God don't like ugly
Cuz was confused from the get go and harbored major insecurities. He couldn't decide on which name to go by, first introducing himself as Cuz, then his family nickname Bubba, and then his childhood name Junior. Now it's not all his fault. He was saddled with a family name that was 3 or 4 generations in the making, and all the available nicknames were already in use. But usually, sometime in adolescence, a person will develop a sense of identity and will choose one name to go by.
Cuz/Bubba/Junior had other problems, however. He shared a house with his dad and grandpa, a house that was in total disarray. Why was the tupperware stored in the den? Why were there boxes stacked to the ceiling? It was such a mess I was tempted to clean everytime I was there, and those of you who know me, can appreciate how nasty it must have been to drive me into the arms of domesticity. Let's not even discuss the bed he called his "banana boat", a twin sized bed that sagged so much in the middle it resembled a hammock swaying in the breeze. A bed whose structural integrity was so dubious I refused to sit on it. I watched "The Sixth Sense" standing up the entire time rather than take a ride on the "banana boat".
And through a sick twist of fate, it was discovered that one of my roommates, a founding member of the Kook Aid gang, whom I will explain at length another time, was related to Cuz! The 2 of them actually sat down and discussed who was at the most recent family reunion and traded info so that the family historian could be in touch!
But I digress.
One Friday, about 3 weeks into our relationship, Cuz, who was a hot shot delivery driver, was to pick me up after work so we could go out. After I'd gotten home and ready for our date, he called and said he wasn't coming.
I sat there seething into the telephone. I have to stages of anger; mildly pissed where I can cuss you out and throw shit and full blown bitch mode. Cuz met the latter that night. In full blown bitch mode I will of course deny that anything is wrong. But then I will refuse to speak at all, deferring to the awesome weight of silence.
Not the brightest bulb on the tree, Cuz chose FBBM as the time to tell me of our plans for the next night. "I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow and we're gonna go to my friends' house for dinner."
"WHAT?! You accepted an invitation for me and didn't tell me about it?"
"Well my friends want to get to know you."
"I'm still trying to get to know you," I told him. "I don't want to meet your friends."
And here, folks is where Cuz made his fatal error, "You can either meet my friends or I just don't see the point in coming out there."
An ultimatum?! Who the holy fucking hell does he think he is to give me an ultimatum? I seethed into the phone for another long while.
"You think about it tonight and let me know in the morning," he told me.
With my mind already made up that nobody nowhere nohow is gonna give me an ultimatum, and that I'd show his ass an ultimatum I hung up counting down the minutes til morning when I could call him.
As soon as my eyes popped open that Saturday morning, before I even got out of bed to pee, I called Cuz to give him my reply. The phone rang several times and was answered by Cuz's pleading voice, "Baby I already know what you're gonna say and you gotta believe me I learned my lesson cuz God don't like ugly."
"Mmmm hmmmm," was the best I could offer up.
"Well after we talked last night I was pretty mad," he began. He was pretty mad? I was down right livid. "I rode my motorcycle (not a Harley, people, a damned crotch rocket) over to my buddy's shop and we drank some beers."
"How many beers?" I asked, sensing something ugly on the horizon.
"I had an 18 pack." ????? Did I mention he was not the brightest crayon in the box? "But I was okay to drive home. And I pulled out of the driveway and this drunk guy hit me."
What ,pray tell, qualifies you as drunk to a guy who just polished off 18 damn beers?
"He ran you over?"
"No. He swerved and hit the side of my motorcycle."
"You spilled on the bike?" My brother briefly owned a donorcycle and I had seen some of his injuries.
"No. I held it up."
Apparently, Cuz, in all his manly strength, put his feet on the pavement to steady the bike, and at that precise moment, the drunk guy's bumper hit Cuz's leg, breaking it in 3 places and leaving him with a permanent limp. A friendly little constant reminder that God don't like ugly.
Cuz/Bubba/Junior had other problems, however. He shared a house with his dad and grandpa, a house that was in total disarray. Why was the tupperware stored in the den? Why were there boxes stacked to the ceiling? It was such a mess I was tempted to clean everytime I was there, and those of you who know me, can appreciate how nasty it must have been to drive me into the arms of domesticity. Let's not even discuss the bed he called his "banana boat", a twin sized bed that sagged so much in the middle it resembled a hammock swaying in the breeze. A bed whose structural integrity was so dubious I refused to sit on it. I watched "The Sixth Sense" standing up the entire time rather than take a ride on the "banana boat".
And through a sick twist of fate, it was discovered that one of my roommates, a founding member of the Kook Aid gang, whom I will explain at length another time, was related to Cuz! The 2 of them actually sat down and discussed who was at the most recent family reunion and traded info so that the family historian could be in touch!
But I digress.
One Friday, about 3 weeks into our relationship, Cuz, who was a hot shot delivery driver, was to pick me up after work so we could go out. After I'd gotten home and ready for our date, he called and said he wasn't coming.
I sat there seething into the telephone. I have to stages of anger; mildly pissed where I can cuss you out and throw shit and full blown bitch mode. Cuz met the latter that night. In full blown bitch mode I will of course deny that anything is wrong. But then I will refuse to speak at all, deferring to the awesome weight of silence.
Not the brightest bulb on the tree, Cuz chose FBBM as the time to tell me of our plans for the next night. "I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow and we're gonna go to my friends' house for dinner."
"WHAT?! You accepted an invitation for me and didn't tell me about it?"
"Well my friends want to get to know you."
"I'm still trying to get to know you," I told him. "I don't want to meet your friends."
And here, folks is where Cuz made his fatal error, "You can either meet my friends or I just don't see the point in coming out there."
An ultimatum?! Who the holy fucking hell does he think he is to give me an ultimatum? I seethed into the phone for another long while.
"You think about it tonight and let me know in the morning," he told me.
With my mind already made up that nobody nowhere nohow is gonna give me an ultimatum, and that I'd show his ass an ultimatum I hung up counting down the minutes til morning when I could call him.
As soon as my eyes popped open that Saturday morning, before I even got out of bed to pee, I called Cuz to give him my reply. The phone rang several times and was answered by Cuz's pleading voice, "Baby I already know what you're gonna say and you gotta believe me I learned my lesson cuz God don't like ugly."
"Mmmm hmmmm," was the best I could offer up.
"Well after we talked last night I was pretty mad," he began. He was pretty mad? I was down right livid. "I rode my motorcycle (not a Harley, people, a damned crotch rocket) over to my buddy's shop and we drank some beers."
"How many beers?" I asked, sensing something ugly on the horizon.
"I had an 18 pack." ????? Did I mention he was not the brightest crayon in the box? "But I was okay to drive home. And I pulled out of the driveway and this drunk guy hit me."
What ,pray tell, qualifies you as drunk to a guy who just polished off 18 damn beers?
"He ran you over?"
"No. He swerved and hit the side of my motorcycle."
"You spilled on the bike?" My brother briefly owned a donorcycle and I had seen some of his injuries.
"No. I held it up."
Apparently, Cuz, in all his manly strength, put his feet on the pavement to steady the bike, and at that precise moment, the drunk guy's bumper hit Cuz's leg, breaking it in 3 places and leaving him with a permanent limp. A friendly little constant reminder that God don't like ugly.
posted by TrisaTx at
9:43 PM
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