It may surprise you to know that I have a brother. For brevity’s sake, we’ll call him Uncle Aunt Becky, but I’ll warn you that it’s not REALLY his name because he’s older than me, and how could my parents POSSIBLY have known they would have named their infinitely superior younger child Rebecca?

I am so superior, in fact, that my father recently informed me that when they saw my face, they knew they could do no better, so my mother was immediately neutered in the hospital after my birth. This was all delivered with a completely straight face, the sort that my father always uses when he delivers his jokes, which is precisely the same way I tell my horrible jokes, so it’s safe to say that these things DO run in families.

My mother claims that when SHE saw me that she said, “Well, that’s a face only a mother will love.”

My family is very, very nice.

Anyway, my brother, Uncle Aunt Becky, he’s pretty much my opposite, and not only in that he’s male and I’m female because as far as I’m concerned, he’s a Ken Doll down there. BLECH.

See, he’s a beautiful writer and photographer, who actually got a degree in that stuff, and I pollute the Internet by saying things like, “meat curtains.” He’s a yuppie and my personal fashion sense is *sniff, sniff* Yup, clean enough for government work. I’m a science-type and he gets pasty when I say things like “NEEDLES!”

Mostly, our differences lie in that he’s kind of a gym rat who likes nothing more than sticking his muscled arms in my face and directing me to certain areas of his house. I like working out, Pranksters, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t have hours of the day to devote specifically to the deltoid muscle. I’m lucky if I can manage a workout at all, let alone an entire day devoted to my lower legs.

Uncle Aunt Becky’s new thing is triathlons.

The gear for them seems to hold particular interest for Uncle Aunt Becky, which is a topic Your Aunt Becky finds as interesting as toast. Apparently it is quite a topic for people who DO these things, but for those who don’t, it’s about as interesting as listening to me discuss the merits of the Twitter client for iPhone versus Tweetdeck (doooooowwwn with Tweetdeck!).

Beige paint, Pranksters.

So this weekend, Uncle Aunt Becky was supposed to do an Iron Man Triathlon that he’d been preparing for for as long as I can remember (which is approximately 6 seconds). I got a call from my father on Friday informing me that my brother was NOT going to be competing in the Triathlon as he’d broken his toe walking into some lockers at work.

You may assume that someone so closely related to me would be clumsy as I am (who the fuck breaks her toe making a sandwich?), but you’d be wrong. Uncle Aunt Becky got all of the graceful genes in the family where I inherited all of the clumsy, hair-brained, “it just seemed like a good idea!” ones.

In short, Uncle Aunt Becky is LOADS smarter and more graceful than his sister.

Like, if The Daver were to get a phone call that went like this:

“Um, so Dave, I’m at the hospital because I broke my foot chasing after a lemonade truck. See, I REALLY wanted some lemonade and the truck didn’t stop…well, okay, I don’t REALLY know if it was a lemonade truck because I’m not sure if there are such things as lemonade trucks, but it was yellow and it made me THINK of lemonade and then I got thirsty and decided to run after it and then when I got close it’s bumper fell off onto my foot. And now my foot is broken and the truck was ACTUALLY a DHL or DSL or whatever truck. So anyway, I need some lemonade. Can you pick some up on the way to the hospital please?”

He would just say,

AGAIN, Becky?”

But my brother, that’s completely a different story.

So upon hearing this, both The Daver and I stared at each other, jaws flappity-flapping in the breeze for a solid two minutes before we wondered aloud what the fuck had REALLY happened.

He never did tell us, but I have a feeling the story involves aliens or zombies or zombie aliens.

It’s really the only thing that makes any sense.


Incongruently, the story of the birthday blowjob is up at Toy With Me. It’s a great one.



81 thoughts on “Iron Man

  1. Only you can make me laugh that hard this early in the morning. I wonder if anyone will every know the true story of Uncle Aunt Becky’s broken toe?

  2. A broken toe can happen all sorts of ways.

    Dropping a large black rubber vagina on it.
    While eating an apple.
    Removing your shoes at a drunken gay disco beach party, then finding your big toe stuck. Someplace dark…

    Happened to my husband. Won’t tell you which one though.

