"Your Way" My ASS

I had the worst fast food experience of my life last night. Due to the enormity of my mommy guilt at having ignored the children for the past 2 weeks, I decided to take them to the Burger King that's down the street from my house. They have this play area with an enormous train and these caboose-looking tables, and they really like going there, so off we went. My first hint of trouble came when I ended up having to park a solid 20 spots away from the front door...looking inside, it looked empty, so I was rather confused...but whatever. The kids had already seen the bright lights of flame broiled goodness, so there was no turning back.

We walked in to find an absolute ruckus at the front counter. There had to be 8 teenaged boys standing there, ordering food, shooting the breeze with those on duty...it became clear that they worked there, and it was their night off. Free whoppers, bitches! Guess that's why I couldn't get a parking space. I got up to the cashier and started ordering, when she suddenly stopped and turned to the crowd at the other end of the counter.

"GUYS. I CAN'T HEAR THE CUSTOMER. SHUT THE HELL UP."

The ruckus continued...

"HELLOOOOOO!!! KNOCK IT OFF. FUCK!"

My jaw dropped. She didn't bat an eye, kept right on tapping away like it never happened. I smiled and continued ordering. I earmuffed Youngest Child in case of another cashier outburst.

As if on cue, Youngest Child started whining for chocolate milk, which I promised him was forthcoming. The cashier handed us white milks and announced that chocolate was all gone, and the poor kid promptly delved into an emotional breakdown. I handed him a tissue to blow his nose while I filled up Oldest Child's cup with Hawaiian Punch. By this time, our tray was ready, and I noticed that my onion rings were actually french fries. I brought this to my friendly cashier's attention who, without a word, turned to grab an order of onion rings and literally dropped them on my tray.

"Uh, could I have some sauce please?"

This request was met by a sharp intake of breath and a roll of the eyes. She had to go out back, and was not pleased at the prospect. She took her sweet time as I continued to comfort Youngest Child, who was still wracked with sobs and mourning his lost chocolate milk. Again, sauce was dropped from a height of 2 feet from the counter.

We walked into the kiddie area, and Youngest Child, who had calmed a bit, started wailing again. The big train was GONE, leaving the caboose tables looking mighty dejected and lonely, but we were at a point of no return so we sat down and tried to make the best of it. As we settled in, we noticed that our ears were being assailed by Christmas music (it IS almost March, right?) being blared from the overhead speakers, literally twice as loud as it was in the normal seating area. The TV with cartoons was drowned out by some chick wailing about trees being cut down for the holidays. I was going to just deal with it until I noticed that I ended up with 2 hamburger kids meals and 1 chicken tender meal instead of the other way around. Middle Child opened his bag and started bawling when he saw this renegade burger, so I grabbed his bag and took him to the counter for his tenders.

The cashier, again, was not thrilled to see me. She turned, grabbed a box of tenders, and dropped them on the counter. Her manager was even standing there. "Maybe you could apologize for the mix up, Adrienne?" She walked out back without a word. While I was there, I asked the guy if he could turn down the Christmas music just a tad. He promised he'd get right on it.

As we were finishing up, this 16 year old kid wandered into the room. "Did you want the music turned down?" Uh, sure, but we're almost done at this point, so whatever. He walked back to the counter and started messing with knobs. The music got louder, and the air conditioning kicked on full blast, blowing directly onto our table. Youngest Child started crying...again. Middle Child put his coat on and shivered. I saw the kid walk away from the knobs, satisfied that he'd done his duty, so I knew we were screwed. We stuffed what was left of the kids' meals into the bags and ran out of there.

As we walked out, the BK off-duty hooligans all sped away in their respective vehicles, leaving 8 empty spots right up front. I gritted my teeth and kept walking to my own car, which was about 5 miles away. Youngest Child decided to jump into a snowbank and soaked himself right up to his butt. I have pretty much vowed never to go to Burker King ever again. That place sucks donkey balls.

Thank-You Letters

Dear Aunt C:

Thank you for torturing me this past week. Watching my Grampa die apparently wasn't hard enough, as you felt the need to nitpick my every reaction. I rubbed his foot and you told me I should stop because it was causing his leg to twitch a bit. You took off the whole morning on that last day, and you yelled at me when I called as we were waiting on you to discontinue life support. Fuck this, fuck that, blah blah blah...now I can't go to the bank and clean out Grampa's safe deposit box, fine, I'll fucking come back right now [click]. Thank you for remembering what was really important: his stuff. God knows we'd all try to take it from you if you didn't get to it first.

I was particularly moved by your "constructive criticism" of me the first time he stopped breathing. Remember? You told me it was my fault he didn't die right then because he wasn't going to move on if he was still hearing my voice. I looked upon him and cried after he was gone and you told me to knock it off. Every emotion I had, you critiqued. Thank you for being there to remind me that nothing I did was right. Next time somebody near and dear to me dies, I'll remember you and try to do better.

