September 2004

Postcards From A Jerk

When discussing with Grandpa what to fill this space with, he had a great idea. He suggested that I write about my obnoxious postcard sending habit when I go on vacation. Or anywhere. I thought that was a good idea, especially since the story of my recent vacation isn't much to tell. I got drunk in South Carolina. Oh, and in Savannah Georgia, too. See, that's pretty much the whole story.

So back to the postcards. For years I've been sending Grandpa, and most everyone else I know, obnoxious postcards whenever I go someplace. I gloat. I thing the only more obnoxious thing I do as consistently is to call Mr. Joshua every time I go to the beach. Usually while he's at work and I've got a buzz on, with my feet in the water. He loves that. A lot.

I don't know when I developed my obsession with sending postcards. No idea. I guess it was sometime during college. I would suppose the reason would be that everyone loves to get mail, and it's far more entertaining to me to take that innate excitement of receiving real mail and using it to gloat instead of just calling somebody up to tell them you are having fun without them. That's being obnoxious without any finesse. If you really want to be a jerk, you're got to use some charm. So you can keep being obnoxious to the same people as long as you want.

I think it's fair to say, that unless you're one of my grandparents, you can pretty much roll your eyes as soon as you see my postcard in your mailbox. You know I'm going to be obnoxious. Even if I'm just sending you a postcard from across town to wish you happy birthday. But if you're Grandpa, you can be damned sure it's going to be obnoxious. Especially because it's often addressed to "Boner McGee". But I think my favorite postcard that I've ever sent was the one I sent to Grandpa and Bigfoot from South of the Border a few years ago all about their Honeymoon Suite. Seriously, South of the Border has a Honeymoon Suite. And they put it on a postcard at one point. I think. At any rate, I can't wait to have my wedding there. Or at least take a vacation there. Why will so few of my friends willingly stop there every time we pass through?

I think the best postcard I ever received was from a friend of mine who lived in Greece at the time. The photo on the front was some hot chick's bare ass. I think it was next to watermelons or something. It was delicious! And is still on my fridge. I'm pretty sure that the worst postcards I've ever received were from Grandpa on his recent vacation in Canada. The postcards were fine, but that asshole mailed them once he had already gotten home. What a dork.

Now is the point where I doubt that this article was really a very good idea. I thought I could go on about this for a while. I guess not. I'll just say that postcards are a valuable form of interpersonal communication for obnoxious jerks like me.