GCX3

Pruneface Parkinglot Pruitt

Rev up your engines, the GCX3 model is due this October. This means my daughter is giving birth to my third grandchild this October.  I have two strapping grandsons named Brogan and Beckett (born this August), soon to be All-American linebacker duo at the University of Oklahoma (if I have a say in it).  But my daughter is having a girl, which means I have to polish the shotgun and oil the rusty shovel and get my papa language and evil eye back into practice with the old alert,

You see that girl there young man?  That’s my granddaughter.  You make her cry, I make you cry – capiche?  She wants you gone, you are gone.  See this gun and shovel?  I’m an expert with them.  I’m a grandfather!

My daughter will never admit it, but I scared every single young man who came near me.  They’d run to the door, ring the bell and then run like a banshee back to their car waiting for her to run equally like a banshee to escape.  Luckily my son-in-law is in the military, so he understands rank and respect, well, okay, rank then.

But it dawned on me.  Crap.  I’m old!  Gone are the days when girls whistled at me on the beach, nowadays when I hear whistling I suck in that gut as hard as I can, turning blue like William Wallace going into battle, with the expectation it was all about me, when in fact it was about some dog, marking his spot on my leg.

“Bad spot, bad spot..  you peed on the Uncle!”

EddieAuthorMy lawn guy tells me you know you are old when all the young girls call you “Uncle.”  That’s Hawaiian for “Old Fart.”  In English it means to surrender, capitulate, give in to the pain of a wrestling match you have no chance in hell winning.  So call me Uncle Hamish.  But… I won’t capitulate entirely, because I live in Hawaii and that makes me cool papa #1!  I will now go by the Rap stage name of 1CoolPapa.

Who’s yo daddy, who’s ya papa?
Who can take out the trash and sling the mopa?
I ain’t yo uncle and I ain’t ya momma
Cuz I be beachin, Ima 1CoolPapa.

But, I digress. (If that rendition does not cure you of Rap, nothing will.)

So now as the hot Hawaiian days pass into college football season, I can sit back and plan all the trips we need to take to visit these miracles of life, so that I can spoil the daylights out of them.  It’s wonderful being a grandparent. I cherish every stinking Karma filled moment.  So if my kids get upset with me I’ll go back into my Gangsta Rap mode.

I was yo daddy, but now Ima papa
This gives me perks and for yo momma
You can throw me out and I still be smilin
Cuz during naptime I’ll be dialin and callin

You say the kids are now stinking rotten,
well that’s Karma or have ya forgotten!
I ain’t yo uncle and I ain’t ya momma
Cuz I be beachin, Ima 1CoolPapa.

Guess who doesn’t get invited for Christmas to deliver the drum, microphone, and amplifier sets?

Absurd?  You betcha!

Disclaimer – this rap material is a work of art and 1CoolPapa will sue the #@$%## out of ya if you so much as #*$&^ try to match if with a Barry Manilow tune !
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2014 – A Review

Happy2015

 

Honestly, I don’t remember much about this past year.  It was a blur.  I think we had a polar corset, pineapple espressos, or something like that. I increased my fiber intake. My college football team (OU) initially ranked #4 and ended #400 (out of a possible 130 teams) – who knew the odds of that?!  I gained weight making the dough boy proud and very rich.  I converted from beer to wine because I was convinced the redness had health benefits, even though  my teeth are so stained, I am now confused with Nosferatu.  I wrote very little and generally was not in a laughing mood (I blame the fiber).

CalvinAndEddie

I watched “Moving to Hawaii” and tried to move to Kauai, Hawaii. This is of course if I can find a home or cardboard box that I can afford and isn’t snatched up before I can get there, or  leased by wild free roaming roosters.  If any of my loyal readers are from Hawaii, has a place to lease, and is willing to take my gas passing Golden Retriever (yes, I lay blame on the poor dog and the fiber), please respond by commenting here.

I grew older – dagnabit!  Even AARP stopped sending new member applications.  Instead, I received the OFP (Old Fart People) membership application, which was really less confusing with only three simple questions:

  1. Are you over 55?
  2. Do you require massive doses of fiber?
  3. Can you pay us $5?

It was so simple, I completed the application in 15 seconds and saved 15000% over AARP.  I have been approached to be the official OFP spokesperson.  I’m thinking it over.  I am highly qualified and they have offered me a free set of Yoga pants, because I began practicing in 2014 so I could be bend forward to cut my toe nails.