Rot in Hell,
K



Dear Aunt S:

Thank you for calling me while my Grampa was gasping for his last breaths to get directions to a good restaurant. I'm glad you ate so well while you were here...God knows you kept the local restaurants and liquor stores afloat with all of your patronage! Also, I wanted to say that starting a fight with Aunt C at the Chinese place and driving her to throw terriyaki at me was quite entertaining! Genius really, bravo...oh, and thank you for bitching behind everyone's back, and going on about how you'll be contesting the will. I don't know what I would have done without you.

Kiss Kiss,
K



Dear Mom:

Thanks for not showing up to your own father's wake, and leaving me to fill your place in the receiving line and explain to everyone why you weren't there. I didn't expect you to be there to support me, and I deeply appreciate you proving me right. I'm sure Grampa didn't mind, I mean he's already dead so who cares, right?

Wishing You Were Normal,
K


Dear Great Aunt L and Uncle J:

Thank you so much for bringing a level of sanity and grace to a situation where there was so little. I wished every day that our family could have been more like yours, and that Grampa could have had a marriage like yours instead of the craziness & infidelity he ended up with. I bet you don't make your kids go to a Chinese restaurant on Christmas Day. God bless.

Hoping You'll Adopt Me,
K



Dear Grampa:

I love you and miss you terribly, and I'm so sorry that we're all completely insane. We mean well. We're just...retarded. I sincerely hope you're in a better place in death, and not surrounded by crazy bitches as you were in life. Just know that I wanted better for you, even if I didn't have the power to make it right.

Love Always,
K

Goodbye

Love ya, Gramps.

Grampa

My Grampa had a heart attack on Friday, and is not expected to pull through. My aunts are all fighting, and we had a huge scene at a Chinese restaurant last night...which is strangely appropriate considering how many scenes we've had in such a setting over the years.

Anyway, they're probably pulling the plug on him tomorrow, so please keep him in your prayers. I just wish I didn't have to witness all of this petty bullshit when all I want to do is sit by him, hold his hand, and cry. What the fuck is wrong with people?

Still can't cook for shit

I was attempting to make Stove Top tonight...not even ON the stove top, mind you, I was taking the easy way out and using the microwave...and I was attempting to slice up the half stick of butter into the bowl when my hand slipped.

I managed to flip the bowl over, dump half the contents all over the counter and floor, and even get some of it into the cabinets under the sink (which were closed. ???) I covered both my arms (long sleeves today, of course) and even got some on the dog, who happened to be meandering by at the time.

Cooking sucks. I don't think I'm going to do it anymore.

Craftmatic? Not quite.

I've been going to see Grandma Hooters just about every night, as has most of the rest of my family. Most nights, the nurses are actively kicking us out at 8, insisting that Gram "needs her rest" when really Gram's roommate is sick of listening to us and needs her rest. I think my Dad hopes that if we're obnoxious enough as a whole, the nursing staff will give in and get Gram a private room...but we're in week 3 or 4, so I'm pretty sure we're wasting our efforts, but tell that to the large child who is my father.

To amuse himself this evening, Dad decided to play with Gram's hospital bed.

D: "Hey, how far does this thing go?"
G: "Goesprtyhi."
D: "Well, let's see." [presses UP button, Gram starts sitting up]
G: "Tom...stopit."
D: "The straighter you sit up, the better you'll swallow, Ma." [still pressing]
G: "Jeezummchristomcutheshit!" [now sitting at 90 degree angle]
D: "How far do the legs go?" [presses other UP button]
G: [looking alarmed] "ohshit."
D: [laughing] "Wow, look at that, it's just like those commercials!"
G: [unintelligible gurgling]
K: "Dad, cut the shit, she can't breathe."
D: "Oh she's fine. Hey Ma, don't you wanna find out how flexible you are?"
G: "notfuckinprezeltom!"
D: "What's that Ma?"
K: "SHE SAID SHE'S NOT A FUCKING PRETZEL."
D: [stops pressing]
G: "samwich...feelikesamwich..."
D: "What? You hungry Ma?"
G: "PUMEDOWNYOUSUMBITCH."
K: "GODDAMNIT DAD!"

My cousin finally intervened and put the bed back into a normal position once the nurse walked in. Gram's neighbor had pushed her call button, and the nurse went over to see what she needed.

"IT'S NOT FOR ME. THEY'RE TRUSSING THAT POOR LADY UP LIKE A THANKSGIVING TURKEY."

Something tells me she may be bunking up with someone else tomorrow.

Feel the love, people.

Grandma Hooters is currently in rehab and has improved. She is most likely permanently paralyzed on her left side, but she's feeding herself and her speech is better every day. We'll see how much functionality she gets back, but it's looking like nursing home city for her. She suffered a major setback a couple of weeks ago when her youngest son, Marty, died. He was mentally disabled (in state care) and couldn't bounce back from his latest bout with pneumonia. Needless to say, the month of January super sucked for our family.

My uncle Ed, her oldest son, is a bit of a whacko, and hasn't dealt well with all the recent events. He's turned to religion, which is interesting considering what a heathen he's been these last 50 years or so. He's at the local church nightly, getting stuff blessed, lighting candles, praying, reading Bible passages...then he goes home and rubs the giant Buddha he has sitting by his pool. I figure he's either confused or just trying to cover all angles. But anyway...

