Until his sides ache
New weekly goal for Family Dinner night; tell family stories until Roommate is laughing so hysterically that he's on the verge of needing medical intervention. Since it was so fun tonight, we should do it every week. Although it's really, really hard to top the Ballad of Uncle Joe's Underwear.
@nixedsims You're right, I should expand on that.
When I was a kid there was a neighbor my brother and I were so close to (and he was at our house so much) that we called him our Other Brother. Due to the pleasantness and multigenerational nature of our neighborhood . . we're both still here. In our late 30s we decided to have a milk cow project; he'd buy a cow and handle the veterinary work, I'd keep her in my field and handle the daily milking. It went really well, and we were both happy with the deal.
He also kept some cows with his Uncle Joe, who lived across the river in West Virginia. One week he told me he wanted to pick up a few young heifers from UJ's and bring them back here. I'm familiar enough with UJ to realize that him 'helping' Other Brother load the heifers on the trailer would probably consist of leaning on the outside of the fence and criticizing. {eye-roll - we all know That Guy}
"I'll go with you and help you get them loaded," I promised OB, and explained my reasoning. He agreed that UJ was unlikely to help much. His next day off, over the river and to Uncle Joe's house we went. He neatly parked the truck and livestock trailer when we got there, and we went to the porch to let UJ know we were there. He yanked open the door. Crucially, no one had told him I'd be along on this trip. His state of semi-dress was a bit of a shock. The three of us spent a frozen moment staring at each other, then he slammed the door and went to put pants on. I said something intelligent and compassionate, like "Eeeep!" Other Brother, though. He is someone with a robust appreciation for a good joke. He was laughing so hard I thought he was going to have a stroke.
The Ballad of Uncle Joe's Underwear (chorus)
We don't always wear pants in West Virginia
The cows don't care, so, Neighbor, why should we?
Our fam'ly policy has always been ya
Don't need to put on pants in West Virginia
PS, I was right about him needing help; the heifers thought that avoiding getting onto the trailer was a Fun New Game. We had a small but intense rodeo that took full effort from both of us. It was like being a kid playing tag again, but with more swear words. And manure.