As most of you know, we have spent the last eight days in LA, Long Beach and San Diego for my ship’s reunion. We had a great time. I drank plenty of beer and other stuff, ate some good food, laughed more than should be aloud by law and shed a few tears at the Saturday night memorial to the lost 74. Damn, I know some great guys and gals. I wish you could meet some of ’em.
One new guy who came was a ‘Plank Owner’ (First crew to be on her when she is commissioned.) He is 88 years old and was 15 years old when he joined the Navy during WWII. He has so many war stories, but the one that impressed me is his life outside the Navy. He met his wife in a drugstore in Long Beach, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with him (Navy and all that stuff - plus she was in the 10th grade. He was just 15, remember?). He found out her name from another waitress and ask her what time she got off. She said it didn’t matter because her boyfriend was picking her up. He told her there would be two to meet her then.
They went out as much as a sailor and high school girl could until he was transferred to NY. They wrote. He got out of the Navy and went to work. When he realized it was time for her graduation, he wrote her and said he was coming to CA. She said she he would be lonesome because she was going to Wisconsin to visit family for a few months, so he quit his job and went to see her there. Then he told her he was going to CA to get a job so he could afford to marry her. She said she was already engaged. He just laughed and said he would see her when she got back. Three months later they were married. She was the only girl he ever dated or even kissed. She passed two years ago, and he is just now getting out. His niece brought him to SD.
A little old man with a cane who refuses to give up. I was so impressed with him.
Anyreunion, back to Redneck Monday. Here is your Redneck Monday for yesterday. We’ve been so busy touring and gabbing and stuff that I just didn’t have time nor WIFI last week and was just too damn tired Sunday night to put one together. Sorry!
So, here goes:
He's so deaf, he can't hear himself fart.
If frogs had wings, they wouldn't bump their asses when they land.
He's so tight that his ass squeaks when he walks.
I'd like to have two of those coats. One to shit on, and the other to cover it up with.
He'd fuck a snake if you'd hold its head.
He was like a blind dog in a meat house.
He's so thin-skinned, it's just barely enough to keep him from bleeding to death.
You’re just offering me one beer? Do those things come like dead men, one to a box?
He'd drive a wooden Indian crazy.
I'm so tickled I can't get my leg down.
She had a voice that would chip paint.
I'm not saying she's ugly, but I wouldn't fuck her with your dick.
In response to "have a good one," or "have a nice one," the answer is: "I already have a good one. I'd just like a bigger one (or a tighter one)."
He's so weak, he couldn't pull a sick whore off a douche pot.
Her cooking is so bad, I'd rather had a cold scab sandwich and a glass of snot.
My allergies are so bad, my nose is running faster than I can eat it.
Don't let your bulldog mouth overload your hummingbird ass.
If that was my kid, I'd kill him and tell God he died.
She claims she's middle-aged, but she's been around since Jesus was a baby.
We go back a long way. I've known him since dirt was new.
It's raining cats and dogs. I should know. I just stepped in a poodle.
Madder than a queer with tonsillitis on Valentine's Day.
I know you can’t help bein ugly...but you could at least stayed home.
She's swellin' up like a big ol' dawg!
You know I wouldn't shit you. You're my favorite turd.
That coffee is too thick to drink and too thin to plow.
That makes my ass want a dip of snuff.
If Madonna was performing in my back yard, I'd draw the drapes.
He was farting like a pack mule.
Tell him I said for him to go pound salt up his ass with a wire brush.
He's as nellie as pink ink, but give him a ball of twine and a box of hairpins and he could rebuild Versailles.
He's so skinny, he's only got one stripe on his pajamas. . .