  3. I can go to the hospital with 8 broken bones and my brain hanging out because I dropped a spoon.. My sister ” the unpeachy1″ get’s a hang nail and the entire family stops everything to gather up there in the waiting room with flowers, books and food for her family… I feel you on this.. and due to my recent zombie spider bite on my face ( which I survived and did not go to the hospital) I am in your camp that it was probably a zombie that broke your brothers toe. Why is the news not reporting this stuff?

  4. He can’t do iron man because of a broken TOE?

    Now, I love and adore you Uncle Aunt Becky but you need to man the fuck up! Either that or steal some drugs from your sister. Or both. Whatever. Don’t be a quitter, Uncle Aunt Becky!

  5. I totally want to compete in an Iron Man. Wait — no. I mean I want to BE Iron Man. They’re not the same, right? Can I wear the red and yellow metal suit without being in the race?

  6. Wonder what the other guys in the competition would think if they heard his reason for backing out?!

    Tell him to “Suck it up muffin!” Then grab a needle, freeze the toe and tell him to get on his bike! Perhaps slip in a little truth serum while you’re at it. I want the dirt of what really happened.

  7. Poor Uncle Aunt Becky. Were he my brother, I think I would have a hard time not laughing at him about his injury, but then, I have no brother, and that’s just how I imagine my relationship with one would be.

    1. I was more baffled than anything else. I would have laughed had he told me to my face, but I sat around for like 3 hours after I got the call from my dad going, “REALLY? REALLY?!? No. That CAN’T BE. Not HIM!” I’m more concerned than anything else.

  8. I have been known to try to walk through sliding glass doors that are closed (which is why I stopped cleaning them ). I also come across black and blue marks and I can’t remember how I got them. That’s probably because my mind is preoccupied with important stuff like when is the new season of Dexter starting.

      1. “bruises from giving head” I like that one. I’ll have to try that one on hubs. He’ll think he’s getting more than he has been… or he’ll quit asking about the mystery bruises I seem to get from fluffy marshmallows and rainbows after I mention putting him “in the home” for his senility.
        Bwahahaha…thanks Aunt Becky!

  9. I’m really mean because I laughed and laughed at this story ~ I find it amusing when one of the Perfect Ones finally has something in their life not go as planned.

    I also find it hilariously ironic that a broken TOE is keeping a guy out of an IRON MAN competition.

  10. ” broken his toe walking into some lockers at work.”

    That is such a cover story excuse. SOMETHING else happened, probably something embarrassing or illegal or both. Like he got drunk at a strip bar and joined a dancer up on stage and was whirling around her pole when the bouncers grabbed him and he kicked out and caught his foot in the railing and the EMTs had to come & free his foot so the cops could haul him off to jail & the only way they could do it way by breaking his toe.

    Probably that is what really happened, or something very similar. I’d demand the truth if I were you. Lies have no place between family members

  11. Sorry to hear about Uncle Aunt Becky’s toe. I am so clumsy I broke my husband’s toe while we were laying in bed. It wasn’t even one of those awesomely horrifying sex injuries. Just a douchey freak accident.

  12. Sorry to hear about Uncle Aunt Becky’s toe. I am so awesome that I broke my husband’s toe while we were laying in bed. It wasn’t even one of those delightfully horrifying sex injuries. It was just a douchey freak accident. Score for me giving him is first broken bone!

  13. If I didn’t happen to be *relatively* sure I didn’t see you at my wedding, I might assume that your brother is really my husband. Mainly because of all the work-out/triathlon type stuff you mentioned. And the random injury. Seriously. He’s been walking around for MONTHS talking about how he wants a new bicycle to train for such a thing, and his minimum time for a mile, blahblahblah…and then I blink and ask where he put the PIE I just bought. Because while I *do* work out, I do NOT get excited at the idea of that much running/swimming/riding. Again. I am suspicious that we might be related and just not know it yet. See you at Thanksgiving, if I find the pie.

  14. Iron man competitions are a BIG deal!!! I know this because my husband does mini triathlons. As in a mile swim, 15 mile bike, and 3 mile run. the iron mans end with a marathon. CRAZY.

    Whatever happened to that toe, your brother must be sick about missing that iron man!

    1. Yeah, he was WAY upset. I felt terrible for him, actually. Which, he’s my brother and we didn’t get along until recently, so me, who doesn’t have a heart, feeling sad for my brother, WOW.

