The Ron Thread

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
281

More Ron, more Ron.

It’s been a long time. I can’t wait for another Ron story. I’m desperate, so I’ll have to post my own “Ron” story that happened a while back.

Pseudo-Ron (not his real name) was just some distant relation (second cousin by marriage or something) and apparently a lecturer on astronomy at some college. As there was an astronomy conference in our city he managed to get one of those “kin-of-a-kin” kinda invitations to stay at our home for the week long conference. My dad picked him up at the airport on a warm summer day, everyone introduced themselves and exchanged pleasantries, but after a few minutes and many puzzled looks it became obvious. This man stunk….badly.

But hey! It was a long trip, long line ups, our car wasn’t air conditioned, so who could be expected to be at their “freshest” ? My mother (ever the gracious host) suggested that everyone get ready for dinner and this would allow our guest to “freshen up”. Well, he showed up with another shirt but just as smelly as before.

Each day got worse, the house was beginning to get a fetid odor usually associated with high school gym locker rooms. My mom tried her best…honestly. She offered to wash his clothes, suggested a dip in our pool, maybe a quick shower before bed (cause “you look really tired and sweaty”. Our odoriferous friend seemed oblivious to my all of mother’s hints and entreaties. The rest of the family just took to eating breakfast and dinner out on the patio.

On the last day, it was raining badly so we were stuck eating inside. My mom made soup and something. We were all just counting down the minutes to his departure with the kind of serene feeling that comes with knowing that the nasal suffering would soon end. My mom spoons out the soup and our guest leans over the bowl and starts to sniff inquisitively. He looks up and sees us watching him intently and says “Oh, I’m sorry…I’m sure it looks a little strange, but it’s just that I have a very keen sense of smell”. We all wanted to burst out laughing, but managed polite smiles instead, except my dad who still had to drive him to the airport.

Not a true “Ron” story, but still a story about people oblivious to their negative impact on the lives of others. It’s my first post, so please be kind.

282

When I was 8 months pregnant with TheKid, her father and I decided it was about time to maybe be a family. He knew a guy whose other roommates were moving out, the rent was cheap, and we were broke. The deal was that the main floor of the house was ours. The upstairs bedroom and basement bathroom was his. He would buy his own food and use his own dishes. He would not intude in our lives.

And thus JimRon became our roommate.

We arrived at the house to find JimRon sitting on the front stoop, drinking a beer amidst a pile of empty cans. At 8am. He had sat outside for 7 hours, just drinking and peeing until we showed up. He locked his keys in the house, didn’t have a spare, and (heaven forbid) the landlord fixed the second bedrooms’ window the day before and he couldn’t shimmy through it. We unlocked the door - and he just sat there. He needed to finish his beer before we could begin the joyous process of moving in. As we were moving furniture and unpacking, he was supervising, drinking Jack & Coke one after another.

He tried to get a friend to move my bed up into his room “She said she would take mine and I could have this one”. Euw, no. When we were unpacking the bathroom he stood in the doorway critiquing our personal items- wrong soap, Crest is an evil company, too many washclothes. This from a man who took a shower once a week, worked in a hot kitchen, had the greasiest hair I have ever seen, and a beard only a homeless troglodyte would envy. I won’t even discuss his fingernails.

So we’re all moved in, things are going swimmingly. He did forget to tell us the spare bedroom is where he and the previous tenants locked up their dogs until we opened the door and WHAM dog piss and Glade air frsheners. He felt it wasn’t his responsibility to clean the room, so instead he bought a ton of air fresheners and tossed them in the room. We couldn’t set up TheKids room until two days before she was born as it took that long to tear the carpet out, strip the floors, paint, and repaint. I went into labor within an hour of tearing the last bit of masking tape down.

After TheKid was born, he became very weird. If I left a bottle in the sink he would complain it was contaminating everything in the kitchen. Throwing a diaper in the bathroom garbage was causing him insomnia (keep in mind he wasn’t to use our bathroom, he had his own). Our being there was cramping his style, because before we showed up he was a real Casanova (only if she was blind and slow). He lost his drivers’ license years prior and would whine about how privileged we were as I had a car. Then he would sigh deeply and announce how he was going to walk allll the way to work. It was three blocks away. He asked to use my car on numerous occasions, and when I said no he said it was because I was jealous of him having a life. He was a cook at Applebee’s. He went to work, got drunk, stumbled home, slept. Repeat for all but Fridays when he showered. Yes, JimRon, I’m jealous.

All good things come to an end, and my first split with TheKid’s dad was not pretty. It concluded with all of his belongings on the front lawn and a police officer supervising the pick up. JimRon was not happy that our issues intruded on his life. Three days later I received a call from the phone company. Did I know that my phone bill was over $700? NO, I did NOT. I asked JimRon WTF? His response was that our domestic issues caused him so much stress that he had to start calling porn lines. $700 worth of porn calls in THREE days.