That’s it.  Exciting huh?  With this in mind, I’ve made my 2015 resolutions:

  1. Cut down on the fiber, at my wife’s pleading and my Golden’s howling.
  2. Cut down on wine and women.  Oh wait… that was a dream… never mind.
  3. Write more excellent humor like that displayed here.
  4. Perfect my sneers and do it more often, then blame it on the fiber and the Golden.
  5. Get to Kauai even if I have to dress like a wild free roaming rooster and blend in with the indigenous population.
  6. Bundle up for more polar corsets and pineapple espressos.
  7. Lose 35 pounds in 100 months or less.
  8. Fit into my Yoga pants (visualize that NOW!)
  9. Stay awake past 9:00 pm.
  10. Learn new words to include in the 4 books I WILL COMPLETE THIS YEAR!!!!
  11. Take writing anxiety drugs, supplemented by the other 30 counter effect drugs.
  12. File suit against the pharmaceutical companies for my 31 new 2015 drug addictions.
  13. Bend far enough forward to see past my belly and notice the official OFP brand logo on the Yoga pants.
  14. Stay positive – despite all the 15,000 people who will want to be president in 2016.

So you say it’s impossible to meet all these?!  Maybe so, but as the official spokesperson of OFP, I won’t remember any of it tomorrow.  That’s my excuse and I am sticking to it!  With age comes wisdom – use it or lose it.  I’ve chosen to lose it.

May you each have a happy, healthy, prosperous and fiber free 2015.

Legal Disclaimer – you may not sue me for the mental damage suffered visualizing an OFP member, or its spokesperson in Yoga pants.

For the Love of my Daughter

Fashion

My daughter believes my blog needs a little less dash of bacon and more dashes of fashion.  She gave me this photo and challenged me to write something humorous about it.  Where can I possibly start?  For once I was almost speechless, well, fingerless since this is a blog.  I think this was PhotoShopped, PhotoHijacked, or something. Well, for the love of my daughter here is my best attempt at fashion humor.

Zis is Eduardo Hancho Pancho Gerard Bove reporting live from zee Milan Fazhion unz Munzter Truckz Zhow.  Today we have zum unique fazhionz to dizplay to zee wurld – Yaz! Oh my wurdz, hold zee phonzee, here’s come zee muzt unzeexpected entry zis yur. (Okay enough of the Mexican Austrian French accent – it isn’t working for me.)

Surely Shirley the Wookie wouldn’t be caught dead on the streets of ole Gay Paris with this outfit.  I mean really, look at those knobby knees, puhleeeze!  And that terribly silly ball bag, look at the color clash with her Romanesque style sandals.  Besides, you lay down the bag and it rolls away. Designers these days!

And that dress! Gag me with a forklift, it looks like a beat down Idaho potato sack bag from Caddy Shack running away on the runway.  Even Cat’s won’t tolerate this on their catwalk.

CatWalk

Caddy Shack Cat Attack on Tacky Catwalk
of
Tacky Model Hack in Caddy Shack Idaho Potato Sack

See, I paid attention to Dr. Seuss’ therapy sessions – “I like green eggs and ham,” said Sam I am.  Yet, I digress as usual.  Dr. Seuss said I had ODD.

Finally look at the horrible necklace, she might as well use it as a noose, or binding for the hay on the farm.  Other than that, that’s my fashionista’s best review. Oh the face, the scalp and the beard – I’m so sorry. I just noticed it was aunt Mabel Sue from Arkansas.  Hi aunt Mabel Sue, hi!  Why is she running back? She didn’t even notice me, that unfriendly hussy.  Besides she has no fashion sense.

Only yours truly, Eduardo Hancho Pancho Gerard Bove has any fashion common sense.  Here’s  a taste of the fashion styles for 2013.

Eduardo Hancho Pancho

Christmas Collection

And for common sense home attire:

At Home Collection

Casual Home Collection

Finally, for the sporty types:

Sports Fashion Collection

Sports Fashion Collection

Is that funny enough my loving daughter?  What? You say you want a name change and to be put up for adoption!  But you are 25 years old my darling sweet pea.

Well that shut her up.

