"Oh dear God. Please don't be a serious rant about how we're all getting fucked by corporations. Please be one of the funny columns. I need a laugh before bed."
Don't worry. Tonight's GF won't be serious. It's going to be about a childhood memory that is, I think, funny and pretty gross, too.
I don't remember much about this man. Except for one thing, which we're going to get to. I think he was related to someone a relative of mine married. I also remember his name, but I won't mention it here. I'm being vague because I'm almost certain this is a story he wouldn't want me to tell. I'm not even sure he's still alive, but why take the chance?
I actually learned something valuable from him, something I practice every day, but when he departed this wisdom to me, it wasn't what I immediately remembered. That thing that I still remember. We're getting to that.
I don't recall how young I was. Maybe ten? I know I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet. It was a family reunion for a family I was related to by marriage (probably), and it was the first time I met most of them. Anyway, after he and I and someone else (sorry, I'm in protect-the-innocent mode for this one) finished up going fishing, we returned to civilization and I had to piss. So did this guy I'm talking about. There were two urinals, so we wound up next to each other.
He said to me, "Paul, if you learn nothing else from me, I want you to remember this. Be consistent."
(He called me by my middle name because that's how family referred to me. I've never really liked my middle name, which is why only a select few are currently allowed to call me that. And no, it's not because of all the questions I'm asked because of it, like, "Where's George and Ringo?" And, "Were you born before John Paul II was named Pope?" I just never liked the sound of Paul Bruni. John Bruni sounds a lot better to me.)
So he kept talking about being consistent, but I zoned out because while he was talking to me and pissing, he'd turned to look at me, practically shoving his huge cock in my face. Up to that point in my life, the biggest dick I'd ever seen was my grandfather's. While he wasn't a nudist exactly, he wasn't shy to be in the house naked. But now I had this giant porn cock mere inches from me. If I sneezed, or he did, I would have been in danger of getting cock slapped. It was kind of terrifying, actually.
But I'll be goddammed if that lesson didn't stick with me. Every once in a while I say something that I think is witty and new, and someone reminds me that I said it years ago. So I'm nothing if not consistent. There was even one time I mentioned something on Twitter that I could have sworn I'd never said before, but sure enough I'd posted it verbatim almost a year previous to the day.
So what the hell? Be consistent.
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