The Germolene Gene gets lost on the way to a funeral

When my grandfather died some years back (father to Aunty Evil), my dad (the Germolene Gene) hopped on a plane from America straight to England for the funeral.

We weren't really too sure how long he would be gone or when to expect him back.

However, we were rather surprised when, 6 days later, my grandmother called us to ask what happened to him.

I can't remember if we actually got confirmation of this or whether we just decided it was the likely reason...but either way, he never left London for the trip up north. Apparently, he was held hostage in a London pub for a week or so.

GG Rules!

Jeff-ism

The Greek are hairy

Stuff it in your cornhole

The Pennsylvania Crew (aka the Mob Gang) will have to alert me to what we called this fanastic athletic game that you are able to play while holding a drink.

You remember ... the one where you throw little beany bag things into a hole in a plank. (That's the scientific description.)

Because Newsweek (that venerable journalistic weekly that some people wouldn't let into their homes, even if I was holding it) has an article about said game this week.

And they call it CORNHOLE. Apparently, no concern for small children going on there.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/42506

I just trademarked your ass

Update: I just got back from some federal office in Washington DC.

I went there with the specific purpose of trademarking the phrase "Blissful Ignorance"

Done.

Now if you ever get an invitation to visit Jeff and Seth at Blissful Ignorance, you best be showing up on my doorstep instead.

Thank you for your concern.

Shout out to Turkey

As everyone should know, there are only two things that can happen down by the docks: Sudden death or a candelight dinner.

Yesterday on GH was a sudden death.

It was a good day.

Our house, in the middle of the street

Adam and I were sitting in the grown up upstairs living room last night and I had one of those split second thoughts of "wow, this is where I live" and then it was gone.

I decided that places don't really feel like home because I've never lived in one place for more than 3 or 4 years in my whole life. I floated this idea by Adam and the following ensued.

K: Maybe if we have kids at the table and family dinner time, it would feel like home.

[WTF???]

A: And you're cooking right?

[Momentary lapse into hysterics]

A: Do you realize that if we had kids, you'd have someone to play games with all the time.

K: Yeah! I'll make them play boggle before they can spell

K: Um,

K: Um,

K: Yeah, but will they want to play with me at 2 a.m. in the morning when I'm drunk?

Read this or else

Sweet and Low by Rich Cohen

Introducing the Germolene Gene

The germolene gene is what my sister and I refer to when we realize in ourselves any unfortunate traits (i.e., bad behavior) that we have inherited from our father - the original Germolene Gene.

These tend to involve too much drinking, being highly antisocial at times, too much drinking, smoking, being an overall a**hole, and a whole load of other things.

Germolene is an ointment sold in England. Kinda like Neosporin for Brits. But back in the day it was really really bright pink and stunk like some approximation of rootbeer.

My father would practically bathe in the stuff (just like JLo with Creme de la Mer), but refused to ever rub it in. It was a sight and a smell to behold.

You'll be hearing more stories in the future about the original Germolene Gene and how his genes have manisfested themselves in his two lovely daughters.

Not now, but whenever I feel like it.

I hate that guy!

I went to see the Arcade Fire on Saturday. Turns out it was one of those all day events with about eight crap bands playing before the main event.

So, after rolling around in the grass all day, we managed to find a nice little spot closer to the stage and behind a large puddle, so there was no one in front to block our view.

And then Youngy McPukester comes along and unloads the contents of his stomach right into the puddle. While that almost made me hurl myself, it got even better when loads of idiots walked straight through said puddle...in sandals. (And in some case mandals.) I tried to warn people for a while, but it was becoming a full-time job so I gave up my job as the vomit police and began to enjoy the show.

And then it happened.

One of my most hated celebrities walked straight through the puke puddle in mandals.

Adam effin Goldberg.

I was so torn between the glee I felt in seeing him walk through puke and the instant rage that I felt just seeing him so up close and personal. It was too much for me to handle.

I don't know what it is about this guy, but all around us we could hear people saying "What's that guy's name? I hate that guy!"

Maybe he could be Mean Monday for Jeff next week.

Where's my other grandma?

We covered the Nanna in depth, but that's got me to thinking about my paternal grandmother - Grandma, as we like call her.

Grandma was happily living in a retirement home for a few years. And then one day, my Aunty Evil came and took her away. After that Aunty Evil took care of stole all Grandma's money.

Some time passed (just like gas) and then Aunty Evil told us that Grandma had died.

Six months previously.

And she wouldn't tell any of us where she was buried.

This was about 15 years ago, and to this day, I don't think anyone knows where Grandma is resting. Or Aunty Evil for that matter.

Me Look Pretty

I'm finally gearing up to renew my driver's license...less than 60 days before the deadline after which, I would have to take the written test and drivers test all over again.

So, the point of this is that I will need a new picture for my license.

JDizzle - Can you grab your camera and meet me at the DMV?

Jeff-isms

This is an ongoing series of recollections of words that come out of the mouth of our dear friend Jeff (aka pop-o-matic):

This is the early stages of Jeff and Seth's move to the wilderness:

"We're going to need a fence....to keep the zombies out."

"I'll need the precious deer arms to hold my rifle."