Anz thiz iz Eduardo Hancho Pancho Gerard Bove zaying zo long from zee Milan Fazhion unz Munzter Truckz Zhow – Yaz! Zzzzzzzzzzz

Man Club – February 2013 Edition (Super Whale Bowl)

Superwhale

Superwhale

For those of you who read my blog you will know that football is in my blood.  My father won two national championships and went undefeated in his time at The University of Oklahoma that built a 47 game win streak in the 1950’s, that still stands today.  However, I did not inherit his genetics.  As a matter of fact, I weighed only 135 pounds as a senior in high school and was a chick repellent, a human mosquito.  I was fast and could throw a ball 70 yards, but if someone hit me, I’d wind up on row 61.  I was a product of the 1970’s when body building and sculpting was bigger than today.  I went from 135 as a senior to 185 six months later and became a chick magnet, more like fly paper.  Today, I weigh 230 pounds.  How in the heck did I go from 135 to 230?

So fellow Man Club members what does this say?  We men are not as manly anymore. Where has Superman, the man of steel gone? We’ve become pudgy, much too soft in the mid-section and instead of cut muscles, we tattoo barbed wire images on our arms, with the hopes it says we are a man.  Some of us tower at 6’6″ but weigh 330 pounds.  We’ve become whales! This must end my fellow man club members.  Beside being deadly unhealthy, we are not appeasing the football gods. I stopped watching pro football over 25 years ago, because it was no longer about the purity of the game and the athlete. Now it’s about cold hard cash, commercials, half naked cheer and pom-pom leaders, brawls before, during and after the game, riots whether you lost or not, and general public chaos.  It was once about healthy and strong young men beating the snot and sweat out of each other, until one side had scored more points. Now we have hit squads and bounties right on the field. Instead of tackling a guy with our helmet to the knees, we manned up and then used our brute force to bring our opponent to the ground.  A lineman could be seen running up the field 30 yards to make a block.  Today, these lineman make it one yard and then take a big mac (Massive Artery Clotting) break, during the 100 commercials.  They aren’t blockers anymore, they are plugs, that’s right, massive human plugs with the simple purpose keeping the D-lineman from flooding in.

So today I drafted section 330, which deals with our members weight:

Section 330

“Each morning a man club member must get up at 4:00 a.m. to recondition his body.  He will commit to losing 5 pounds per day.  He will begin with stretching exercises, then go through a series of weight lifting to tone his muscles and strengthen bone, by lifting fewer pounds but with more repetitions.  He will then run three miles to get his heart rate up and burn those excess stored calories.  He will come back after three hours of exercise and eat a healthy breakfast.  He will continue with healthy eating habits the remainder of the day.  He will refocus his mind away from excessive snacking, TV watching, and video game playing, by reading his  favorite books to exercise the intellectual athlete inside.  He will complete his honey-do’s. In two months, he will be the envy of every ordinary man, and the driving lust of every average woman.” 

ALRIGHT, who is with me?  Rah, Rah! On second thought, what’s wrong with super world whale championship watching on our 60″ HDTV with surround sound, remote control for channel surfing, and bowl of butter popcorn and a few brews?  Who knows maybe we will be able to double our high school weight. Woo hoo! What a sexy accomplishment.

PS – just know this post, although laced with a little humor, addresses a serious issue.  Many of us men are definitely walking heart attacks, bone and joint replacement and diabetes candidates.  Our wife and children are following our example of idleness and packing on the pounds as well.  I say it is time, we men, look honestly in the mirror (a wide mirror) and man-up to be the leaders of our families and the stewards of our bodies. Learn to enjoy the activities of the great outdoors and actual family time. We are headed for a healthcare apocalypse. Where have the super men gone?

Joy to the World – My Grandson has Come

Papa

Loyal readers,

I will be taking a few days off to enjoy one of life’s greatest moments. The miracle of life and birth. Having a grandchild for the first time is a joyous occasion.  There is much celebrating to do.  Having your son produce a son is even more special.  It means the line of the Greenlee’s will continue, at least for one more generation.  Born on 12/12/12 he was given the name of Brogan Pierce.  I think the name is worthy of a future all-American linebacker at the University of Oklahoma.  He has the genes of his great grandfather, who was part of the 1950’s OU teams that won 47 straight.  His father and mother are both OU graduates.  His dad an accountant, his mother a dental student, both blessed with outrageous good looks.  Brogan will be a cover model and a linebacker. He will most likely dodge tackles by future amorous females.

I look forward to telling him tall tales and taking him on imaginary journeys.  At first I joked about being referred to as the “Grand Poopah”, or “His Royal Highness King Edward of Norman”, but Papa will suffice.  He will need strong men and mentors in his life who can guide him on morals, ethics, and how always to be a gentleman. I am up to the task that grand parenting holds for me.  We will laugh, we will be silly, and each moment I promise you dear Brogan will be special. So today I celebrate the joy in this world and the arrival of the next generation of family.