Monday, August 1, 2005

I'm calling him Bubba Ass

I just spent the weekend with perhaps the most horribly irritating person I’ve ever met in my life. To get an idea of how onerous this person is, (I’ll call him Bubba Ass) think of all the people you know who have ever pissed you off, offended you or irritated the crap out of you and roll them into one person and that combination MIGHT be half as bad as my brother-in-law.

I’m a fairly laid back person. There are members of my husband’s family (and mine for that matter) who I don’t particularly relish being around, but I can find some redeeming quality in them or at least can carry on a halfway civil conversation with; not Bubba Ass.

He is a legend in his own mind. He’s a tad bit redneck, thinks he’s God’s gift to women and you can tell by his actions and words that he thinks women are second-class citizens and stupid.

Initially my repulsion of him stemmed from the way he talks to my husband’s sister. Not only does Bubba Ass make her the butt of jokes and stories he tells, humiliating her or making her look like an idiot, but when she talks he second guesses her and in some instances flat out tells her she’s stupid. This I cannot abide. They both obviously are so lacking in self-esteem they’d put a kid starring in an after-school special to shame.

Bubba Ass also knows something about everything under the sun, and he knows more than you do about it. I know a lot of people like this, and normally I can shrug them off and it doesn’t bother me, but this guy challenges everything everyone says. You could say, wow, I think it’s starting to sprinkle and he’s say, oh really? (like a lawyer cross-examining a guilty, lying witness) I don’t think it is, I think that was just a bird flying overhead.

Saturday night we made the horrible mistake of breaking out the Trivial Pursuit. I asked up front if everyone (meaning them) was familiar with the rules, we went over the basics etc. then started to play. So Bubba Ass starts playing the weirdest game of TP I’ve ever seen. I said Bubba, what are you doing? That’s not in the rules.

Let me read the rulebook, Bubba said. (I’m thinking to myself, go ahead if you think you can put all those letters together and make them into words you freaking idiot).

He reads the rulebook cover to cover and then proclaims that I must not have the complete rulebook because he has three different editions of the game and he knows how to play. His wife then asks to look at the rules, hoping I’m sure to find a loophole to appease her idiot husband so he will quit pouting like a two-year old, and he says, well here they are if you think you can understand them!

With that I got up and went to the garage to smoke (we don’t smoke in our house). Bubba Ass and my hubby (God he’s incredible—this I’ve realized the more I see other men and how they behave) follow me to the garage for a smoke. Bubba Ass then launches into why we should smoke in our house, we can get air cleaners, etc. and it’s not like the kids have asthma. And just the tone of his voice—you know the one I’m talking about—tells that he thinks we’re stupid for not smoking in our house.

We played the game for about another ½ hour, all the while he’s grumbling because we aren’t playing by his rules etc. Now I’m the type of person when I play a game, yes I like to win, but in Trivia Pursuit there are TONS of questions I scratch my head at and because they are trivial I do not feel like an idiot. Bubba Ass is the person who tries to make EVERYONE feel like an idiot—what? You don’t know the answer to that? Everyone knows that, it’s right on the tip of my tongue (turns the card over, reads the answer and says) yeah, that’s what I thought it was.

Ok, (see even writing about him makes my blood boil) not only was all of that not bad enough, but he offered my son (remember he’s FIVE) a drink of beer and he dared my daughter (remember she’s EIGHT) to stick her hand in a water-filled ashtray. Thankfully my children have more sense than God obviously gave Bubba Ass and declined.

Oh, and if you’re driving up and down the East coast on the highway, be careful. Bubba Ass is a truck driver who admitted he drives way more than whatever the law allows, and I’d be willing to wager he’s not always sober when he does it.

Though I did offer him a few sharp words and witty put downs (which went right over his buzz-cut, pock-marked, shit-for-brains head) I refrained from being too much on the offensive with him. You see Bubba Ass and my sister-in-law have only been married a few months. He was married before (actually when he started dating my sister-in-law) and his now ex-wife had a horrible “accident” when she and Bubba Ass were mowing the field with a bush hog. Somehow she ended up underneath it.

2 comments:

BigT said...

This reminds me of my numerous POOR WHITE TRASH cousins! I wish someone would explain to me why it is that people coming from the same gene pool can end up in such different circumstances.

Annabelle said...

buwahahaha...what a nozzle

So...i call dudes like him The Chad. Mostly because every Chad I know is that guy. But should I meet a bubba ass, ill begin to address him as the chad without explaining why. Drives em mad.

Ah in laws