A couple of months ago I am putting Lil b to bed and I start doing a random character.  For no real reason, the character that I jump into on this particular night is an old Jewish grandmother, or bubbe.  To become a bubbe, I hobble around his room like any elderly woman might while I talk about my day.  In my best Jewish old lady accent of course.  This is supposed to be a spur of the moment, one-off type  thing to ease him into bed one night and never mentioned again.

For whatever reason, the character resonates with Lil b and he starts to ask for “Boobie” the next night and the following night, and so on.  Now it’s to the point where I have to practically become this old broad every night when I put him to bed!  Don’t get me wrong, Boobie is great.  She tells stories about growing up in New York.  She tells Lil b all about her day at the beauty parlor, or the butcher shop and the choice cuts of meat…and how big they used to be compared to what you get now…and how everything is so expensive.  The best thing about Boobie is that she gives super wet, sloppy kisses, which I think is what stuck with Lil b in the first place.  (you perverts get those dirty thoughts of Boobie outta your head right this minute!…sick bastards)

This is all fine and good and only happens for a few minutes each night…no harm, right?  My ass…Since Boobie is now an official family member, I am strapped with the task of coming up with new material for her every friggin’ night.  I feel like one of those shitty standup comedians that travels the country telling the same jokes every night and then binge drinking himself to sleep in his budget motel room.  (the only embellishment there is the comedian part) Needless to say, playing Boobie gets old.  Especially on those nights where I have had a bad day and all I want to do is drink myself in to an autoerotic dream world.  You try getting off when you’ve been portraying a crotchety old Jewish lady…(Now I know what Howard Stern feels like…)

Needing a break from Boobie, I have had to come up with an acceptable substitute.  I sometimes become Slim Jim, the crazy cowboy that yells his own name every 30 seconds. I have a French chef character when it comes time to feed the kids.  They call him Chef Daddy and he snobbishly serves them processed foods for breakfast on the weekends.  There is “Ze German”.  He comes out rarely as he and Boobie don’t seem to get along all that well for some reason.  And finally, there is Frank The Tank, my personal favorite.

FTT is a fairly new character.  He talks in a Gomer Pyle voice, but acts like the Will Farrell character from Old School just after he does the beer bong.  Only, I take it a few steps further and I actually pin Lil b down on his bed and punch the life out of him.  (Ease up CPS dorks, I don’t hit him in the face where you could see the bruises…body blow!, body blow!)  The first time I did FTT, Lil b loved him.  I don’t know what happened, but the next time I broke into character Lil b was having none of ole Frank and he went into instant fit mode.  Me being me, or Frank being Frank, this only eggs me on to take it up a notch… to the point that Lil b is huddled in the corner of his room sucking his thumb and quietly rocking himself into a happy place.

It is about this time that Mommy rescues him and bans FTT from upstairs in an effort to keep Lil b from developing a few personalities of his own.  That being said, FTT still comes in very handy when I need to get Lil b to quiet down or get back into bed…All I have to do is fire up the ole tank and start the fist guns in motion and he squeals with delight…or terror…yes, it’s definitely terror as he sprints back to his room yelling that he hates Frank…silly kid…I am probably causing some kind of psychological damage…Guess I had better get my cane out and put on my grandma dress…my baby boy needs his “Boobie”.