The day Marty died, he showed no emotion and basically walked out of the hospital without saying a word, which seriously worried my Dad. He called home to my aunt to see what Ed was doing:

D: "Eileen, what's he doing now?" [listens] "He's doing what??? Jesus Christ, keep an eye on him, something's not right." [hangs up]
K: "What?"
D: "He's pulling out the couches and vacuuming underneath."
K: [stares] "Are you shitting me?"
D: "Ed's never cleaned a day in his life. Something is seriously wrong with him."

Eileen called back a couple of hours later to inform us that Ed had pitched all the furniture out the front door because it was dirty. He was later seen praying to his Buddha in the backyard.

Every time he's at the rehab, he starts going on about stuff like how he lit 60 candles at the church the other day (2 bucks a pop, you do the math) and prayed for all us bastards even though we don't deserve it. He had a tenuous relationship with Gram long before all of this occurred, and lately it's just no better. They both like to stir up shit from the past, and it gets pretty uncomfortable for others in the room when they start going at it. Worse, Eddie can never understand a word she says.

E: "Ma, I gotta go to work."
G: "Figomheyoudoncamanway."
E: "Hey mumbles, speak up."
K: "She said 'Fine, go ahead, you don't care anyway'."
E: "How the hell do you know?"
K: "You get used to it after a while."
E: "What do you mean I don't care?"
G: "Youmdribyhosnevermmstpnevercad."
E: [looks at me]
K: [sighs] "You'd drive by the house, never stopped, never cared."
E: "THAT'S NOT TRUE, MA."
G: "Yaritismmedyousomubich."
K: "Yeah it is you son of a bitch."
E: "YOU WANNA BRING UP SHIT FROM THE PAST, MA?"
G: "Yehbringiton." [no translation required]
E: "You always loved Tom [K's Dad] better."
G: "Yoummkidyafadasass."
K: "You kissed your father's ass."
E: "WELL YOU WEREN'T KISSING MINE, THAT'S FOR DAMN SURE."
G: "Yurhatfu."
K: "You're hateful."
E: "YOU'VE GOT EVERYONE FOOLED INTO THINKING YOU'RE SOME SWEET OLD LADY."
K: "Ed, can you cut the shit? Come on..."
G: "Gofyerased."
E: [looks at me]
K: [holding in laughter] "She just told you to go fry your ass."

Grandma proceeded to flip him off with her good hand. He promptly stomped out of the room, yelling about all the candles he was going to light for her.

Later, my cousin showed up, and my uncle called him.

C: "Yeah, she's still awake, still pissed at you Dad."
E: [unintelligible yelling]
G: "Tellthasumbichtofyhisass."
C: "Gram says to fry your ass. Gram, are you flipping the bird?" [laughter]
E: [more unintelligible yelling, hangs up]
C: "Wow Gram, you got him worked up."


And she started laughing hysterically.

G: "GOOD!!!"


The first couple of weeks after Gram's stroke, everyone was all nice to each other, hugging and whatnot...I guess it doesn't take long for all that novelty to wear off.


Welcome back to fried asses and obscene gestures, people...welcome back.

A sign from God that I should never cook again.

The last couple of days that has been an unexplained smell in our kitchen/dining area. At first, we thought one of the kids had farted, but the hours of lingering quickly debunked that theory. Then we figured it was coming from the mudroom, stinky feet and such...but a sniffing mission blew that one out of the water as well. As we sat eating breakfast this morning, both of our noses wrinkled up and looking around, the Husband theorized that there could be a dead mouse behind the stove. This got me thinking...

During this past week, the Husband and I were kinda fighting, so we obviously weren't communicating as we usually do. Keep that in mind as you read on.

K: "A dead mouse would smell that bad? Really?"
H: "It could...we could pull the stove out and see."
K: "Wait a minute..."
H: "What?"
K: "You found that ground beef I left out the other day, right?"
H: "The pound in the fridge? Yeah, I used it last night for the sloppy joe's."
K: "No no...Wednesday night, I was making a casserole..."
H: "Uh huh..."
K: "And I was gonna use ground beef and changed my mind..."

I had discovered that I didn't have all the ingredients I needed, and switched to a chicken dish. The thawed ground beef had been sitting on the counter, but Youngest Child kept trying to stick his fingers in it, so I had quickly stuck it into a pan that had been on the counter. I didn't put the pans back into the oven at the end of the night, and left for work the next morning and forgot about it. When I got home, the pans were put away, so I assumed the Husband had found the ground beef, shaken his head at what a fucking airhead I am, and thrown it away.

H: "I never found any ground beef, K."
K: "WHAT???"

The husband walked over to the oven, pulled the big frying pan out of the oven (which had a lid on it), took the lid off...and found my ground beef.

He looked at me like I was completely insane and ran outside with it. He then came back in, sprayed everything down with Lysol, and again looked at me like I was insane.

K: [laughing hysterically]
H: "That's so fucking gross."
K: "Good thing I have tits huh? Makes me easier to put up with."
H: "No shit, huh?"


Sometimes I wonder how I became such a functional retard.