My Uncle Gary
My favorite uncle is my mom’s brother Gary. Gary is an amazing human being whom I have idolized since I was a little kid. In 1987, he was fired from his job at KMart after a brief stint working in the sporting goods section. He then decided to hit road and drive a tractor-trailer. He does not have a CDL or even a regular driver’s license, but that minor roadblock has not stopped him from transporting good across the country for the better part of three decades. In 1992, he was arrested for running into the outfield at Atlanta-Fulton County stadium during a Braves game and trying to give a high five to his favorite player, Otis Nixon.
No one - and I repeat, no one - loves Hooters more than Gary. He has dined there multiple times every week since 1995. His favorite movie is Showgirls. His favorite vacation spot is Dothan, Alabama.
Gary is in his mid-60’s and is rather portly, with a gray goatee and thick and short but unruly hair. Indeed, he cuts his own hair. He usually wears a Braves 1993 NL West Champs hat and a t-shirt with a bald eagle or mountain lion on the front.
My Cousin Shane
My Uncle Gary’s only son is my cousin Shane, who is my age. Shane redshirted multiple times in school and was an all-region linebacker as a 21-year old senior. He legally drove to school in the eighth grade.
Shane is an entrepreneur’s entrepreneur. After selling doctored baseball cards on EBay in the late ‘90’s and early 2000’s, he eventually found his true calling - selling counterfeit Jeff Blauser jerseys out of the trunk of his 1997 Saturn in the Winn-Dixie parking lot.
Shane’s favorite place on earth was Panama City Beach, but he was devastated when Club La Vela closed and has refused to go back. He used to sell fake IDs to patrons there.
My Sister, and My Brother-in-Law the GTurd Grad
I have one brother and one sister. Unfortunately, my sister - who is rather homely-looking, wears Chaco sandals and “mom jeans,” drives a Prius, and works part-time at a “farm-to-table” coffee shop in Atlanta - went to Agnes Scott for college and elected to pollute the family gene pool by marrying a Georgia Tech (GTurd) graduate. They live with their two pathetic sons (described below) in the Virginia Highlands neighborhood of Atlanta.
My brother-in-law is an electrical engineer (LOL) and pretty much embodies everything you’d expect in a GTurd graduate. He has, at best, a passing understanding of sports, he usually reads Popular Mechanics, and he’s really big into Second Life. He is soft-spoken, but is easily flustered (especially when I get up in his face and bark at him) and very snippy. He drives a Toyota Camry. If you want to really make him angry, just mention that his direct boss at work is a Kennesaw State graduate.
My brother-in-law is about 5’8 and rail thin. He’s balding, has a pathetic excuse for a mustache, and wears glasses that appear to be circa 1997. He usually wears a short-sleeve button up white shirt with a skinny tie, Haggar brand slacks, and Dexter loafers. In other words, he looks like a gigantic tool.
My GTurd Nephews
The unfortunate spawn of my sister and my brother-in-law are my two nephews. They are in elementary school, frail, pale, un-athletic, honor roll students who are supposedly “gifted,” and allergic to/scared of pretty much everything. One of them literally peed his pants one time when my youth football team’ defensive coordinator’s Chrysler LeBaron backfired. They are really into sculpting and ballet.
Despite her inexplicable marital decision making, I actually like my sister, so when she’s requested that I try and help my nephews get better at sports, I’ve tried to help out. But it almost always ends in tears. Most recently, I took them to a gravel parking lot behind Arby’s to hit ground balls at them to try and teach them how to use their body to knock the ball down.
Like their father, my nephews are frail and pathetic-looking. They have truly awful matching haircuts that look like Jim Carey’s in Dumb and Dumber. No matter what they wear, they always have whatever shirt they are wearing tucked into whatever pants or shorts they are wearing. They even tuck their goddamn sweaters in, for Christ’s sake.
My Brother the Accountant
My older brother and I do not always get along, likely because he is jealous of me. In high school, he was a special teams player on the football team who only lettered because all seniors letter, and he’s been envious of me ever since for being a legitimate three-year letterman. He was a two-time all-state tennis (LOLOLOLOL) player. He graduated from UGA with an accounting degree. Although I am a bigger UGA fan than he could ever hope to be, he’s banned my DC and I from his tailgates for supposedly “embarrassing him” when we barked at and ran off an Auburn family he had invited to join the tailgate in 2011. He lives in Charlotte, is an accountant, and is an assistant coach on his daughter’s mediocre soccer team. His wife absolutely hates both me and my youth football team’s DC.
My Parents
My parents are fairly normal. They live in a split-level house with an above-ground pool, in which I reenacted Washington crossing the Delaware for my Fourth of July Party. After running into some financial problems during the financial crisis, I lived in their basement for a couple of years. It was cool, though, because they didn’t harass me or get in the way when I’d inevitably bring back some lucky lady from Beef O’Brady’s. My father is an insurance agent and my mom manages an office supply store.. The entire family gets together at their house for birthdays and holidays, which usually leads to some kind of drama involving me and my DC, on the one hand, and my brother, my brother-in-law, or my nephews on the other.