Functionally ReTodded

Last week I was running low on ideas for posts, so I solicited you, my readers (and the members of Facebook) for some ideas.

I received many.  However hardly any were usable.  (Just so you know, I’m not sure anyone wants to hear about how gay I am Superios.  So let’s move away from your fixation on that subject).

One of the responses came from my nephew Parnell.  By the way, that’s not his real name.  It’s what his dad wanted to name him and what we’ve called him for years and now he is called that by many, which I love.

A little background first.  Parnell is the eldest child of the BIL (brother in law) and SIL that live across the street from us.  We moved in when he was thirteen and now, at eighteen, we’ve seen and heard all kinds of things that uncles and aunts aren’t normally privy to.

Parnell’s a good kid.  I know he’s an adult and all that, but he’s a kid to me.  He’s wonderful with my children and more helpful than almost any kid his age.  Heck, he even agreed to drive 30 miles each way to pick my drunk ass up from an all day horseshoe tournament.  On a Saturday night.

Anywho, among the many traits he shares with his peer group of eighteen year old college freshman that played high school football is that he eats.  A LOT.  Frankly, he’s a bottomless god damned pit.  He’ll eat anything and he’ll eat a lot of it. Why just last night I watched him eat half a box of that pre-cooked refrigerated bacon.  Right out of the fridge.  Really.

When asked about it he said "Well, it says it’s fully cooked, but it isn’t that great."

When we get bagels on the weekends, we get an extra quart of cream cheese because he literally piles said cream cheese over an inch thick on half of a bagel.  It reminds me of watching a lion eat a gazelle carcass.  It’s pretty creepy but I can’t turn my head away.

Anywho, yesterday young Parnell came home and, as usual, was hungry.  On the counter right as you walk in the kitchen, he found this:

I can actually hear his brain in Homer Simpson’s voice saying "Mmmmm…Raspberry Buttercream frosting."

So Parnell did what any hungry 18 year old male would do.  He squished a bunch on to his hand and licked it.

About that time his brain told him "Hey Parnell.  Are you sure you read the entire label?  This tastes pretty crappy for Raspberry Buttercream Frosting.  This shit should RULE!"

And then he read the entire label:

Raspberry

Buttercream

Frosting

HAND CREAM

That’s right.  The cold "fully cooked" bacon was actually an improvement over his prior snack, which was just some fancy Jergens.

Don’t change, Parnell.  Please don’t ever change.

Your loving uncle,

FRT