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10-23-2003 - 10:48 a.m.

My Stuff, Your Stuff

Ask anyone. I am mostly a sweetheart and a generous guy. If you need it, I�ll give you the shirt off my back. The right man can even have the jeans off my ass, but that�s another topic for another day.

Like any other family, we have rules around here. My stuff is MY stuff. Yours is yours. Stay out of my room and I will stay out of yours. I don�t go into Michael�s room without an invitation and I wouldn�t consider going in there to �borrow� something if he wasn�t home. Hawk and I share a room but even he and I have our own closets and drawers�and boundaries.

However, like anyone and especially Scorpios, my generosity has its limits. If you take and/or 'borrow' my stuff without asking, I get cranky. This means YOU, Miss B!

The gurl seems to believe that we are running a commune around here and what is mine is also hers. We may be fags but we are not communist pinko fags. Respecting the rules of private property is what makes family living bearable.

She takes my car and returns it on empty. When I mention that returned cars need to have gas in the tank, she takes my credit cards then fills the tank. The list of her infractions is long and mostly petty.

For example, Tuesday night, I crawl into bed and one of my pillows is missing. My favorite pillow too; the one I got at Costco that is kinda u-shaped and supports the neck. It�s not under the bed or behind the bed. Ray doesn�t know where it is. What a mystery.

Yesterday, I have to risk it all and enter Miss B�s basement lair while she is at work to hunt down the portable phone AGAIN. As I am echolocating the phone beeps, there�s my pillow (MY PILLOW!) in the middle of the pile of dirty laundry she calls a bed. I mutter a long string of expletives and begin to look around. So that�s where �fill in the missing item of your choice� went. Dozens of missing items are recovered. And not just stuff you would expect like CDs, books and clothing, she�s got the spaghetti strainer down there.

Don�t ask.

More colorful expletives! Then I see my revenge. She�s left her stash of weed and little brass pipe on the bed. Gee whiz, right next to MY pillow. Its confiscation time and revenge is sweet.

�Did you find the phone?� Ray asks when I get back upstairs with a laundry basket full of missing stuff.

�I found all kinds of interesting things� I tell him and show him the baggie. We both giggle conspiratorially and begin planning our object lesson.

Miss Thang arrives home from the subway shop around 9:15. Marlins have the lead and I half-heartedly scold her for taking my pillow and the phone. Ray wags a finger too but we both act like we are more focused on the game than discipline.

She isn�t downstairs 3 minutes when she is back upstairs asking if we have been �snooping around in her stuff�. Who us? Well yes, as a matter of fact, we were looking for OUR phone. We have to be available to our patients. Yada, yada.

Back downstairs. The sounds of frantic searching. Back upstairs. Ray and I can hardly keep a (excuse the _expression) straight face. �Are we sure we didn�t take anything that belonged to her?�

Who us? Take something that belonged to someone else? We don�t do that in this family. I am using my best compassionate therapist voice. I am just too reasonable and patient

Miss B loses it �Damn it, JJ. I know you found it. It�s mine and I want it back!�

At this point, Hawk doubles over with laughter. �OMG! You smoked it� she deduces because she can see no other reason for the often humor impaired Hawk to be laughing. Then I start laughing too and she calls us selfish, thieving bastards.

�Want a brownie?� asks Hawk, pushing the envelope.

Then we have the little Father to Child chat that goes something like: �You want respect, Treat others with respect� But I throw in a little American diplomacy that says �You don�t want to fuck with me, little girl, because I have more resources and ways to hurt you. So stay out of my stuff, damn it!�

Did she learn anything? One hopes but don�t bet on it. She is at that age where thinking about someone else just doesn�t compute. Meanwhile, anyone want a hit?



Go Back
Previously in Justinland: Our Last Five Entries

Wagons Ho! - 4-23-2004

This Old Barn - 4-17-2004

Death and Taxes - 4-15-2004

MMQB:Leftover Peeps - 4-12-2004

The Alamo; The Movie not the Shrine - 4-10-2004


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