The gifts of the Corbi.

Friday afternoon, Corb spent the afternoon helping his Mom, as she finally started the process of moving out of Scott’s house, and into her new place with her fiancée, Jim.

As I was driving home from work, Corb gave me a call. “Mom had some really great things that she asked me to take off her hands,” he said excitedly. “The whole back of the car is full.”

“What kind of things, sweetie?” I asked, holding the cell phone to my ear while I opened my passenger’s side door to throw my laptop inside.

“She has this great antique box that she’s giving us,” he said. “It’s beautiful! You open it up, and the whole thing smells like cedar. I think it’s about 200 years old!”

“Ohhhhh,” I said, stopping suddenly. Corb had aroused my...spirit of mischief. “So, let me get this straight. You’re bringing home your mother’s smelly old box?”

“Yes, Ted, that’s exactly right,” he said, with his patented tone. “And I’m going to stick it in the living room, and everything.”

“Oh, good. You’re going to put your mother’s smelly old box in the living room, for everyone to see. Is it a big box, by any chance?”

“Huge,” he said, and paused for a moment. “Of course.”

“That should be quite a conversation piece,” I said. “Anything else?”

“Yes! She also gave me this antique chest, which I’m going to place in the corner, where we wanted to put the record player...”

“Wait, wait!” I cried out, even more amused. “So, your mother let you handle her chest?”

“Yes, Ted,” he said, sounding slightly irritated.

Pause.

“Does she have any huge knockers for you to bring home, too?” I asked, completely innocently.

Click.

The next afternoon, Corb called me, on his way home from work. I was whiling away the hours constructively downloading porn at the computer in the big bedroom. “You’ll never guess what one of the guests gave me today!” he said, excitedly. "Three beautiful garden pots, from Peru. They have these decorations on them, and they’re—“

“Wait, wait, wait!” I cried out, and I could hear him groaning. “You’re telling me that today, someone in your hotel handed you a mess of Peruvian pot? Corb, you have the most interesting life in the world!”

It makes me wonder, however. What call will I receive tomorrow? Is his sister-in-law going to give him a big furry beaver? Will one of his friend’s slip him a huge uncut salami? The possibilities are endless.

Here, by the way, is a picture of his mother’s chest, with the Peruvian pots placed on top of it. I tell you, does anyone ever wonder why Corb puts up with me?

My predictions on about who will get voted off AI, hidden for those who don't want/care to know

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