The Truth

OK, so I created this blog as a joke and then promptly turned it over to Jim in hopes he would keep us apprised of the pregnancy.

That worked out pretty well, huh? Well, as you can see below, Mandy and the baby are doing just fine. They even have a name picked out for her Morgan Lea. But I am getting ahead of myself.

But since Jim was not posting regularly, I asked permission to do so. Here was his response to me: “Yes. Just bear in mind that I know my parents, in-laws and various other relatives go to the blog. So keep it in your pants.”

Now without wondering aloud what exactly that means, I will note that I am counting on the fact that the entire family reads this blog.

I have a little story to tell. The truth must come out. And it all starts with Mike Armbruster’s dog, Cambi.

Let’s be honest, the dog was a yapper and a pain in the arse. No one did anything with the dog other than defend themselves. That all changed one day back in the late 1980's.

Mike came home drunk one night and puked in his bed. He blamed it on the dog. He got away with it. Cambi went from being a dog to being a convenient excuse...and the butt of many jokes thereafter:

“Cambi put that Playboy under my mattress.”
“Cambi flunked the test. Not me.”
"When did that dog take up smoking?" Yes, even Carl appreciated Cambi at times. Like Father, like Son.

This went on and on in a way only immature high school friends can beat a joke to death.

Well, I am here to tell you, I was Jim’s Cambi. As best I can remember, there were about three things I did wrong at the Humberts that are worthy of even discussing. Spilling red wine in the back of Mrs. Humbert’s Audi is probably at the top of that list (on the floor, tan interior). And in that case, it was due to my choice of a wine skin over a bottle. The other two probably also involved underage consumption of alcoholic beverages. But if we had rinsed our cups, or run the dishwasher, even those instances would have gone without notice.

But I have a sneaking suspicion that Jim, Jr. used me as a convenient excuse on more than one occasion...well beyond these few, minor infractions.

Now I am happy to have helped out a friend. And I think, after all these years, you will agree that I've turned out ok. But Mr. & Mrs. Humbert, if you are reading this, more often than not, it WASN’T me!

We now return you to the baby blog.