. . . . I have friends who have asked me to be present upon their demise and ferret away their porn collections so their "loving" families don't have to discover "Uncle Bob's ugly secret." Personally, I think it would do their families some good to sift through Uncle Bob's hobbies.
Ha! My very prim and proper father dropped an entire box full of my nastiest, dirtiest, most explicit gay porn magazines while moving me out of my (single) dorm room at college one fine spring day. When everyone else was moving out of my dorm. Yep, parents everywhere. And their quarantine-the-AIDS-patients-who-all-deserved-what-they-got-anyway kids, too.
He came up the stairs looking as though an alien invasion was imminent. :biggrin1: Yep, thump thump THUMP-ing feet as he ran up the stairs, big staring eyes, red sweaty face, and wobbly voice
:biggrin1: as he asked me (in a hushed but intense whisper) not to EVER "make [him] carry anything like that to the car ever again."
Apparently, as I learned from him after I finished literally rolling on the floor with laughter, the box had split and the magazines had gone every which way on the pavement right next to the university chaplain, a real homophobe--who raised both eyebrows to the hairline, excused himself from talking with some truly conservative hetero parents, and said, "Let me help you gather
those together, Mr. <NCbear's surname>."
:biggrin1:
I wish I'd been there. :biggrin1::biggrin1::biggrin1: I'd have forgotten my own embarrassment in reveling in my father's. :redface::redface::redface: :biggrin1::biggrin1::biggrin1: :tongue::tongue::tongue: :slomo:
NCbear (who thinks that one incident may have helped me get much of my own back for my father becoming more and more absent as I was growing up -- karma's a real bitch sometimes, as I keep finding out :tongue: :slomo