Tom, Dick and Harry

Do y'all remember that old expression "every Tom, Dick and Harry in town"? As in, "I'm not going to offer to take in sewing for every Tom, Dick and Harry in town...just my relations."

Just a couple of days ago, I realized that "Tom, Dick and Harry" ARE my relations.

Tom: my mom's oldest brother. His name is Thomas. I call him Uncle Tommy, his sons call him "D" (because when they were very young they couldn't say "dad" and "D" stuck) and his illegitimate grandson calls him "Big D", or at least that's what they're trying to get him to call him.

Dick: my second cousin*. His name is Richard (and currently he goes by Rich) but when he was younger, he was known by the formerly popular nickname for Richard: Dick.

Harry: my dumbass cousin. He is actually Tom's son and therefore my first cousin. I refer to him as my dumbass cousin because the kid is actually very smart but makes poor life choices. For example, his exit from the university system did not include a diploma, a gown or a GPA higher than 0.9. On a 4.0 scale. Following that adventure he moved home where he proceeded to get involved with a girl who was 3 years (or so) his junior. So when she got pregnant, she was a junior in high school...and under 18. She has since started dating someone else (with whom she exchanges text messages during our family functions, which she attends with the blessed child) as has Harry. But his last girlfriend dumped him because he tried to hire strippers while out of town for a football game.** Like I said, poor life choices.


Next time you hear the phrase "Tom, Dick and Harry" you can think of me and my family. Granted, it might be a while before you hear that phrase again, because it's not exactly new lingo, but when you do...you can think of me.

*Background on this terminology: His mother is my grandmother's sister. He is my mother's cousin and therefore my second cousin. Unlike TCM, who is my third cousin because her mother is my mother's cousin. Just wanted to point out that these people are ACTUAL kin and not just creekwater kin.

**Or something like that. I get most information on Harry from another cousin.

Douchebag of the Week

This week's honor goes to an unnamed group. I'm not withholding names to protect the innocent. These douches a) are not innocent and b) deserve to be called out. Sadly, I do not know their names.

This week's DBOTW: car thieves. Specifically, the jerkfaces who stole my car.

Anybody who will take my 1990s Honda from my parking lot late on a Friday night and abandon it 1.5 blocks away is a douchebag. They ripped out the ignition box to start it (and drive it 1.5 blocks) and then just left it in the parking lot of Pie and Fritha's former apartment building. They didn't even take the Bacon Salt that was in the car.

They didn't take the clothes, the football or the beer (I have a couple of cans of Natty Light in the trunk, leftover from "Poor Life Choices" theme night at mini-golf. I had forgotten they were there until the thieves' rummaging uncovered them.)

They didn't even go joy riding in the car. I happened to remember the mileage on my trip odomoter when I left a friend's house the night before it was taken (577.5). She lives 15 (or so) miles away from me, so when I found the car with an unmoved gas gauge needle and a trip odometer of 592.3, I knew they SERIOUSLY drove it a block and a half.

The snotrags' little 1.5 block jaunt cost me $500 for a new ignition...box...thing. And now I have to use 2 different keys on my car: one to open the door, one to drive. It's annoying. And not fair.

Now if this were the first time my car had been stolen, I might just be grateful to get it back.

But no.

The first time, the jerks who stole it abandoned it in Kent (a hole of a town 30 minutes away) with the windows down (in Seattle, in the winter) and stole some clothes I had in the car. Some nice clothes that I needed to drop off to be dry-cleaned.

The second time, the d-nozzles drove it a few miles away, left the lights on, which drained the battery, and the door open. They left the computer in the trunk and left the clothes I needed to drop at Goodwill in the back seat. But the box of hand-me-down dishes I inherited from Rosie...they took.

So this time, when my car was stolen, I was kinda hoping it wouldn't come back. It's my first theft since moving to the LQA and I thought maybe I was free. Bah.

And that's why Car Thieves get named Douchebag of the Week. And why my car's nickname is "Boomer" - as in "Ang" not "Esiason".