How to make sure someone's not going to show up

The following is an excerpt from Don's infamous "Wedding Report" edition of the Redneck Reports. That Report covers so much ground I thought it would be best to split it out into several Reports, so your head doesn't explode. Not that I don't want your head to explode, I just would like to SEE your head explode, maybe get it on video, there's no point in your head exploding if I can't record it, edit it, add a nice musical score and post it up on YoutTube.

Anyways this excerpt is about how to make sure people don't show up at an event.

-jebby

HOW TO MAKE SURE SOMEONE'S NOT GOING TO SHOW UP.

So, a few weeks back I went to Detroit. I did such stupid things. Well, it was for work, so I really did do such stupid things. Gave the word out to the Boys on the Street. From here on out, it'll either be abbreviated SOBs (Street on the Boys. . . . It's French, what did you expect? I mean, you don't think they say, "Pardon my French," because the French are smelly, do you?), it will be an anagram (bone both tree sty), or will be something more coherent to what's going on (yea, Mitch and Wayde, they're SOBs).

So, anyhow, I called them up (SOBs) and we decided to go up to Applebee's for lunch around 1:00 pm. That's because that's the time I thought I'd be up there.

And now for the theme of the Redneck Report.

HOW TO MAKE SURE SOMEONE'S NOT GOING TO SHOW UP.

Now, this is a hard recipe to follow, so I'll make it r.e.a.l. . . s.l.o.w. . . f.o.r. . . t.h.o.s.e. . . o.f. . . y.o.u. . . w.h.o. . . a.r.e.n.'.t. . . o.n. . . s.p.e.e.d.. This is for making sure the following people do not show up to an event.

A warning. You must use these sparingly, for I'm sure sooner or later these people will catch on.

• Mitch: Just tell him to meet you up at Applebee's. He's sure to find something else to do. And, hey, it's already battle-tested. . . twice!

• Wayde: Just tell him you'll hate him forever. He'll call off work, sit back and wait for phone calls. Meanwhile, everyone else will try him at work and notice that he's not there. Therefore, they'll think that Wayde's out with someone else, and not even bother calling him to go out and party and eat at White Castle (Sorry, Wayde, but I truly thought you were out with Trish, Adam and Lauren).

• Trish: Just tell her that Wayde's with you. She'll know you'll never show up. Just like the class reunion, eh?
  

• Ginch: Just tell him the D.E.A. (a different definition of SOBs) will show up. The rest is self-explanatory.
  

• Mark: Just ask him if he's got to work that weekend. Sure enough, he'll have some job requiring him to put in 78 hours in two days.
  

• Adam: Just don't call him (OK, OK, so I couldn't think of anything. Sue Me!)
  

• Ian: Just tell him you're going to a bar that cards. If that doesn't work, ask him when feeding time is.
  

• Me: Just tell me I've got another wedding to go to. I'll believe it.
  

• Andy: Just remind him he's in New York. He'll believe it, too.
  

• Tell Scott and Dex they're in totally different time zones (Ohio has a time zone all of its own you know. It's called BC. For instance, you could say, "In Ohio, it's 430 BC," and everyone would believe you).
  

• Tell Greg and Michael they've got Master-type papers to write. I'm really sure you'd watch them get to work. Phfttt. Yea, right.

OK, back to something a little less meaty.

I got up to Wayde's house at 1:00. We called up Mitch. . . and got the answering machine. See, it's working already!. . . .

Lunch was swell, and this time I only left four or five messages on Mitch's Dylan-Machine. And they all could be viewed by the entire family (I'm trying to get myself a PG rating. I need the audience. I star Kevin Costner).

Anyhow, I was up there in Michigan for work related reasons. Mobil paid us a few hundred thousand to find where they're at. No, really. Mobil has no clue as to where they're all at. And, since I grew up near Detroit, I had to go up there and find out where they're at and what was going on. I was sooooo humiliated. I felt soooooo violated. I am sooooo stupid.

Well, at least I'm not as stupid as Mobil. They had no clue that the Mobil on the SW corner of Fort and West was closed. Hide and Seek with the big boys, eh?

I didn't get home until 5:30 am the next morning. The last thing I wanted to do, I assure you, was to drive around 7 Mile and John R. On top of going through the better parts of town (you know, Fort Street and Biddle on the South Side, 7 Mile on Any Side, and E Jefferson on the East Side), I had to go through Arabic Town. I thought they were all in Dearborn (fallacy: They're all in Iran, and you know it!). But, then I remembered that all near 75 on the North side is Arabs. They want to be as close to the home land as possible: Arabs with shitty property there, and the Jews all above 8 Mile. Nuff said.

They're everywhere, too. Gunshots, not Arabs. They're only in Dearborn. And Arabia. And North Detroit. And New York. And on and on. And they told two friends. And they told two friends. And so on. And so on.

to be continued in the next exciting Redneck Report!