I never understood how our break up led to HIS sudden need for porn, but whatever. I immediately removed all the phones from the house braved entering his hovel to disconnect the phone jack. When I left in the morning, the phone came with. I plugged one in the living room when I came home. I had a month of the lease left and hell if I was going to budge.

One night he came trodding downstairs in all his nasty stanky ready for work glory and informed me that I was a horrible person for not only kicking out Emo(ex), but that I was terribly cruel to him for not leaving a phone “in case of emergency”. Define emergency. “You know, a man emergency”.

I was never so happy to move out of a residence. Last I heard he was working at a low-end motel restaurant that catered to truckers and lot bunnies. He was living with a lot bunny and was proud of her line of work.

283

I’ve been fortunate to have been spared many Rons in my life, but it just occurred to me that I have known a RussRon.

RussRon wasn’t stupid; to the contrary, he was highly intelligent. I knew him in college in the early 1970s, where he rapidly became well-known for being totally and permanently clueless. Like so many other Rons here, he was notoriously poor at bathing; fortunately, he’d use deodorant, but after a while his hair would get so whiffy and the sheets on his bed so gray that we’d have to remind him to bathe and change his sheets. He was, fortunately, very obedient.

The incident that I think best illustrates RussRon’s unutterable strangeness occurred one chilly evening when, as was the wont in those days, a number of people decided to go streaking across the main square in town. I wasn’t there, but heard about it the next day. Apparently RussRon was one of the participants, and had, oddly, worn a shirt and sweater while streaking.

So being curious, I asked him about it. I mean, why wear a shirt and sweater to streak, when you’re still letting your goodies hang out there for all the world to see? And his answer, that I will remember to my dying day, delivered in a truly horrified tone: “I wouldn’t go naked!”

Shortly thereafter he started explaining to us how he’d realized his calculus textbook was in actuality a history of the 20th century, and started pointing out such things as the Kennedy assassination amongst the problems. He then went off and spent six months on a happy ward somewhere, and came back considerably less strange, to everyone’s sorrow. I was very fond of him in a kind of maternal way, and also because, frankly, everyone needs someone like that in their life. But I doubt I will ever meet another person quite as clueless as RussRon!

284

I know, I know - you thought it was dead. But a true Ron never dies.

Today’s Contribution:

(So, to refresh - Ron and my sister had broken up but now she was suddenly in posession of his cat. Which I had “forced” her to lie to me about )

Ron knew he was on my list - and not in a good way. Although I couldn’t stop my sister from dating him, I didn’t have to hang around him myself.

My sister came over to my house for the day, but Ron was picking her up that evening for a date (a grand affair consisting of dinner at Burger King and a DVD, I’m sure) and he wanted to come and pick her up at my house.

Not comfortable with the thought of him in my new home, I suggested that the backroads were tricky, and that I would bring her down to the local shopping plaza close to my house instead. (Incidentally, the same plaza where she used to sit for hours waiting for her roommate to finish working. . .)

My sister relayed that he was excited to show me his “new ride.” I gave her a small smile but said nothing - already dreading the experience.

His “ride” was as I had imagined - a dinged-up black camaro type thing complete with matte-finished bondo paint and ruby red rust. He sat in it, waiting for us, his gold-rimmed shades hiding his watery blue eyes and his arm resting on the opened window ledge.

He saw us and got out after giving us sufficient time to presumably admire his ride. He came over to my side of the car and tapped on the glass - expecting me to roll down my window in the crisp winter air. Realizing he wouldn’t go away and nauseous at his pants standing so close to my face, I reluctantly rolled it down.

He immediately leaned in - thrusting his head in to my car - his eyes making me glad I wore a turtleneck that day.

“Whaddya think?” he asked proudly.

I thought many things, but didn’t feel it very christian to repeat them at the moment.

“I bet it was a beauty in its day.” I said instead.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m just trying to decide now whether to register and insure it now or spend the money on repainting it. Cause it’s a sweet ride and will be so cherry with a new coat of paint.”

“It’s not insured?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I used my ex-wife’s old license plate and the renewal tag on that is only a few months old so the cops won’t care.”

I looked at my sister at this point. “Would you like me to take you home instead?”

She laughed at me. “It’ll be fine, sis - we’ve been riding around in it for a few weeks and nothing has happened. Besides - he’s going to get it insured - he promised.”

So I watched as she got in his car and drove away, feeling like a bad parent of some sort.

Later that night, the car wouldn’t start. A friendly cop stopped by to see if he could help - and then impounded the “sweet ride.” Ron couldn’t pay the impound fee and several tickets associated with it and last I knew, his “cherry ride” was still there.

Evidently, cops do care.

285

That might be the best one yet. :smiley:

286

Every single time you have me thinking that the Ron stories can’t be topped…Whammo! you hit us with another homeRon.

287

Thanks for not letting this die. I love me some more Ron.

288

You all are so kind. I’ve known these stories for so long now - I always wonder if they are as funny to others as they are to me.

