Sunday, November 24, 2013

Except Nobody's Tried To Kill JR

So did I tell y'all about the time I came rolling up to my house and there was a vehicle from the state in my driveway?  No shit.  It had the official state seal on the door and everything.  And I was like what the fuck?  And I walked inside, expecting to see men with black suits and dark glasses talking into their wrists, (and I was mentally preparing myself because I was secretly like oh shit ... please tell me this where I meet Tommy Lee Jones.  Because let's face it people, he's old, but he was pretty fucking hot back in the day.) but it was just a couple of normal looking people sitting at the kitchen table with my mom.  And I gotta say, I was more than a little disappointed.  Because meeting Tommy Lee Jones would have been fucking awesome.

Turns out, Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones was telling my mom that the surrounding ground water in our area has arsenic in it.  I know what you're thinking... Are you fucking kidding me?! Arsenic?! How are you still alive?!  And here's the answer:  Because it's like ALL of the superhero stories where the toxin doesn't kill you but enters your blood stream and transforms you all cool like, and then you end up becoming the fucking Hulk.  Which is awesome.

At least, that's what I would've said if Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones hadn't mentioned that the levels of toxic-ness weren't concerningly high (by the way, spell check just said that "concerningly" isn't a real word. and to spell check I say, fuck you, it most concerningly is).  APPARENTLY, adding a little chlorine to the mix would solve the problem right up, and my hopes of becoming The Hulk went down the drain when Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones ordered a chlorine-pump-filter-thing.

A few days later, I came rolling up to my house, and Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones's sidekick was halfway under the kitchen sink installing the chlorine-pump-filter-thing, and I was pissed because he had to "temporarily" shut off the water to the house, and I had to freaking pee because I had been holding it for like the last five hours.  So I ran next door to my grandma's house. (And because I know you're going to ask,  because everybody does .... yes. I live next door to my grandma.  And my aunt.  And my uncle.  And my cousin.  And less than 5 minutes away is another one of my aunts, another uncle, and another cousin.  Because it's like fucking Dallas, yo.  And we're the fucking Ewings.)

Shortly after Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones's sidekick installed the chlorine-pump-filter-thing, Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones realized that there was actually TOO MUCH chlorine in the water, and said to take the shit out.  So Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones's sidekick had to come back and uninstall the chlorine-pump-filter-thing.  So now we're back to arsenic.  Which is fine by me.  I've apparently been drinking the shit for more than 20 years, it tastes a hell of a lot better than the chlorine water, and my hopes of one day becoming The Hulk are restored.  That is, until Not-Tommy-Lee-Jones comes back in a few weeks to kill the dream again.

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