Introducing Rudy Kelly's Home For Wayward Teams: Die Hard

I'm bored of doing the usual "Compare players on your team to characters from Deadliest Catch" seasn recaps, so I'm going to do something a little different this off-season.  Introducing Rudy Kelly's Home for Wayward Teams, a safe haven for those of us without a playoff team to cheer.  Posts will be about everything but hockey and will generally concern whatever I feel like writing about.  Hopefully it'll keep you guys interested and keep the Sharks and Ducks fans among us from killing one another.  I'm also working on getting other bloggers to contribute, but no one likes me so we'll see how that goes.

 

Here's the first post.  It's about the time I watched Die Hard.

 

Parents always wring their hands about letting their kids see "adult" movies and I've never understood why.  My parents pretty much let me watch whatever I wanted and I turned out fine. (OK, bad example.)  One cool story though: I went with my dad and my brother to Vegas (I think) when I was about 4 years old.  While we were there, my dad let us watch Die Hard in our hotel room.  He sat me down and patiently explained that I was going to hear a bad word in the movie but it was a word I should never use, especially around polite company.  I'm sure I nodded my head very seriously because I didn't know much as a 4-year old but I knew a movie called Die Hard was going to be awesome and I wanted to get my dad to shut up.  We watched the movie and that was that.  I didn't say it around my mom or shout, "Yippee-Kay-Yea, mother fucker!" before I went down the slide at school, so my dad was pretty much in the clear.

A couple weeks after this, we went to church.  For Christmas.  (Can you see where this is going?)  We're sitting there, listening to the part where the lowly shepherd jumps off the top of the nativity as the wise men's helicopter gets shot down by King Herod's henchman (wait, that's Die Hard again) and for some reason, I get that urge.  It's the urge only 4 year-olds get, that urge to completely ruin someone's life by yelling out, "Fuck!"  Not a whisper, not in a regular voice, I fucking yelled out, "Fuck!" in a crowded church on Christmas.  My mom yanked me out of the pew and was furious, first with me and then with my dad.  I'm sure he was thinking that all he wanted to do was see the cool new movie with the guy from Moonlighting and his idiot kid ruined everything.  All I was thinking was that 1) I should never say "Fuck" around my mom, and 2) I should say it around everyone else as much as possible.

 

Postscript: You would have thought that my dad would have learned his lesson, but it didn't stop him from telling me the Goofy/Mickey joke* when I was 6.  My dad is awesome.

*Mickey Mouse is having a nasty divorce with Minnie Mouse. Mickey spoke to the judge about the separation. The judge said, "I'm sorry Mickey, but I can't legally separate you two on the grounds that Minnie is mentally insane..."  Mickey replied, "I didn't say she was mentally insane, I said that she's fucking goofy!"

 

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