And Hockey Monkey, “homeRon” makes me think of a commercial.

*"You’ve read about him on Straight Dope, you’ve seen him in your dreams, now you can have him all to yourself - for only 19.99! Get your homeRon today!

"But wait there’s more! If you call in the next 30 minutes you’ll get: his sexy Burger King uniform! His gold-rimmed sunglasses! His partially-used pack of Magnum condoms! His fluffy white kitty named after the porn star! Now how much would you pay? It’s still only $19.99!!

“But wait - how about if we include his cherry bondo-covered Camaro for FREE? Deals like this don’t come by ever day! Act now before they are all gone!”

[legal disclaimer: $19.99 does not include shipping & handling or insurance & registration for bondo-covered Camaro. Impound and ticket processing fees billed separately. Camaro would be trademarked but they would prefer not to be connected in any way, shape or form with homeRon so spoof it all you like. Not legal US tender. Cause Ron never liked it tender. ]*

289

Effing hilarious. How did I miss this thread?

290

Late to the party, but loving the Ron stories. :smiley:

As I was reading through them, the obvious choice of a collective noun for Rons popped into my mind:

A 'stache of Rons. :smiley:

Apologies if somebody suggested it already further upthread–I skimmed a bit. But it had to be said. :slight_smile:

291

What star was the cat named for?

292

It must have been Ron Jeremy, of course.

293

I’ve shared your genuine Ron thread with many people that I knew would see the humor, and it reminded me of what Lenny Bruce said. We can only laugh at something if we are familiar with it; unless we’ve been exposed to a similar person, or experience, we can’t relate to anything funny about him/it. Frankly, my sides are still aching from the last go-round, and the fresh paint vs. registration & insurance conundrum made me spew my cold beverage out both nostrils :eek:

If anyone doesn’t find your tellings etrodinarily funny, melodyharmonius, I can only imagine they are entirely humorless, or deeply entrenched in their own Ronified world.

294

I’m certain melodyharmonius (great moniker btw) said the cat’s name was “Chrissy”, but I’m not up on the adult film stars enough to put a last name with it. Maybe it was one of those one-name actresses I’ve never heard of…

295

The RON THREAD is back! Woo hoo! celebrates

I thought it was gone forever. :frowning: Thank you for reviving it melodyharmonius!

296

I once dated a Ron (his real name) for a few months. This guy had some genuinely charming qualities, and one not-so-charming: he was obsessed with the price of things, and buying everything at a discount.

Me: “Oh, is that a new shirt you’re wearing?”
Ron: “Yes, it was marked down, from $80 to $50.”

Me: “What’s that book you’re reading?”
Ron: “Oh, something I picked up at Half-Price Books, for $15. It was originally $30.” (as if I couldn’t do the math)

He once had me wait in his apartment while he did some food shopping. When he returned, he had to go through all the groceries, telling me precisely how much he saved on each item.

When we broke up, I sent him a list of all my expenses while we were dating. I’m sure he appreciated it.

297

I second the thanks. And… HEY, TRIPLER!! You promised us some stories all the way back last year, 'member?

298

Ron cheer! Ron cheer!

299

I declare that the winner. Although all of them were great! :cool:

Yup, it was Chrissy. I have no idea which Chrissy. I would have been able to tell you if it was Jenna or Marilyn or Shannon . . .but I don’t have a Chrissy in my 'stache of Porn Stars memory . . .

I love when humor causes coffee-spewage. It’s the highest form of flattery, I think. Truly.

and

awwww - you make me grin.

Thanks for bearing with me. I’ve tried very hard to remember them all - sometimes it takes a bit.

mental note: stop doing that to Dewey

:smiley: :smiley:

300

This is a secondhand story, courtesy of my sister. What makes it even funnier is that my sister is not the world’s most clued in person (she’s basically Luna Lovegood, if you can imagine the Harry Potter character with anger management issues), but even she immediately saw through this guy.

So, my sister “Luna” was riding on the bus and this guy sits down next to her. He asks her if it’s the right bus to get to some certain place in town, and she says it is. He (needlessly) explains that he’s unfamiliar with the city, since he’s actually from Ireland.

IIRC, Luna said this guy not only didn’t have an Irish accent, he wasn’t even trying to FAKE one.

IrishRon (O’Ron?) continued with the story of why he’d left Ireland. He’d lost his job there.

His job in the Irish Secret Service.

IrishRon said he’d been all through Secret Service training, but had been thrown out at the very end because he was unwilling to swear that he’d kill to protect the President. He just couldn’t do it, he couldn’t be a killer!

At this point Luna says “So, who IS the President of Ireland these days?”

IrishRon acts like he doesn’t understand her. She repeats her question. He still doesn’t understand. Finally he apologizes and says he doesn’t speak English very well. That was the end of the conversation.

When I first heard this story I speculated that maybe IrishRon had Ireland confused with non-English-speaking Iceland, which probably would have been a better country to BS about.