Passing gas is no longer the epitome of humor

I feared for my life Saturday night in a small room at the Stake Center next to the primary. For the first time since old man Agassi threatened to end my earthly sojourn, I could slowly feel life seeping and pleading to leave my now svelte 221 pound frame. During rehearsal for "The Geezers" meet the Palmyra Ward Hoedown Extravaganza, Jerry, lap-band surgery man, Austin laid a cookie for us. Half in jest, half out of necessity, who will ever know. Only the Lap-Band Man knows, and he is not talking.

Maybe Jerry's cookie drop was in line with the surgery repercussions, but now, I can honestly say that the action verb that rhymes with "parting" is no longer my main source of entertainment. Even if it is an innocent "toot" by my precious grandchildren, I will, as partriarch of this family, not stand for any more aggrandizing of this most disgusting, althought in the past extremely pleasurable, form of abuse of others. Can you imagine how embarrassed Jerry Austin must have been when he heard that all meetings at the Stake Center were cancelled for Sunday. I still do not know how we managed entertain after such trauma to our systems.

Incidentally, without their lead singer, "The Geezers" would be an nonentity. The performance went way too late for the Review Journal deadlines, but I just know the reviews were off the charts for a ward function.

We don't post pictures here at 4743 Siegfried Street, but I am going to have Jek-ka-ka post our first album cover for "The Geezers". Yes, you heard correctly...vinyl is coming back, and we are jumping on.

For the first time today, I read the comments you have made on my numerous past blog posts. You are, indeed, as Rebecca stated, a clever bunch. My next goal is to overcome my selfishness and comment on your blogs when you get them up and runnning.

Also, Jennifro, I won't pull any punches about how disappointed I was in your athletic prowess as a youth; but, you might be happy to know that at this juncture, you are currently at the #1 slot in overall family performance. Jill is a not too distant 2nd, and four couples are currently tied for 3rd. James Mitchell is dead last. Marriage would boost him into 3rd. Karen and John Joe (AMSOF) are going to make an effort to push Jill for the #2 spot and maybe even take a hard look at the "Fro" at the top of the heap.

Before I forget regarding one of your comments, Grandma May called me every clean name you can imagine in my youth, so, her being called a horse would tickle her right off her Celestial cloud. And yes, Jill, I remember the swimming, but I think you were medicated.

Family performance is based on the following:

Fidelity to spouse
Temple Attendance
Callings
Church Attendance
Payment of Tithes and Offerings
Children potty trained
Music Lessons (grandparents will help when they can and if needed)
Food Storage (a must)
Language (crudeness)
Deportment (controlled outbursts)
Some sports when of age (not all sports)
Saving for retirement
Missionary minded
Inner pulchritude
Always willing to bring sandwiches and chips
Gossip free
Encourage good clean humor (Jill is coming on strong in this department)

More on Family performance and why I am a happy man later.

Love,

VV, AMSOF, and for now LSOTG

Passing gas is no longer the highlight of humor

Okay...Vegas, lard boy, Vic is checking back in. I'm still not sure about AMSOF or the Vegas Vick handles, but lead singer of the "Geezers" might be my new title after tonight. More on that later. There is one stipulation to my blogging. (I really do not like the word) That stipulation being that there will be no more pictures of me with a fake pink flower in my Fro, and never any more shots of big tuna on trampoline watch.

I came back from Maryland a whopping three hundred and eleven pounds, and the only thing I remember eating out is Mexican once, Five Guys once, a late night Big Mac, fries, and a sundae with Johnny and the girls, and sneaking pinenuts from Jennifro's freezer. Oh, and the about five pounds of Southwest nuts and crackers, and Kellsburg's cookies, and Jill's mills, and a McDonald's sundae spree with Mitchell, and Forrest Teeter's disgusting salad bar, and cleaning up everyone's plates at Richie Cunningham's rice bowl expo. I am a pig. But, I am a happy pig!!! More on that later.

I just got off from the phone with #one son, and he was exuding about his # one son's prowess in T-ball. It brought back so many great memories of years past and how much fun we had watching everyone except Jennifer and Jill excell athletically. You girls will just have to keep playing the piano and being beautiful and let Jek, the bullet-armed second baseman and perennial winner of the snake-dash, and Jayne, the bloodthirsty point guard, be the sports heroes. They are, however, going to try to catch you both in the music department, and they are both every bit as beautiful. Jennifer and Jill maybe you two could do bodybuilding or cross-country skiing or rowing or backbacking. Just do something athletically to make us proud.

Jennifer, Mitchell should be in T-ball immediately if he is not already!!!!! He will be behind, and from what I saw when we played at your house, the boy has game. It is just one more thing, but he will love it, and it is a blast to go watch. I will wait for your report. After seeing the progress of my talented, oldest grandson, Nicholas John, on the quitar after such a short time; I feel an obligation to share the remaining talents still cursing through my veins with those who share my blood and heart. Nicholas is also a great little baseball player. I can still throw and catch, and if they didn't play old-fart softball on Sunday, I would be playing today, and probably batting 8th and limping around the outfield.

I'm out for now! More on the "Geezers" concert, and being a happy pig later.

Love you all,

VV or AMSOF or LSOTG (lead singer of the geezers)

Afro-Man, son of Flicka

Just a note to let everyone know that Vegas Vic is going down and Afro Man, son of Flicka is on the rise. It should be noted, according to ultra conservative Miss Karen, that there is a possibility that impressionable young minds could possibly be privy to my rants and pensive reflections. Please follow up with anything questionable with a lecture on vice and the repercussions of such. Until next time.

AMSoF

Afro-Man, son of Flicka

Drawing a senior citizen big-time blank

This is to let the thousands who are awaiting the commencement of Vegas Vic's blog, know that Vegas Vic is not permanent. Vegas Vic smokes, and that is one vice that I really did want when I was ten or eleven. I used to watch my dad inhale, and secretly wished I could smoke like he did...But after John Peterson and I had smoked everything we could find from toilet paper to coffee, I decided that only the real thing would really suffice. Many times I swiped one of my dad's Winston butts and tried to inhale. It hurt so bad that I decided to just play like I was smoking. One day Dad was suspicious of what I was doing, and he set a trap for me that I fell very hard for. He laid out a beautiful three inch butt that was the best I had ever seen him leave. I snatched it up, and I was in my bed behind a closed door practicing when Dad walked in and caught me red-handed. I got the never smoke lecture, and that pretty much took care of my desire to be a professional inhaler of that weed that keeps one from passing the sacrament, going on a mission, marrying in the temple, and etc. etc. Any way after Youth Conference ends, and I once again have a life I can enjoy; I will come up with a different blog logo. Until then, Vegas Vic will do.

Last week, I had a short novel in my head to write, but it has left me for now, but will return when my head clears and my thoughts are of something besides roadshows, services projects, ordering hygiene kits, helping to decide if ice cream should be enjoyed after pizza at the roadshow cast party, and on, and on, and on, and on!

Catch you all later.

VV

A foggy day in London town