I really don't understand my idiot brother

[anarky]

The Lowes story and the Bon Jovi story are both forthcoming. It's just easier to type the shorter ones.

The Texas story and the last Snigtad's mom story, too. (I unexpectedly got to move furniture around this afternoon, so obviously had little time to devote to the Snigtad's mom story. I've forgotten some details, though, or it's not as long as I thought it would be.)

BTW, my bro has gone through long stages where all he says is "up your butt and around the corner."

[anarky]

So, talking to mabs earlier, I realized I need to tell the Arkansas Saga (including his adventures fighting alligators during Katrina).

Here's the Bon Jovi concert story.

So, several times, he's promised these phantom Bon Jovi tickets that never materialized. (I'm not sure where he got it into his head that I'm a huge fan. They're cool, but they're his fave, not mine.) In the past, though, we'd lived in the same place. Two Christmases ago, he was five hours away.

So, Christmas before last, big surprise, we're promised Bon Jovi tickets again. This time he says he has them in hand already. And a date and place: the MGM Grand, in March. And he's going, too.

We drive up to Vegas in January to tell my parents we're having a baby. Mrs Anarky goes shopping with my mom, my dad's at work, and Jim Bob supposedly has to pick up the tickets. So I go with him.

First, we go to the MGM Grand. We go to the lobby. He tells me I don't have to go in with him. I say it's no biggie, and go anyway. He goes up to the ticket counter, telling me this time to wait. So I do.

He takes less than ten seconds at the counter. He mumbles something I can't hear, and the girl looks at him and says, "We've been sold out of those for months!"

He comes back, acting pissed. He says these incompetent morons lost his ticket! He'll have to go to another casino to pick them up, for some odd reason. Only problem is, the other casino is closed on Saturdays! (Keep in mind that, even though he probably didn't know I heard the cashier's reaction, he was up there less than ten seconds.)

I keep trying to make sure these tickets exist. A five-hour drive with a pregnant wife for a nonexistent concert is not a good idea. After we get home (as I don't get a chance to speak with him alone in Vegas), I call my dad. I tell him I don't care if they're aren't tickets, but that he's lied about this before, and I want to make sure.

My dad assures me there will be tickets. No matter what.

Next thing I know, he really does have tickets, but only two, and they're for the nosebleeds (despite his earlier claims that they were good seats). I think, based on his attitude, he paid $100+ each from a scalper.

I think my dad put the fear of God into him.

[jjreason]

Wow. Now this may sound a little disconcerting, and I'm not sure if it fits or not... but here goes.

When I was in high-school, one of my lesser-buddies had an older brother. The guy was fucked - but fucking hilarious at the same time. You'd be in the mall, and he'd come up to you acting like a retard - and not laughing. Like bang-on, full blown retard impression complete with cerebral palsy-style walking. It was an impression that could have won a fucking oscar - and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Weird dude.

Long story short, he wound up committing suicide - he'd had major mental problems, depression, etc - but hadn't had it diagnosed for a long time because he was always laughing. I guess it was shortly after he saw the shrink for the first time that he did himself in.

Again, sorry - but it just kind of rang a bell, what with the continued odd behavior and whatnot.

[Rollo Tomassi]

It's kind of sad it happened after he went to get help. Like he was in denial for decades, but when he finally went and talked to someone and that person stripped away every defense he had built up over the years, and he realized who and what he was and it overwhelmed him. Sad. Really sad.

[anarky]

That sucks, but here's an in-law bitch to change the mood.

My mom-in-law is visiting. Mrs A and I had to go out earlier. Her mom always redecorates. This time, she hung a clock we didn't want hung (crookedly and off-center, and above the computer, which already has a fucking clock!) and hung this stupid motion-activated dog head in the baby's room. (She's the only person above the age of five who's entertained by any stupid thing that makes a lot of noise. Seriously, she has a sound-activated singing Christmas tree and will literally clap her hands for hours to keep it singing.)

Fuck. Two holes in the goddamned walls. If I say anything to her, my wife thinks I'm being out of line. If I say anything to my wife, she just blows it off. But, godfuckit, it's MY walls. Go fuck up your own house, you crazy bint.

[Antropov]

I've yet to read page 2 (I can't type fast enough right now so I can do so) but the clown and the long middle toe has me absolutely crying with laughter. Holy God, 'Nark. You NEED to find that drawing post haste.

EDIT: I updated my current avatar/sig at the other site. That shit's just too good.

[anarky]

The Lowes Story

Mabs and KH have already enjoyed this story. Here it is for the rest of you.

