Welcome to our family reunion: most of the folks here you've seen in pictures but never had a formal introduction. You've heard stories about a few of them: Uncle Preston sitting over by the punch fountain with the woman who's complexion obviously lets you know she's a guest. His face you can find on billboards around town boasting that he'll take any case-too bad for nepotism because maybe I'd still have my driving priveleges. And then there's cousin Madison, sitting in the loneliest corner of this otherwise jovial summertime function and rightfully so: Certified Ball Buster. Don't get me wrong, she's ambitious, cultured, has degrees out the wazoo, BUT, she's also the owner of worst attitude this side of Texas: rumor has it that she garnered the attention of a promising rookie shooting guard back in the early 90's but dumped him when she found out he went in the second round of the NBA draft and that his "money wasn't guaranteed". That story gets even more tragic, but enough about them.
I could go on and on, Youngblood, about people and their shortcomings. But allow me to introduce myself first: I am your Drunk Uncle Cutty: Certified Shit Talker. My tumble from grace has left some in cocaine induced states of toxic euphoria, other's as speedbumps for trains, but I'm something like a roach; a survivor of my own nuclear holocaust. I am "Unc" on the corner that reminds you of how lucky you were to not be born before the 80's. I am that uncle whose impeccable sense of balance prevents me from tipping over while my drunken stupor b!tchslaps the laws of gravity...and also leads me to believe I'm still the baddest dancer since the Godfather himself (Michael WHO??!!!). I used to have trouble distinguishing the hamper from the toilet on any given night, but now I realize that a toilet is where much of today's music belongs.
Bottom Line, nephew, I have stories for days. I know how the wrongs of the world should be righted. I could've been president honestly, but people like me just don't get to be politicians....I know you are thinking "...but what about George Bush?..." and to that I say "run down the street and get Ol' Cutdog a pint o' Thunderbird and I'll tell you all about it....."
I am your Drunk Uncle Cutty and when I talk you better listen up youngin'....and no you can't keep the change!
I could go on and on, Youngblood, about people and their shortcomings. But allow me to introduce myself first: I am your Drunk Uncle Cutty: Certified Shit Talker. My tumble from grace has left some in cocaine induced states of toxic euphoria, other's as speedbumps for trains, but I'm something like a roach; a survivor of my own nuclear holocaust. I am "Unc" on the corner that reminds you of how lucky you were to not be born before the 80's. I am that uncle whose impeccable sense of balance prevents me from tipping over while my drunken stupor b!tchslaps the laws of gravity...and also leads me to believe I'm still the baddest dancer since the Godfather himself (Michael WHO??!!!). I used to have trouble distinguishing the hamper from the toilet on any given night, but now I realize that a toilet is where much of today's music belongs.
Bottom Line, nephew, I have stories for days. I know how the wrongs of the world should be righted. I could've been president honestly, but people like me just don't get to be politicians....I know you are thinking "...but what about George Bush?..." and to that I say "run down the street and get Ol' Cutdog a pint o' Thunderbird and I'll tell you all about it....."
I am your Drunk Uncle Cutty and when I talk you better listen up youngin'....and no you can't keep the change!
