Archive for October, 2005 Page 3 of 4



Pyramid party pooper.

When I dropped untitledson off at daycare this morning, I noticed something sticking out of his cubby. Lo and behold, it was an invitation to a “party.” The kind where you sit amongst total strangers, ooohhhing and aaahhhing over overpriced crap you neither want nor can give away to your old maid aunt (whom I am convinced is a non-practicing lesbian) at Christmas. And of course, you leave only after opening your wallet, paying $10 in shipping, and receiving the perfunctory ass-fucking.

Seeing that invitation in the cubby truly offended me. I’ve always considered this sacred ground, reserved only for daily poop reports, baggies of old breakfast cereal and the occasional noodle art. Perhaps this violation was my fault, for I had failed to slap up a “NO SOLICITATION” sign.

These pyramid-schemers, they do have some serious plums, though. On the invitation, it says “No formal presentation… just a fun ladies night out playing dress-up with jewelry.” That’s strange — I always thought a fun ladies night out required 7 mojitos, puking in one’s purse, and 4 a.m. pancakes at Perkins. But if I’m paying $30 for a pair of $7 earrings, I expect a little entertainment. In lieu of a lap dance, I’d like to see how those earrings can be fashioned into a bowie knife in case of emergency, or how the patented open-back design allows you to put them on using nothing but your toes and a stick of bubble gum.

Bellyflopping in the gene pool.

I love my husband’s family. Don’t get me wrong. But I cannot figure out how he managed to sop up half their cumulative IQ all by himself. These people are the most generous, sweet, god-fearing people you will ever meet — not that fearing god makes one sweet and generous. But sometimes I have to wonder if we’re not dealing with a touch of dain bramage.

The last time we were home, we made the mistake of busting out the board game “Cranium.” We would’ve had better luck making a mental connection if we had walked into a Wal-Mart and started speaking Latin to the door greeter.

There is this part of the game called “Humdinger” in which one person must hum a song, and the other team members must guess the title. Here is an abridged sampling of the numerous cards they had to return to the deck, because NO ONE on the team knew the songs: “Coming to America” by Neil Diamond, “Open Arms” by Journey, and “Twist and Shout” by the Beatles. I’m sorry, but shouldn’t you be forced to surrender your U.S. citizenship if you don’t know that first song? “They’re coming to America. TODAY!” I am ashamed to admit how many rush hours that little ditty has gotten me through. Put me behind the wheel of my earthfucker after a long day at the Evil Empire and I AM the fucking Jazz Singer.

To be honest, I am surprised the family lineage ever made it here from the old country. I mean, it would’ve required someone knowing how to get through the turnstiles on Ellis Island — a bona fide MENSA test for this lot. Now, if they would’ve had some church hymn Humdingers in the deck, they would’ve smoked our asses like a Swisher Sweet.

The one good part about playing board games with the whole fam damnly is that we get the opportunity to observe the intelligence (or lack thereof) of untitledhusband’s youngest brother’s girlfriend du jour. To qualify for the position, it appears that said girl’s jugs must be larger than her head (or at least a medium-sized honeydew). To their credit, these girls have all amazed me with one thing — their ability to remain standing upright regardless of the laws of physics. Ugh. For about one millisecond, I pity them. Then I remember that their monsterous milkers are accompanied by size 2 jeans.

But alas, it all evens out somewhere, people. All the brain power in the world cannot save me from the humiliation of having to rummage through the underwear table at Lane Bryant, looking for a pair that will both cover my ass and refrain from binding after a spin in the “hotter than hellfire” dryer cycle (the only heat setting impatient untitledhusband will use when doing laundry). For while I’m doing this, you can be sure that sista-girl is rockin’ out in Hot Topic, trying to decide between the leopard-print thong and the beaded halter top. Oh well. I know I could never sleep at night if I couldn’t hum the chorus to “Baker Street.”

The breakfast of champions.

“There’s nothing better in the morning than a nice piece of sausage.” Amen, sista.

Have you overheard anything shocking, amusing or just downright unfrickin’ believable at work lately? If so, share, comrades!

Dilemma decision.

I have been simply overwhelmed by the brute honesty of your answers. I almost didn’t even post yesterday’s dilemma, for I feared everyone would think me devoid of conscience. I totally expected to get flambeed to hell and back over this. But I now see I’m amongst my people. Blackhearts unite!

All kidding aside, your answers and insights have really helped me make sense of this conundrum, in a way I wasn’t expecting. The whole karma bank account thing is something I’m going to carry around in my mental toolbox for awhile. And yes, I do feel I have made a lot of karmic deposits. I volunteer, I put my share into that damnable fireman’s boot on Labor Day (good cause, but I dislike the bully factor), and I always let people into traffic, among things.

Me being a big old softie, I think it sprouts from my junior high days, when I was incessantly picked on for being fat. Junior high, man. Did anyone enjoy this pimple-pocked pressure cooker? Personally, I have fond memories of kids making boom-boom sounds when I’d walk by. Others simply wouldn’t talk to me. I went to every school dance for the simple joy of listening to Duran Duran on a different set of speakers. I even tried out for cheerleading, not knowing that fat trumps everything, including s-p-i-r-i-t. You emerge from this life experience either by becoming the Unabomber or Santa Claus. I’m guess I’m somewhere in between. Maybe a pissy elf with a knack for writing manifestos.

So yes, I have decided it is time to make a withdrawal from the Bank of Karma. And no, ma’am, I won’t be needing a receipt for this transaction.

The mother of all dilemmas.

I got a check in the mail yesterday for $2,000-some dollars. Made out to me. Holy shit, right? I was running up and down the hallway, waving my hands just like those ninnies on “The Price Is Right.” If all I had to do to cash that check was hop around on stage without a bra and rub up and down Bob Barker a few times, I would gladly do it. But it’s not that simple.

This check was sent to me, in my name, because my mother recently cashed out my life insurance policy. She had taken it out on me when I turned 18. Since I now have my own life insurance, there is no longer a need for it.

Technically, this money is unequivocally hers. But from a karma standpoint, she doesn’t DESERVE this money — and anyone who knows my mother would agree with this statement. Let me present the evidence:

  • She spends about $500 a month on clothes alone (she recently went four whole weeks without having to do a single load of laundry).
  • When she comes to visit, she doesn’t bring so much as a ball of lint for untitledson.
  • When she does buy the occasional outfit for untitledson, it is usually from the dollar store (not the luxury department stores she shops when buying for herself).
  • She rarely offers to pay for lunch when we’re together, and has even stiffed me a few times.
  • When I asked Mom if she would be interested in contributing to untitledson’s college fund, she said “no, that’s ok” (keep in mind she always told me the reason she didn’t pay for any of my college was that she never had the money).
  • When her granddaughter (my niece) was in the NICU for three months after birth and my brother and his wife were experiencing severe financial difficulties as a result, my mom told them all she could afford to give them was $50. (another relative — one who has always given my mother money when she needed it — generously stepped in to help them out)

This last incident disturbed me greatly. I am my father’s daughter (he was pretty giving), and I know he’d be turning in his grave over this one. The reason she has the money in the first place is because of his death. But it seems the more she has, the stingier she is. I mean, I would eat ramen noodles every day for lunch to be able to pay for art lessons for untitledson. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than giving to him. For most mothers and fathers, that’s the way it is.

So back to the dilemma — should I play karmic police and withhold the check? Should I cash it myself, perhaps put it in untitledson’s college fund? I’m almost positive she would never find out. In your heart of hearts, what would YOU do? Don’t tell me what you say you’d do — tell me what you’d really do. If you need further evidence to make your decision, click here and here.