electric guitar in the shed out back and cut his hand on the table saw... 4 times... that someone will be Bob.
If someone is gonna be sick but can't make it to the bathroom in time and throws up on the floor instead, that someone will be Bob.

I kinda have this sneaking feeling that the whole nom de plume thing didn't work, and some of you guys know who Bob is, and maybe I didn't do a very good job of protecting his privacy, and now he's gonna be mad at me for telling everyone he shoplifted a chicken one time, but the chicken incident was so funny I couldn't leave it out.
Oh, what the heck.
Bob is my little brother.
I can't keep a secret.
And I really want to add photos to this post.
But I had really good intentions when I first started out writing this.

Bob does crazy things. Things I wouldn't do in a million years. Things I frown upon and yell at him for.
But it doesn't matter.
He's my laughter.
I love Bob to pieces. With all my heart. I heart Bob.

Me, Bob, and the dead neighbor.

Me, Bob, and my shiny forehead.

Me, Bob, and Daddy