I'm going to start calling my brother Dean for simplicity's sake. Why? 'Cause we used to piss him off by calling him Jimmy Dean. But that way I'm not using his real name (though I'm sure you can all figure it out from what I just told you).

Dean is the sort of guy to change jobs. A lot. He's worked many times at various Lowes and Home Depot stores. He always claims to be a department or store manager. Everyone knows it's bullshit. Any store that can stay in business for more than a year isn't giving this guy any authoritah.

In fact, at one store where he was working, I went in looking for some hardware of some sort. He saw me and (I guess not realizing I'd seen him, and oblivious to my calling his name) actually ran away and hid. He was about 21-2 at this point.

Anywho... so he's living with my parents in the same town as Mrs A and I. He's working in Oceanside, down toward San Diego, about two hours away, at a Lowes store. We figure it's probably because they were the only one that hadn't fired him before. He claims to be the store manager this time, not just a department manager. It's a brand new store. I drove by it a few times within a year of his working there. Very affluent area. A grocery store, McDonalds, Chilis (or something like it), and gas station in the same parking lot. On a really busy road. Other businesses in the general area.

He, apparently, took for granted that no one in San Bernardino county had ever been to San Diego.

So, one day, we go over to Mom & Dad's for supper. Dean is sitting on the couch, with a black eye. He relates the story.

He had closed down the store at 9 PM, and, per standard Lowe's operating procedure, locked in the night crew. (Keep in mind this is his story, not mine, and I won't point out all the bazillion inconsistencies and problems from this point on, 'kay?) They cannot get out, or even see out, of the building until the store is reopened the next morning. Dean has a bag with the deposit. Again, per Lowe's standard procedure, he is driving to the bank alone to make the night deposit. He says he gets out of the store around 9:30. Everyone else is gone. He tells us that the Lowe's is totally isolated, in a really, really bad neighborhood (which, I guess, means that he has never noticed the other businesses, and they're all deserted, despite being the types of business that should still be open). There are no lights.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a small car speeds up, and three huge black guys jump out. One has a chain. One has a baseball bat. They jump him. He gets slammed across the chest with the bat. (I should mention at this point that, in reality, he had massive heart and chest surgery in his early teens, and was told that he would never be able to withstand a direct blow of any force to the chest.) He's fighting back. He punches one and breaks his nose. The third one, who was never described as having carried a weapon, pulls his keys and wallet out of his pocket, and rips his pants off (in that order). This makes him drop the bag. The guys grab it, hop into the car, and drive off, never to be seen again. Luckily, they didn't take his keys, especially (given his description of events) since his car was the only one in the lot. (I guess the night crew all walked to work.)

He can't call the cops. He apparently forgets at this point in the story that he has a cell phone and that he'd said that his keys weren't stolen. Therefore, he supposedly can't get back into the Lowe's. He beats on the door, and one of the night crew opens the door. He goes in and calls the cops, then the district manager.

The cops show up a few minutes later. He tells them briefly what happened, without giving any details. Then the district manager shows up. The cops tell Dean that, since the district manager is there, he can go home. Never mind that he's been injured (even if only slightly) and is the only witness. The district manager tells him to go home and get some sleep, as he'll have to come in early the next morning.

And why does he have to come in early? Apparently, he has to personally call everyone who wrote a check and tell them to stop payment, and to come in and write a new check to Lowes. I'm not sure how they even had a record to get the phone numbers from if the checks were stolen.

Shortly after arriving, the cops contact him to tell him that this is part of a national crime spree, where the same three big black guys have been taking advantage of Lowe's strict "only one person goes to the bank" policy and robbing managers in isolated parking lots.

Also, during the day, a customer comes in. He gives Dean his ID and a couple of credit cards. He says they were in the dumpster out back. (I should mention here that, as with most big-box stores built in SoCal in the past 10-20 years, there would be absolutely no reason for anyone to drive behind the store while leaving, as they're often constructed in such a way that one would have to turn around and go back to get out of the parking lot.)

About a week later, the cops call again. Someone found his wallet and the rest of his cards (minus one) in a gutter on the other side of San Diego. All his cash was gone, as was his Chevron charge card. (He says that this fits with past robberies, as all that's been stolen was cash and gas station cards. Not sure why they dumped the contents out in two separate locations.)

About a month later, the card is used in northern California. In an area, BTW, that Dean has visited several times. And on a weekend where he's not home and where my parents have no idea where he is.

