Thank you Grandpa, for everything

Grandpa’s dead now… Well, since Christmas Eve he’s been dead for two years and I'm just now beginning to accept it. I hope I go out like he did - in my sleep. I know, boring as hell, but if it’s on Christmas Day at least I can haunt my descendants a little (the ones who remember me) on what is supposed to be a happy holiday. Christmas Day, Eve - what’s the difference? He couldn’t have planned it any better than that. In fact, without even knowing it he may have been trying to steal the baby Jesus’ thunder. And how can you knock a guy for inadvertently trying? Of course that’s speculation but it’s true he wasn’t a big fan of the manger, or to be more specific, anything religious or even slightly Catholic-y.

Yes, dying in my sleep in my seventies on Christmas Day is exactly how I want to go. Once you hit 80, how can life be any good? A typical day for me at that age would probably consist of coughing up blood, writing a few crappy lines about the “good ole days” right after swallowing a bunch of pills, cursing out the neighbor kids, inspecting my poop and then sleeping for 16 hours. Whoopee!

Grandpa went out right. It was the right time and the right way. He was getting too old to keep driving, let alone keep kayaking the rapids. All he did was worry me the last six years of his life anyway. When thinking about my own children and grandchildren I think six years of stress would be sufficient.

But really, as great as it seems I wouldn’t have to die on Christmas Day. I’d settle for any holiday just as long as I have a few grandkids around to make my own children feel guilty for not spending enough time with me when I was an old maid. Just because they’ll have their own lives is no excuse for the inevitable neglect. Someone has to call them out, even if it’s in advance. Guilt is what makes a family go round. And if anyone should feel guilty, how is that my fault? We all have our share to carry. Some of us just choose to ignore it.

So as I was saying four paragraphs ago, Grandpa’s dead now, but in an attempt to find some kind of wisdom to pass on to my sons (who are turning 17, 16 and 15 this year) I’ve been looking back at his life. I think it’s my own way of dealing with the fact that I can’t call him up and ask, “So what the heck do I tell these hormonal punks?”

As it turns out, the life he lived is a gold mine of valuable information. Here is a tidbit of what I’ve told my sons: Be careful who you help out. Rescue a dog and you’ll have a faithful friend. Rescue a hooker and she’ll stab you in the back. The beautiful ones you always seem to lose.

Okay, that last line is actually from a Prince song but that doesn’t make it any less true. And this has nothing to do with Grandpa (or Prince) but I’ve also warned, “You’ll need a f**king army or a crazy bitch to stop one. Don’t call me!”

I guess in a few years they’ll already have learned this stuff on their own. Who ever listens to their parents, anyway? Oh... No… They’d better not call me!

Finally, I don’t want to get mushy or anything and you probably can’t read this but I’ll always love and miss you Grandpa. Thanks for everything.

How to deal with A-Holes and have a Happy Thanksgiving

Whether your own family likes to give you hell or you’re bravely facing the in-laws, YOU are what really matters on this special day of stuffing face. And in a perfect world, we ALL have an absolutely wonderful holiday with everyone we love and nothing goes wrong and we all shit rainbows. Well, get over it! Last time I checked, my shit wasn’t multi-colored (it’s been a while). So if your heart fills with dread this time of year and you’re forced to deal with assholes, you have options. Depending on your personality there are a few ways you can go about this without technically killing anyone.

Option 1: Be the happy-go-lucky one.



This means you put your happy face on, no matter what kind of mine field you’re walking into. Use humor, silliness or stupidity to your advantage. No matter how awful your jokes are, as long as you’re smiling at least one person is guaranteed to not want to kill you. Befriend them! Unless they’re super self-absorbed or a total basket case they’ll defend you when the piranhas attack, even if your partner pretends you don’t exist. And you will be completely invisible to your partner at a family gathering at least once during your relationship, so it’s important to have some comrades around. You know, for when you offend those people without a sense of humor, or those who think they’re better than everyone else… Or the elderly. And you won’t walk out of there without offending someone, you goofy clown.

