Me And My Bladder, Strolling Down The Avenue

Do not play dumb when somebody asks you a direct question. Just don't. And don't repeat the question while you stall for an answer. Because both of those tactics make you look like Shady H, the man who must know everything about somebody else's dalliances and whereabouts, while revealing none of his own.

I thought the question was pretty straightforward:

Where are you and your full bladder off to on Monday?

Simple, yes? The answer should be in the form of a location. But no. The answer is never simple for The Man Who Would Be Mean.

"What do you mean?"

Obviously, English is not his first language. Where is looking for a location. The rest of the question just specifies who all is taggin' along on this voyage, and when the launch will occur.

After I repeated my question, Shady H repeated the question:

Where am I and my full bladder off to on Monday?

Yes. WHERE??????

I had to ask, you see, because a woman left a message instructing Shady H to come on Monday with a full bladder. I didn't hear the beginning, because she garbled it. Shady H has made no mention of treating his full bladder to a day on the town. So I had to ask.

Turns out that Shady H thinks he has his annual appointment with his urologist. As if somebody else could conceivably have called and requested the presence of Shady H and his full bladder.

This comes on Wednesday, after Sunday, when I talked to my mom on the landline for five minutes, and Shady H tried to call three times, and then tried to call my mom on her landline, and then came home and demanded to know who I'd been talking to. My mom was not a good enough answer for him, because he declared that her line rang, so I couldn't have been talking to her. I suppose he's never heard of call waiting.

Great Googley Moogley, man! Subpoena my phone records why don't you? I'll be out front, whipping up a big batch of crow.