While we're on the subject of my Uncle Jim's...er...unique personality, I feel obliged to fully disclose something. Like MANY members of my family (myself included), he's always been a little weird.
Case in point: an infamous day in history - the Gorilla Incident.
When I was younger, my Uncle Jim reveled in being the quirky guy that he is. One time, my sister and I flew alone to their house in northern Wisconsin. Jim picked us up at the gate in a bathrobe and crown, calling himself "the King." And not in a funny, kitschy, Elvis-y sort of way. I was 8 and I knew enough about life to be painfully embarassed by his antics.
But rewind a second, back to the task at hand. This time, I was too young to catch on to the "scenario" being played out in the house during one of our much anticipated visits. My aunt went along with it, which kills me...anyway, we arrived and she informed us to be on the lookout for a gorilla that had escaped from the local zoo. (I didn't know that not only was there NOT a gorilla in their local zoo, there was NO LOCAL ZOO)
A couple minutes pass, and we hear thumping coming from upstairs. My mother, my aunt, my sister, and I all headed up there to investigate. By the time we hit the master bedroom, the thumping was accompanied by a fantastic wail of sorts - a really guttural sound. Definitely not human. I remember my sister, who had just hit that age where she was *this* much too big to be carried, requested to be picked up and held.
Suddenly *THRAP* goes the crawl space door in the ceiling, and out comes a rainshower of bananas - one of them hit me in the neck. Do you know how painful it is to be hit in the neck by a banana?! FULL. SIZE. BANANAS. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.
And wouldn't you know it, a gorilla comes climbing out of the attic/crawl space growling, clawing, and generally carrying on. I remember screaming so loud that I didn't know if any sound was actually coming out of my mouth -- I became deaf with fear.
Several minutes (and a lifetime of therapy) later, the gorilla reaches for his neck, and slowly peels his head off to reveal my very sweaty Uncle Jim. He was grinning from ear to ear, that bastard.
So when I say that I don't like pranks, don't like practical jokes, and don't like surprises, BELIEVE ME. I DON'T. I still don't appreciate the humor that comes from embarassment, or set-ups. I don't like shows like "Punk'd," and "Candid Camera" because they truly upset me -- I can't watch them.
This story came up (and it usually does during family time) over lunch this weekend. I received some beautiful gifts from my loving relatives, and had a good time. My niece Brianna said "Happy DayDay" immediately upon my arrival, which loosely translated, means "Happy Birthday" and also probably means she'd been practicing saying it all week. It made my day-day.
Bri, I promise I'll never scare you with fake gorilla suits and projectile bananas. I do, however, promise to give you as much love and support as my Uncle Jim has given me over the years. Oh, and I promise never to wear a full-body Cleveland Indians outfit to any of your birthday parties.
Case in point: an infamous day in history - the Gorilla Incident.
When I was younger, my Uncle Jim reveled in being the quirky guy that he is. One time, my sister and I flew alone to their house in northern Wisconsin. Jim picked us up at the gate in a bathrobe and crown, calling himself "the King." And not in a funny, kitschy, Elvis-y sort of way. I was 8 and I knew enough about life to be painfully embarassed by his antics.
But rewind a second, back to the task at hand. This time, I was too young to catch on to the "scenario" being played out in the house during one of our much anticipated visits. My aunt went along with it, which kills me...anyway, we arrived and she informed us to be on the lookout for a gorilla that had escaped from the local zoo. (I didn't know that not only was there NOT a gorilla in their local zoo, there was NO LOCAL ZOO)
A couple minutes pass, and we hear thumping coming from upstairs. My mother, my aunt, my sister, and I all headed up there to investigate. By the time we hit the master bedroom, the thumping was accompanied by a fantastic wail of sorts - a really guttural sound. Definitely not human. I remember my sister, who had just hit that age where she was *this* much too big to be carried, requested to be picked up and held.
Suddenly *THRAP* goes the crawl space door in the ceiling, and out comes a rainshower of bananas - one of them hit me in the neck. Do you know how painful it is to be hit in the neck by a banana?! FULL. SIZE. BANANAS. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.
And wouldn't you know it, a gorilla comes climbing out of the attic/crawl space growling, clawing, and generally carrying on. I remember screaming so loud that I didn't know if any sound was actually coming out of my mouth -- I became deaf with fear.
Several minutes (and a lifetime of therapy) later, the gorilla reaches for his neck, and slowly peels his head off to reveal my very sweaty Uncle Jim. He was grinning from ear to ear, that bastard.
So when I say that I don't like pranks, don't like practical jokes, and don't like surprises, BELIEVE ME. I DON'T. I still don't appreciate the humor that comes from embarassment, or set-ups. I don't like shows like "Punk'd," and "Candid Camera" because they truly upset me -- I can't watch them.
This story came up (and it usually does during family time) over lunch this weekend. I received some beautiful gifts from my loving relatives, and had a good time. My niece Brianna said "Happy DayDay" immediately upon my arrival, which loosely translated, means "Happy Birthday" and also probably means she'd been practicing saying it all week. It made my day-day.
Bri, I promise I'll never scare you with fake gorilla suits and projectile bananas. I do, however, promise to give you as much love and support as my Uncle Jim has given me over the years. Oh, and I promise never to wear a full-body Cleveland Indians outfit to any of your birthday parties.
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