Option 2: Play deaf and dumb.



Maybe you can’t smile because the sun didn’t come out, someone is dragging you out by your heels, or you like to torture happy people. If you’re not feeling good vibes that’s perfectly OK. When the assholes come ‘round, play dumb. Block out anything that doesn’t bring you comfort or joy. And most importantly, keep your mouth shut! If you can’t resist interaction, do like the chimps do and make obvious gestures. When you are asked a question, shrug. When you’ve had enough and are on the verge of walking out, throw your hand up as if to say, Step off, bitch! There’s also a finger that works for that. On second thought, just stick to the deaf and dumb routine. And it works in any situation where you don’t want confrontation, you spineless mute.

Option 3: Be the biggest asshole.



Why take shit from any turkey? You’ve been a pushover far too long now. You’re sick of the headaches brought on every year by certain ass hats you wish you didn’t have to see, hear, touch or smell. And worst of all, you’ve been holding back. Well it’s time, my friend. It is finally your time. Use this gathering as an opportunity to tell everyone exactly how you feel about them. Hold back no more! Summon your inner-beast. Give them what they’re asking for. But take heed - to be successful you must be strong and loving toward yourself. In a pinch, a strong and loving companion will do. When the dust settles, you’ll be feared. You’ll be hated. Someone will want to kill you. But you are made of steel. Now, proudly and boldly go where the few who aren’t premenstrual dare. You can do this, you coldhearted asshole.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot… Happy Thanksgiving!

We could change Election Day to a month earlier

You’ll see what I mean by end of this post. But first a little background to my dad’s worst Halloween ever, which was just last Friday. He has a shed in his back yard that (except for a few days a year) is stuffed full of Halloween crap. But for years all he had in there was a dummy wearing a hockey mask in an electrocution chair (death row style) that’s rigged to look pretty awesome when it’s plugged in. After construction he and his friends nicknamed it “Sparky” for obvious reasons. When Dad was still in his “single and hating most women because of my mother” years, he and his friends took Sparky over to a family member’s house. And others would contribute, making it the most kickassingest Halloween display on that side of town. Then Dad got remarried, and his wife turned out to be the kind of one-woman-show who puts many to shame when it comes to making holidays spectacular. Well, almost everyone.


So she says.

And from that Halloween on, Dad and my step mom teamed up to make their property really freaky. Their house and yard became the most happenin’ place in the neighborhood. But this year they were more than slightly annoyed with some of the ghouls who stopped by. And after hearing all about it, here's what I now believe are the worst types of visitors (from least horrible to most horrific)…

The super obnoxious teenaged thief

This was not your average obnoxious 13-yr-old male teen who, for example, might tell you he’s taking your daughter to his grandmother’s for cookies when they plan on watching a movie together at his house. No, this is the super obnoxious bastard who tells you exactly where they are going while he’s got his arm around her (and she’s wearing a mini-skirt and giggling way too much). The ‘thief’ part is obvious. He’s going to steal her virginity. In this case Dad would’ve done the honorable thing and send him packing with his underwear hanging out of his pants, then tell his daughter to, “Put some damn clothes on.”

Anyway, this super obnoxious jerk arrived as you might expect, with all manners out the window. He didn’t even say “Trick or treat” before slamming his entire hand into the candy bowl in an attempt to take all he could. Well that wasn’t going to fly. Dad grabbed his hand and forced the punk to drop it all. My hope is this spoiled piece of butt waste will remember this and learn something, but I have an odd feeling he’ll be in kiddy jail soon. I wonder if that’s anything like the adult-jail variety? No? Damn.

