miss. kitty's ranch and the cackling dentist

my brother-in-law is a dentist. his name is dr. lemone and he has a very distinct laugh and by distinct i mean border-line annoying. to make matters worse, he laughs at his own jokes. to make matters worser, he repeats his jokes profusely and when i say he repeats his jokes i don't mean he tells the same joke twice over a six month or two year period, i mean he tells the same joke twice or even three times in a row within a matter of minutes (to the same person). but, to make things even worser, his jokes generally aren't funny; however, listening to him laugh is. to give you a visualization, he kind of looks and sounds like jerry seinfield except that he's not nearly as funny and he has blonde hair (once we were watching seinfield and jameson asked if that was uncle bryson on tv... i'm not sure he appreciates the comparison... seinfield that is). btw, i know "worser" isn't really a word.

dr. lemone is a great guy. we like to give each other a hard time. i think he understands his own goofiness and doesn't take himself too seriously, so i tend to capitalize on those traits when making fun of him. i would feel bad about this except that he brings it on himself by instigating the jokes about me being short and stuff like that. in response, i do what any self-respecting person would do and defend myself and my family's honor. i usually get the last word in though because i know the surefire a-bomb comment that always puts an end to our juvenile verbal spouts.

you see, dr. lemone is supersensitive about a certain physical feature which i at least will have the sensitivity not to mention publicly on the world wide web, but everyone nose that exploiting a physical feature someone is self-conscious about is like a charging rhino plastering that person's will to defend him/herself. as such, i am ashamed to admit that i have often had to resort to such seedy tactics in the fog of brotherly warfare. it's an ugly side of humanity that no one should have to see, but you are able to sleep in peace at night, free from the echoing cackles of a devious dentist because of it. no need to thank me... i am only doing what any decent person would do.

so, here's the rub: bryson has practically been begging me for a year or two now to come get some free dental work at his office. free dental work... how can a student turn that down? that's very kind of b, but i should have known better. no sooner had i allowed myself to be strapped down to a dental chair complete with gauze and all sorts of dental instruments stuffed in my paralyzed mouth than i realized that dr. lemone had me just where he wanted me.

he was in his element. he was poised for revenge. he could make all the bad jokes and sling all the hand-me-down insults he wanted with no fear of verbal retribution from me. believe me, i tried and i gagged. not pretty. i just looked and sounded dumb which only emboldened the doctor (if you can call a dentist that) giving him more reason to ridicule me. and the cackling began. a wicked sounding laughter only heard in the movies when the villain has triumphed and is monologue"ing" in the face of an apparent triumph. worse yet, i was helpless. have you ever tried to talk with all that stuff in your mouth and a numb tongue? rest assured, dr. lemone took advantage of my weakened state like lex luthor laying into a kryptonite debilitated superman.

and so there i lie, taking it like a man... suffering through the wicked cackle coming from the face behind the mask as i silently plotted my verbal retaliation. minute after minute, i was only getting stronger even though i suspect he increased the anesthetic dosage to over paralyze my tongue to the point that it would still be numb once the initial obstacles, the instruments and cotton candy, were out of my mouth. he would, too. but then it hit me, dr. lemone needed this. getting back at me for years of jokes about his self-conscious physical feature helped him feel better about himself and, so, in the spirit of brotherly love i was happy to oblige. i took one for my brother from another mother and let him bask in his personal punic victory... at least right up until he spoiled it for himself.

how is that you say? well, the cooper clan often tags along on the coat tails of big jeff to attend various charitable events throughout the valley. a couple of these events have become annual traditions for the cooper family. one of these events is the nevada cancer institute beach party. pretty splashy event. lots of money, lots of booze, lots of superficiality, lots cougars (not the byu type) that never got the memo that they're not in high school anymore which is a perfect lead-in for the next "lots of": and lots of plastic surgery (so i've heard, i haven't noticed myself). to add a little perspective, a very undeservingly famous socialite named after a place in france with the initials ph showed up at the last one. it's pretty big time. good food and lots of dancing (you should see my sisters... they're big eaters and surprisingly limber dancers). we have good old fashioned sober fun with all the hoopla and puffy pirate shirts, not to mention all the odd looks we get from the less than sober crowd although the odd looks might just be the excessive amounts of alcohol kicking in.

after the beach party there's the party at miss. kitty's ranch. hold on, let me explain. i understand full well that, generally, in nevada, when speaking of a ranch owned by a female named after a small furry animal, certain less than reputable suppositions start to flood one's mind. believe you me, this is not the case here. miss. kitty is not that kind of woman and her ranch is definitely not that type of "ranch." mrs. kitty's ranch party is an event held for the opportunity village which is a very noble organization pushing a very noble cause. but, if you were familiar with nevada's less than stellar reputation for the legalization of several vice attracting institutions and not as familiar with the opportunity village and its affiliation with the philanthropic miss. kitty and her ranch, then you may have assumed the worse...

well, such was the case the other day when dr. lemone had me in his grips and, as noted above, i was defenseless. and for that matter, so was his dental assistant who has to sit and listen to his jokes day in and day out (she's an employee). she can't say anything to dr. lemone for fear of losing her job. so, she, too, must sit and listen... and listen she did the other day when dr. lemone asked her, "you think jer's a good guy? you should ask him about miss. kitty's ranch..." he tried to act like he didn't mean what it sounded like he meant, but it was too late. she had likely come to her own conclusion as evidenced by her reaction and she conveniently all of sudden reached for an extra pair of latex gloves (just kidding about the gloves). it was a perfect recipe for disaster: me unable to defend myself, a dental assistant not from here but familiar with vegas' promiscuous proclivities, and bryson's window of opportunity to take a shot at the brother-in-law who has caused him to cower in self defeat so many times.

so, he did... and here's what i still haven't figured out? did he intentionally drop the miss. kitty's ranch bomb knowing his assistant would presume he meant one of the ranches in one of the lawless outer rim towns of nevada? or did he really innocently mention mrs. kitty's ranch not realizing the connotation it carried? if the former, then, i've got to say that b was in the zone that day and playing way above himself... that move was just short of genius. but, if the latter, then all i have to say is even a broken clock gives the right time twice a day. sometimes it's better to be lucky than good.

amazingly, i keep going back to possibility that his design was devious and i have to wonder, how long had he been planning this? how many nights had he sat up thinking of the perfect double entendre that he could drop on me in public, in a situation where i had no means of defending my good name? is there a secret room in his house filled with all sorts of clippings pinned to the wall and streams of thread connecting pictures of me to index cards with different insults and phrases all coming together in perfect maniacal mess? had he tested this one out on my other brothers/in-laws in an effort to perfect the insult? how he must have counted down the days for me, the last of the family, to enter his lair and submit myself to his mercy. i gotta hand it to him, he delivered on the miss. kitty's ranch card... sad thing is, now i'll have to hear about it at every sunday dinner for the next 18 months. the reverberating cackle is echoing in my mind already.

at least i've got the blog. i'm not sure bryson knows how to use blogs (it's an age thing). so, who's the defenseless one now?