Think Outside the Box & Read Between the Lines...and do it.: My Grandma was probably way harder than yours.

"Melissa, this iPhone is the God Damn devil, and I'm afraid it's gonna ruin my life." -- Raymond Hicks

GRAN (AKA Inez Patterson....The best Grandma Ever!)

She spanked me with switches. To make it worse, she made me pick out the switch for psychological torture. She taught me how to eat caterpillars for survival, even when we weren't starving to death. She once threatened my cousins boyfriend by telling him if he didn't leave the house and I quote, “She would blow his head off with her 62.” What made that even more Gangster than anything is that a 62 doesn't exist, yet the cousins boy friend didn't question the madness. He knew if he didn't leave, his brains would be hanging out from the entrance of a 62 round going into his skull. Gran had arms that made me jealous in Jr. high. She was swoll and cut up from working in the fields for a majority of her life. But what made her more Gangster than anyone.....she didn't have an iPhone.

I've had an iPhone for approximately 38 hours and it's turned me into 6 words. Very Very Soft, and Terry Terry Cloth. I did go to the gym today for like an hour, but for the other 8 hours I was downloading free Aps, getting up and walking 2 feet to my laptop to see if my facebook and twitter Aps were working accordingly and then I have like 7 games going on with random people playing “Draw Something”...

THIS WAS MY SUPERB DRAWING OF RICK ROSS!

Melissa guessed C-Lo Green lolz....no 9 coins for her.

Gran would kill the shit out of me if she saw how weak her grandson has become. I remember when I thought an E-mail was short for a “She-Mail”, I just thought people were being lazy and leaving off the “Sh” part. Then I heard that you could send it via the intranetz and that scared the living horsefuck out of me. Because I knew not the first thing about intranetz. Shit, I'd rather kill a bald eagle than to have to figure out how to turn on a computer, much less actually operate it. But here I am, addicted to the iPhone. I'm a slave. Literally. I even named my iPhone “Massta” because he controls me now and I have to ask him permission to even go to the bathroom. Because what if I get a facebook update, a twitter reply or someone draws a picture while I'm in there taking a piss. That. Can't. Happen.

Probably what makes this worse is like if you have a heroin addiction, you can go to a methadone clinic. If you drink too much, you have AA. But what the fuck do I do about my 2 day old iPhone addiction. And truthfully, I don't want to seek any help. I want to ride this addiction on out. I love sitting in my bedroom and looking for places within a 10 mile radius to check myself in. I can even check myself into cool places where only rich people go and I'm not allowed. I thought about checking myself into an exclusive Golf Course at 6:45 am this morning, but I realized Golf is a stupid fucking game so I was like Nawwww. I'll just check myself into the Eastside OBGYN clinic. That's probably way more clever and not immature or 3^rd grade type shit at all. Legit!

Well I guess I should probably get back on the topic at hand and let you know some more reasons why my Grandma was so hard.

One time she put me in a head lock and had a fucking death grip around my neck way worse than any UFC fighter could uphold while I was trying to beat up my little cousin Shawn. I did go to sleep. I had never heard the term sleeper hold before that, but once I did hear it, I knew exactly what they meant.
Experation dates on milk might say “best used by November 22”, well Gran thought it was still good for at least 4 months after that, as long as it was in the fridge. Oh, it didn't taste real good, but at least it made my stomach strong enough to where I could drink straight out of the water faucet in Iraq and parts of Mexico.
One Easter when I was like 9 or 10, we found this fishing hole somewhere on the Arkansas river. We started at like 5am that morning and caught something like 77 crappie, 45 perch and another 5-7 bass that just barely made the limit. If my math is correct that's aproximately a shit ton of fish. Gran caught 94% of them and made fun of me for not catching shit. But a sunburn.
My mom and Gran took me and my cousins to Tulsa to a water park when I was in 2^nd grade, going into the 3^rd grade. I got a 7^th degree sunburn. On the way home my cousins Billy and Amy kept slapping the shit out of my sunburn. It hurt. Gran told them to stop. They didn't stop. I cried. She said “Stop crying like a little bitch!” This is why I have no sympathy for people that cry over sunburns.
When I was in 1^st grade my mom had to go to a school for her job in Huntsville, AL. My Gran came along to help babysit me and homeschool me. We went to the space center and she was daring me to do crazy things the whole time, of course I was way too big of a pussy to do them. BUT she did take me to the first Toys R Us I'd ever seen and bought me “Snake Eyes” the best GI Joe ever. I know this wasn't sadistic or anything, but she ruled for that one.

THIS WAS ME STILL LOOKING LIKE A LITTLE BITCH. BUT I WAS IN TRAINING. GRAN WAS MAKING ME GO HARD RIGHT ABOUT THIS TIME!

As Gran got older, like up in her hundreds, she calmed down and our relationship changed. She became a lot sweeter once I turned more into a man. A lot of my crazy stunts I pulled in my adolescence was because between my dad and my Gran, I grew fearless. I was only afraid of them. Not anyone else. I once fought Andrew Maggio when I was in 9^th grade and he was a graduating Senior with a full ride to McNeese. He was like 6 inches taller and 140 lbs heavier than me. The reason I didn't back down: Because his name wasn't Inez “Gran” Patterson or Red Hicks.

This blog is one of those things where I'm trying to brag about how tough I am because my Grandma could kick a lot of ass. But also because I got an iPhone and I feel just like Will Smith in Independence Day when they tried to make him fly that space shuttle.

That's about all I wanted to tell you. My Grandma was Hard like a concrete Junk Yard. The iPhone will make me very soft like chicken broth. My world may end as I know it. But I'm learning fast. I'm only 6 years late, but like my Gran would say, “Stop being a little bitch and learn how to use that techmoconology.”

Oh, one more thing, the funniest shit Gran used to say to me or any of my cousins when we'd either say or do something ridiculously stupid....she'd say “retardation gone to sea!” I still don't know what it means, but please believe I use it on the reg. Any chance I get.

Keeping it realer than your grandma that used a track phone and don't know shit about the iPhizzle. Like me!

Bitch!

Oh, this is me and Gran after I became a stud. She made me hard and not soft like the terry cloth some of you are accustomed to.