I called my sister the other day.
“Hello?” Joy answered.
“Hey, where’s Cody?” (for those of you just joining, Cody’s my nephew.)
“At his friend’s, why?”
“I wanted to see if he wanted to come up next weekend.”
“Come up where?” Joy asked. “Your house?”
“Who is this?” Joy asked. She didn’t believe it.
For those who don’t know me, I hate people coming over to my house. Especially kids. Even relatives. I have a lot of what some people would call “crap” in my house. I call them collectibles. And I don’t want anyone muckity mucking up my shit. My niece and nephew have never spent the night at my house. Ever.
And, the funny thing is, they even joke about it. Once my niece told my sister that she didn’t like coming to my house because I made her eat and drink in the kitchen. Hey, no one is going to spill shit on my couch.
But Cody is 13, now. So I figured I’d let him come up and hang out and watch some movies.
Continuing with the conversation…
“Shutup, ass. Do you think he’d want to?”
“Probably. Call back later.”
Cody did, indeed, want to. And yesterday I picked him up, went and got chips and shit and watched movies (and he showed me how good he was on Guitar Hero). The Guitar Hero part was pretty damn cool because I made him play some cool songs. He refused to play Heart, though. I guess Heart is no Eminem.
We ended up watching Teminator, Clerks 2 and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. I have to admit, I’m a little proud the boy liked the Kevin Smith movies. Although there were things I had to explain what some things meant, and never to say them. (At least not until he’s 18, anyway).
One great scene in J&SBSB involved Jay being told that women didn’t like being called bitches. So, the way I look at it, it was an educational experience.
(Although I did tell him not to go to school and take back “porch monkey”. That wouldn’t be cool at all. He agreed.)