The future gold digger

This was a 16-yr-old girl who was not only NOT dressed up as anything but a slut (like those weren’t her normal clothes) but she was also hauling two large gunny sacks like she had just robbed the nearest bank. One was already full of candy, the other half-full. To witness greed of this magnitude blew my dad’s mind, and under the special circumstances he was at a loss for what to do. You see, there’s a rule most men follow called the ‘girl rule’, which means whether they know it or not (usually not) they automatically treat females differently than males. This is always to the female’s advantage. My dad belongs to the group of men who follow the rule without realizing it. It’s why for years my brothers secretly hated us (but mostly our other two sisters).

As you can imagine, the future gold-digging bitch with her sacks full of candy took from the bowl with no shame, and got away without reprimand. Her punishment will come in a few years when she’s forced to pick up Viagra at the pharmacy for her 80-year-old husband and then (as if that weren’t bad enough) it dawns on her he is expecting some action. Either that or finds out after his death she was never mentioned in the will. I personally hope it’s the latter. And that it comes after ten years of picking up Viagra and suffering through the trauma that follows while waiting for him to bite the dust.

The political fanatics

These are the absolute worst kind of Halloween House crashers. At least with the drunks you can make up an address a mile or two away and tell them there’s lots of booze and ‘easy young booty’ there and get rid of them quickly. When I say ‘political fanatics’ I’m not talking about your typical supporters just leaving a few words to mull over before moving on to the next house. I’m talking about the nuts who see the most popular house in the neighborhood as the one to haunt. They stick around and become grade A repellent. When the decent people come along and hear them arguing they run away and make a mental note not to drop by this crazy place ever again. And this story was the one that surprised me. You’d think people would take a break from their political views and enjoy visiting their neighbor’s awesomely decorated yard? Doesn’t that sound better than wasting time trying to shove your ideals (and all sides have them) down another guy’s throat and pissing off everyone in the vicinity (including the host)?

Dad didn’t want to be rude as these were adults and not kids who might actually be taught a lesson. But he sure thought it was rude how these grown idiots decided to make his yard the place to debate. This was his yard, dammit! He eventually said, “Fock it,” and figured it was much less depressing giving candy to the greedy and impolite goblins and witches.

My holiday was just fine since I do very little decorating. Last year I made fun of the teens who came by trick-or-treating. I asked them if they liked being out with all of the little kids, and mentioned it was so sad they didn’t have a date for the Halloween dance. Needless to say, I didn't see them this year. Hillary Clinton once said, “It takes a village to kick a kid’s ass.” So true.

My favorite holiday

Yes! It’s finally here. The day we got serious about getting the King’s redcoats off “our” property.

“Taxes?! We don’t need no stinking taxes!”

We sure told him…

I’ve pretty much covered the reasons why I love the 4th of July and other stuff I like about summer, so what else can I do? Well I should clarify that although our line-up of performers leaves much to be desired, there is one who I hear is worth seeing. Amy is a friend and the neighbors say she’s a good singer. I got to know her and her kids when she lived on my block for a couple of years. But I had no idea she was singing last 4th of July or I would’ve made a point to see her (we went on the 3rd instead). She moved back home to another town in Montana this spring, so I’m glad she’s come back for at least a couple of days. To sum her up I’ll share a short story. My oldest daughter (who just turned 9 yesterday) has been to Amy’s house many times to play with her children, so she has heard her sing. She picked up a People magazine sometime this past winter (I buy it for the crosswords) and pointed at the totally fake photo on the cover (they really overdo those touch ups). “Mom, who is that?” she asked.

“It’s Britney Spears. She sings that song, ‘Hit me baby’… blah, blah, blah…”

“Oh! I know that song. She’s not a very good singer. Amy sings way better than her.”

“What about Sheryl Crow? She sings that song ‘I wanna soak up the’… blah, blah, blah…”

“Amy’s way better than her too.”

“That’s good to know…”

I like her already. So today I’m going to stop by and enjoy her performance. Then I’ll get really drunk and light fireworks. I hope I don’t hurt anyone…