Mjarc
More religious holiday cheer, straight outta Kankakee, Ill-A-Noise.
I won the bet over who Real Grandmother Number 2 would insult today -- $2 from my little brother. He always bets on himself, as he always forgets he's the youngest of the brood, and obviously the one least likely to ever get picked on. For the past three years, I'm the reigning "Who's the First To Get Insulted By Real Grandmother Number 2?" Champion. Years, with pertinent insults:
1999: "Are you still playing in those silly bands, wasting your parents time and money at school? Quit being a loser and shape up." Ding!
2000: "Look at this ..." tugs on the hair on my chinny-chin-chin "This looks absolutely awful, Marc. Shave it. You look ridiculous." Ding!
2001: "Oh, hi Marc. My God, you look like you've put on some weight. Maybe you should take it easy today. Hmm?" Ding!
I can't tell if the woman likes me and is just being difficult, or she doesn't like me at all and being real. Unfortunately, its more likely the latter. She's a mean one, Mr. Grinch. I feel bad for her, for the most part. She's been in and out of the hospital for the past few months or so. She hasn't a single friend in the entire world, as far as I can tell. Her twin brother, my greatuncle Pete, lives in New Jersey and never talks to her. She gives my entire family (and I mean entire -- running the gauntlet from the second cousins on in) shit for everything little thing we do. How can someone that shares my blood be so bitter, so jealous, and so selfish in every minute detail of their life? It's beyond me.
Luckily, my mother, her daughter, has set out with a life mission to never end up like Real Grandmother Number 2. If my mom ever flies off the handle unjustly, all we have to say is, "Alright, Grandma ____." and Mom gets the message. She'll usually just look at us and say, "Oh, now that's cold." It's terrible, but this is really what goes on. Using a relative as a constant threat of what can go wrong? What'll we think up next?
I do have to give myself credit for the lunch later in the day at Chili's. R.G.N.2 looks over and asks what I'm having. "Tofu on rice," I snap off, without hesitation. Point -- me. Ding!
In about twenty minutes we head to Real Grandmother Number 1's house (my favorite) for the traditional Christmas Eve with her, one real grandfather, one pair aunt & uncle, one pair cousin & husband. Presents, summer sausage, and people that are fatter than me. Happy religious holiday. Keep those candles lit for me, Roobin. Word.
More religious holiday cheer, straight outta Kankakee, Ill-A-Noise.
I won the bet over who Real Grandmother Number 2 would insult today -- $2 from my little brother. He always bets on himself, as he always forgets he's the youngest of the brood, and obviously the one least likely to ever get picked on. For the past three years, I'm the reigning "Who's the First To Get Insulted By Real Grandmother Number 2?" Champion. Years, with pertinent insults:
1999: "Are you still playing in those silly bands, wasting your parents time and money at school? Quit being a loser and shape up." Ding!
2000: "Look at this ..." tugs on the hair on my chinny-chin-chin "This looks absolutely awful, Marc. Shave it. You look ridiculous." Ding!
2001: "Oh, hi Marc. My God, you look like you've put on some weight. Maybe you should take it easy today. Hmm?" Ding!
I can't tell if the woman likes me and is just being difficult, or she doesn't like me at all and being real. Unfortunately, its more likely the latter. She's a mean one, Mr. Grinch. I feel bad for her, for the most part. She's been in and out of the hospital for the past few months or so. She hasn't a single friend in the entire world, as far as I can tell. Her twin brother, my greatuncle Pete, lives in New Jersey and never talks to her. She gives my entire family (and I mean entire -- running the gauntlet from the second cousins on in) shit for everything little thing we do. How can someone that shares my blood be so bitter, so jealous, and so selfish in every minute detail of their life? It's beyond me.
Luckily, my mother, her daughter, has set out with a life mission to never end up like Real Grandmother Number 2. If my mom ever flies off the handle unjustly, all we have to say is, "Alright, Grandma ____." and Mom gets the message. She'll usually just look at us and say, "Oh, now that's cold." It's terrible, but this is really what goes on. Using a relative as a constant threat of what can go wrong? What'll we think up next?
I do have to give myself credit for the lunch later in the day at Chili's. R.G.N.2 looks over and asks what I'm having. "Tofu on rice," I snap off, without hesitation. Point -- me. Ding!
In about twenty minutes we head to Real Grandmother Number 1's house (my favorite) for the traditional Christmas Eve with her, one real grandfather, one pair aunt & uncle, one pair cousin & husband. Presents, summer sausage, and people that are fatter than me. Happy religious holiday. Keep those candles lit for me, Roobin. Word.
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