I recently received a message from one of my friends, Shoobedoo, about how her son, Pvt. Caboose, liked my last blog so much that he reposted it complete with my brother's additions (a shout out to both of you by the way...woot!). Rereading it with my brother's input added made me realize how similar both our senses of humor are (now follow me here, this is the way my train of thought works when allowed to go unchecked)....which led me to think to myself, "well of course, we're both cut from the same jib." Dramatic pause....then, "What in the path of God's good Fart is a Jib anyways?" This led to a mental image of a medium sized, opaque grey grelatinous cube just wiggling alone on a stand...the ever elusive jib in all it's glory! "What a clever looking jib!", someone might say. "I'll cut two pieces from it and release them into the world to see if anyone can tell that they came from the same jib...A CONTEST I DECLARE!!" ...followed by the removal of two corners, because honestly...that's where you'd start cutting a cube. Then I thought of all the mishapen cuts made from non-corners of the jib and what the kinds of people that would make....flash to an image of Nelson (see earlier blog) pointing at things with his elbows. Enter now another person who sees the molested jib. "Who the hell's been cutting on the jib?!" - "Oh, that was me. Sorry." - "Who said you could just go and cut on the jib?! Just look at it now!" - "Wait a minute, why the fuck do I have to ask for permisson to cut the jib?" - "Is it your jib? NO! I don't think so! Do you know how hard it is to find these things anymore?" - "Wait a minute! Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?!"
At this point I find myself yet again alone and laughing out loud to myself, and I wonder if Clint ever hears this upstairs and just thinks that I'm insane? I think my jib was left out in the sun too long before my brother and I were cut from it...that definately would explain the sour milk smell.
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