Several months after this, I ask whatever became of the case. He says Lowes and the police have dropped it, and that he was told he wouldn't need to be called as a witness even if they do reopen it.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention (not really; I figured it'd be more dramatic here): the day he was supposedly robbed, he'd taken $300 out of his bank account to pay rent to my parents. Meaning he was, conveniently, broke and couldn't pay his rent. (They, as always, let it slide.)

The other thing I forgot to mention: one of my best friends, whom I've known for over fifteen years, well, his dad really is something of a higher-up in Lowe's management. Needless to say, I called him up. Sorta as I'd figured, the night crews are never locked in, they have Brincks or another service pick up the deposit in most cases, it's mandatory that at least two people in separate cars go to the bank on rare occasions when a drop-off is needed (and going alone is grounds for dismissal, no questions asked), and, of course, there's absolutely no crime spree of big black guys robbing Lowe's managers.

Mrs A and I figure that he went to a country-western bar he was fond of at the time, made a pass at some girl, got his ass kicked (probably by the girl rather than by a jealous boyfriend), and decided the black eye was a convenient excuse to not pay rent.

[Ro11o Tomassi]

Why are you so sure he's lying? Everything sounds plausible to me.

Also, you can't tell me you never drew an extended big toe on a clown to make a profane cartoon. I wish I had a dollar for every time I've done that. I'd have... carry the one... divide by zero... cosine of the hypoteneuse... one billion gazillion trillion killion dollars and twelve cents!

[anarky]

I was hoping that maybe a copy of the kids' menu was online (unaltered, of course), but can't find it. I'll continue hunting, though I'm not sure what the chances are it's still around.

In the meantime...

My bro's always lived with my parents or drained off of them, until recently (since meeting his wife). Even when he got engaged to his ex-fiance and moved to another town 30 miles away, my parents paid his rent. They denied it, but they did it.

Anyhow, about two years ago, he suddenly decides he's moving to Arkansas. Totally out of the blue. And he's moving less than a week after deciding this.

A friend (the same girl he's known forever who supposedly bought the cruise tickets mentioned earlier, BTW) has gotten married, and is moving to be closer to her husband's family. Oh, and she's seven months pregnant. Dean is going to be their roommate, and they're going to split rent three ways.

I go to help him move the stuff onto the truck. The girl's husband is about as dumb as "Dean," though more a braggart than a liar. He's the kind of guy who takes all the heavy stuff himself, telling you that he doesn't want you to hurt yourself. (Meanwhile, you kick back and think, "Fine, dumbass, you do the lifting if that's what it takes to prove to yourself you're a man.")

He tells me they expect to be in Arkansas within a day. I mention I've driven cross-country a few times, and it's at least a two day drive. Apparently, this is indicative of my not being a real man. He once, so he claims, drove all the way across Iraq in two days, driving 48 hours straight. Riiiiiiiiiight.

So they leave. Dean says he's got this great job cleaning cars. See, when a company buys a used car, they have to hire these very highly paid specialists to clean the cars up for resale, since there are so few people who can do this. He's given a company car and paid $85,000 to drive within a three state radius and clean up cars.

A few weeks after he gets there, it's shown this isn't true (though he will subsequently forget). One Saturday, I get a call. I'm busy, and don't recognize the area code. So I let my voicemail get it. The message is, "[Anarky], as soon as you get this, call me back!" Thinking something's wrong, I call back. He answers the phone as "Bob's Exxon." I ask him what's wrong. He's doing a crossword puzzle and wanted me to tell him if a certain word is indeed a word. "Can't you get in trouble for making long distance calls from work?"

This is shortly before Katrina hits the Gulf. He calls my parents the day or so before to tell them they've been ordered to stay out of Louisiana and Mississippi until the storm's over.

However, he calls me a day after. He tells me he's been sent in to clean cars that were damaged in New Orleans. He seems oblivious to the fact that even rescue personnel can't get in yet, and tells me I'm wrong when I inform him of this.

A week later, he calls to tell me his adventure. While cleaning cars in New Orleans (:roll:), he opens a car trunk and out jumps (!!!) an alligator. Some of the guys have to wrestle it down and call the cops. (I guess they were taking a break from rescuing people and trying to maintain order.)

My parents, meanwhile, have decided they're moving to Vegas, since he's not a drain on them anymore. A few weeks after Katrina, they move. While they're on the road, they get a call from Dean. He's coming back! He'll meet them at the train station in Vegas the next morning and move in with them there!

He left all his stuff in Arkansas, and claims that his roommates wanted him to pay 75% of the rent, and he decided that wasn't fair. Never mind that, as much as he was supposedly making, and the cost of living in Little Rock, it would've been much better to keep the job and find a new place.

We suspect someone in California got pissed at him and threatened to beat him up.