Two months have gone by and I’m losing my patience with this whole deal. I know I came back home to spend time with my family but have you ever met my family? A week would have been plenty. The siblings are great but I hardly ever see them. I spend the lion’s share of my time with my grandmother and her alternating pair of caretakers (and that’s not by choice). Why two? Because they need a break. Sure, my 93 year old grandma may look all frail and innocent but that hunchbacked minion of Lucifer could make a wolverine kowtow and caper like a timid sugar glider. She’s a scrappy rogue of a geriatric that’s all I’m saying.

Anywho, that’s how I spend the majority of my day, with Grandma and her caretaker. And it isn’t like mom and dad thought of me for one second when they hired the caretaker(s). I expected a large-breasted Colombian woman Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and an equally large-breasted Dominican woman Tuesdays and Thursdays. Both of course would love to mix business with pleasure and have insatiable oral fetishes. And by pleasure I mean traumatizing Grandma with explicit acts of interracial passion on the love seat next to the rockin’ chair she spends most of her day in…waiting to die.

The worst part is that there is only one computer in the house that is connected to our high-speed internet connection and it’s in the front room, directly to the left of the front door and foyar. Two french doors (with no locking mechanism whatsoever) separate this important room from the rest of the house and its inhabitants. Most of you who know me will understand how vital this room is, for those of you who don’t allow me to explain.

I need to masturbate.

Simple as that. And as easily as it would be for me to excuse myself to go to the bathroom and use my imagination…like a chump…I’d much rather prefer to “conjugate the verb” while watching streaming hardcore pornography. It’s a quality of life issue I’m not too keen on ceding for the sake of the Sicilian, centenarian hate monger passed out on the couch with the Food Network blaring. But she never leaves the house, because she can’t, so you can imagine the masturbatory purgatory I’m presently existing in.

So I’m chatting with my friend on Instant Messanger the other day and send the IM appreviation “brb” which of course means “bowel/rectal biopsy” or “be right back” I’m not entirely sure, I’m new to this online chatting phenomenon/fad. But I got back a few minutes later and wrote, “Sorry. I had to take care of grandma.” He immediately responds with “Yeah suurrrre,” which I knew was sarcastic because of the extra “u’s” and “r’s” he used. He naturally assumed I left to spank it which is not unfounded, but I had really gone out to help grandma to the dining table and make her some lunch, but the phrase stuck with me.

Taking care of grandma.

Think about it! It’s the perfect euphemism for throttling the cycloptic spitting cobra which I believe is the term used by the American Medical Association. It’s cute, unoffensive and is metaphorically sound. Just check out the similarities between my grandma and my penis.

1. They are, more oft than not, a pale white and quite wrinkly, unless I’m aroused or whenever my grandma accidently walks into a windtunnel (Then she looks like the Luck Dragon from A Neverending Story.) and then they both tend to lose their respective wrinkled quality.

2. When erect they both rise to about 8 inches above my hip bone.

3. When either my grandma or penis gets excited or angry they started spitting in peoples’ faces.

I could probably find more commonalities but you get the point. It’s sound. And you can use this with your friends and no one will know you’re talking about engaging in the sinful dirty act of masturbation. For example: here’s a conversation you overhear at the watercooler at your office one morning.

Guy 1: Dude, can’t believe it’s already Monday. You catch the Jaguars game yesterday? Did ya? Lord Byron baby Lord Byron!

Guy 2: Yeah I watched it at the Wing Shack, then I went home and took care of grandma.

Guy 1: Oh yeah how’s she doing?

Guy 2: Quite frankly she’s was getting out of line. I had to put hands on her. Choked her so hard she puked up her oatmeal.

Guy 1: Word?

Guy 2: Word.

You see?! It’s Brilliant! A short conversation and no one is the wiser that after you ate chicken wings you went home and jacked off all over yourself. They just think you strangled your good for nothing grandmother. This is global, this is the next “Hey Hey Hey” or, dare I say, “Dyn-o-mite!” I allow and encourage all of you to use this phrase and spread it around…to the farthest edges of your social circles (I got T-shirts in the works). Are you as excited as I am? Because I’m excited. You know what? I think I need to take a break and… TAKE CARE OF GRANDMA!! WOO HOO!!

Author’s note: I seriously considered using a generic grandma image from Google images but thought differently considering the subject matter of this post. It is only proper that I use my own grandmother. And itf she has a problem with it then maybe she should have been nicer to me growing up. Hey Grandma! That’s what you get for forgetting my birthday 27 years in a row and telling everyone I wouldn’t amount to anything! Bitch!