Living With The Bam Fam

Killer mooches like a pro

Being back in Mississippi has brought about some ugly truths. I am officially homeless. I have been a traveling nurse for so long, living in corporate, furnished apartments, I have had no need for furniture or a permanent home. I don't own a single object that will not fit inside my Jeep Wrangler; except my Jeep Wrangler, and attempting to place a Jeep Wrangler within itself creates all kinds of folds in the space-time continuum that I can not properly explain with my neanderthalic understanding of basic math.

I would normally sleep at my parent's house with my sister's house as a safety flop house, but my sister, brother-in-law, and their baby have temporarily sought refuge at my parent's house whilst they build a new, shiny, deluxe version of a house. Add my little brother, who is also residing in my parent's house, and I am suddenly, and unceremoniously without an abode.

Enter the Bam. I have mentioned Bam in the past. He is a frequent travel companion, and often I worm my way into his "family" vacations. Bam graciously offered up his spare bedroom, he actually offered up his half of his bed, but his lovely wife would notice if the lump sleeping next to her doubles in size, and body hair density.

I love the Bam family. They are quirky, funny and they never ask questions about all the strange animal noises that emit from my room during the night.

Upon entering the Bam Fam Pad I was quickly set upon by the Lady of the House. She wanted to make sure I knew the rules of my continued stay. I am given full run of the house with no limits or expectations, save two.

1. No blogging naked
2. No blogging about family secrets or idiosyncrasies.

The Bam Fam Matriarch apparently is a daily lurker here. She keeps close tabs on Killer Rants and does not wish to see the family wash portrayed for all the world to see. I assured her that I am a man of integrity and outstanding moral fiber.

As I sit here in the Bam Fam computer room, stunned by the frostiness of the shiny, pink plastic chair against my bare buttocks, I can not help but be tempted by the intense desire to retell the strange effects sleeping pills have on Mrs. Bam or the frequency of Bam getting his ass kicked by his 14 year old daughter; alas, I refrain.

The Mississippi nights can be temperamental and the roaming wild life is intimidating. Until I have another secure place to lay my weary head I will be forced to hold my tongue and keep the dirty little secrets to myself. Although, I must add...me NOT blog naked?!? NEVER!