  15. As someone who has done an Ironman triathlon and who loves Ironman triathlons and someone who likes to blog about Ironman triathlons and who likes to read your blog, my heart goes out to your brother. I can only imagine the feelings he is going through right now – he has worked so hard only to be sidelined at the last minute. So, much love to him and let him know that the journey is the best part, the race is just a medal (easier said than done, this I know), but if he has done the training, he IS an Ironman.

    1. He’s doing the half-triathlon in a couple months. I feel really sorry for him, actually, which isn’t an emotion I normally feel for my big brother. I’ll pass this along to him.

      1. Which half is he doing? I am doing the Redman half in September. I’m gonna start stalking your brother. Muuuhahaha.

        I feel for him and hope his toe heals quickly! If he is anything like me (and most triathletes are), I’m sure he is a joy to be around right now. 🙂

  16. I knew this crazy girl who lied about stuff that didn’t even matter, but was totally outlandish. No one ever called her out on it, because it was so strange.

    When she came back from a trip to see her brother, she explained to us that her foot was broken (which it was) because she was in a club and some random, TALL, FAT Asian girl came up to her and started screaming something about her boyfriend and then stomped on crazy girl’s foot. Apparently, the TALL, FAT Asian chick then looked horrified, apparently because she realized she had the wrong girl, and promptly disappeared into the crowd.

    The TALL, FAT Asian girl. Disappeared into the crowd.


    That’s probably what happened to your brother.

  17. Oh my Gosh!!! I totally saw this coming!! If I go to the hospital to have a piece of glass removed from my cornea, then my sis is going to a different hospital to have her eyeball removed because they found glass surrounding her entire eye!!! What a goof!

  18. Did Uncle Aunt Becky do something to piss Mimi off, like play keep-away with the binky one too many times? You have to watch those cute ones – they’ve got minions to do their dirty work.

    “Lockers” -> “anklebiters”

    Just sayin’.

      1. She’s wily and charming, that one. I can just see her looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes and then dropping a brick on his foot. Start prepping her throne and scepter now.

  19. On any given day in our house if you hear a loud crash it will be followed by me yelling out to ANYONE WHO GIVES A FUCK,
    “I’m okay, I’m okay in case you were worried” to which I hear crickets in response.
    Everyone is so over my clumsiness.

    I think I actually bounced off the floor on Saturday, it went by so fast.

    1. Oh yeah, NO ONE LISTENS to me when I hurt myself. EVER. They’re waaay over me. How’s this: you call me when you hurt yourself and I’ll call you when I do, and we can be sympathetic.

      1. The next time I cut myself (accidentally of course) I will call you in hopes that you have cut yourself (accidentally of course)and we can become klutzy blood brothers.

        This is going to be so much fun.

        1. Don’t forget me! I can sever an artery with a filet knife slicing tomatoes! 3 hours in the ER and they used a battlefied dressing on it. Hurt like a mo-fo BTW!

  20. All I can say is “thank god” that were born to balance out the obvious “goody-two-shoes” in the family…geez…can you imagine a holiday get-together with only Uncle Aunt Becky around? I’m sure that your family would rather have their tonsils removed through their belly button rather than suffer with that…

  21. ahhhh…too sad for perfect Uncle Aunt Becky….but too fuckin funny! Didn’t you have a pix of him and you wearing leather jackets? You’re WAY prettier girl, just a simple observation.

  22. I just love the way you tell a story. And the thought of a muscle-bound man named Uncle Aunt Becky walking into a locker…that’s gonna keep me smiling for a long time.

  23. laughing so hard I am crying AND peeing myself. He might be more educated, but I’m a thinkin’ yer way more funny. Gasp.

    1. and sorry to him that he missed his race. of course. that sucks. shoulda read all the comments first, but … well … my eyes were blurry. condolences. congrats on having new feelings about him, too. Siblings are great, once they get somewhat over themselves. I mean ourselves. I mean … oh, never mind.

  24. That is totally suspicious. My husband broke his knee “thai kick boxing” which I knew was code for “ice skating.” Clearly something is up with Uncle Aunt Becky!

  25. Ah, yes, the leave-big-important-parts-of-the-story phenmenon. I am familar with that. Lots of stories involving my brother never quite add up, and so I am forced to put the pieces together. And it’s all humpty-dumpty, but because we aren’t allowed to question, and I can never figure it out. But blaming it on the zombies is a good way to go. Think I’ll do that next time.

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