Posts Tagged humor
tax season spring! May is crammed with holidays, birthdays and weddings. Hint: Mother’s Day, which is bizarrely close to Cinco de Mayo when even white people drink tequila to celebrate something…um, regarding Mexico. I’ve been running a million miles an hour to prepare for DFWWWCon this weekend and after a week beating up the poor flashbacks, I figured it was time for something fun. And nothing lightens the mood like death :D.
I’ve recently hit 40, which means most of my mail consists of flyers for AARP, discounts on hearing aids and prepaid funerals. Yay. Nothing to make a woman still feel young and sexy like a prepaid FUNERAL.
My family is pretty strange when it comes to the subject of “death.” And not like anyone is, per se, “normal” about death, but my family takes weird clean OFF “The Munster Family Scale” and lands us somewhere into the domain of a cross between Rob Zombie and Monty Python.
“The Zombie-Python Scale”?
Likely, this laissez faire attitude stems from a number of primary causes (beyond the obvious answer “mental illness”). One? Occupational. Mom was a nurse and came from a medical/military family. Dad? All soldiers and farmers.
Yeah, talk about gallows humor.
The second factor? Genetic. I come from Vikings, and science has “proven” there is a genome embedded in our DNA that demands that, upon expiration, our bodies must be placed on a wooden ship in the middle of an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet, then piled in gold, pushed out on the water and set on fire.
Fire, fire, heh heh. Heh heh. Fire.
Sadly, I have yet to find a local government official who will grant me a permit to be set afloat in my cousin Randy’s bass boat into Benbrook Lake then shot with leftover fireworks. Just kidding. Not about the permit, but the leftover fireworks part.
We’re TEXANS and there NO SUCH THING as “leftover fireworks.”
Anyway, when I was in the fifth grade, my teacher died, which really sucked, not just because my teacher died, but that it was the WRONG teacher. MY teacher, Mrs. Emmet, was awesome. The Demonic Embodiment of Science Education I had to spend an hour a day with, however, DID NOT die. I think it was because she was feasting slowly on the souls of fifth-grade children…
…and the guinea pigs near her desk that kept dying under strange circumstances (which were never fully investigated).
No, Demon Teacher lived, and is probably still alive today because she likely possesses a painting that ages in her stead. AWESOME Teacher is the one who had the heart attack (and DEMON Teacher looked strangely younger the next day).
But I digress…
The school, being confused and benevolent, brought in a grief counselor. Though, looking back, I think the grief counselor was the same dude wielding a leaf-blower earlier that school year. Grief Counselor told us to go home and discuss the subject of death with our parents then write a paper.
THANKS. Thank you for scarring me even further for LIFE.
So, I go home and ask my mom how she wants us to handle her passing on. Her answer? Taxidermy. She wanted to be made into something useful, like a lamp. She was even gracious enough to allow my brother and I to share her. I could take Creepy-Mom-Lamp for six months and brother could have her the other six months.
Yeah, right on that, Mom.
My Dad? He wanted to be cremated then his ashes strapped to a rocket and spread in space, an idea which everyone thought was sheer lunacy until Gene Roddenberry made it “cool.”
And I imagine the only reason CPS wasn’t called when I turned in my paper was because it WAS the 1980s. This was back in a time when it was permissible to banish your kids who wouldn’t stop running through KMart to go sit in a 110-degree station wagon and fight over a single Slurpee.
Fast-forward to 1999 and my father passes away. Since NASA and I weren’t exactly close and their security people already knew what I looked like, the rocket idea was out of the question. This meant Dad’s ashes went on a high shelf in my closet until I could make another plan. Then one day, years later, I’m all cleaning out my closet.
WTH is that blue box? I don’t remember putting that….*reaches and box falls*
OH HOLY HELL!
Yes, it was my father. In…my…shoes.
You CAN’T MAKE THIS STUFF UP, PEOPLE!
I had to vacuum up my father, and he’s now laid to rest with cremated flip-slops, cat fur, dust bunnies one of my favorite earrings, and I hope that makes him happy after being a smart@$$ about that “being blown up in space” crap.
And it is now 2014 and Mom is still intent on the whole “taxidermy” idea, though I’ve informed her that I’m going to have her stuffed in the squatting position so she can water my front garden. Strangely, that threat hasn’t bothered her enough to deviate from Taxidermy Funeral Course.
I’m happy I’ve broken the Cycle of Weird, though. My husband is Clean-Cut-Boy-Scout-Air-Force-Military and he wants to be buried in a graveyard with a tombstone where we can go talk to him and bring flowers and chocolate offerings like NORMAL PEOPLE.
Me? I want to be cremated and made into a diamond so my son has a ready-made engagement ring for his beloved. How could a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law be ANY closer? THAT is family (and being frugal—Hey, “waste not, want, not”). It’s also a great excuse to gain some extra weight. A skinny dead mother-in-law is good for little more than a tacky nose ring, which might impress some young Waffle House waitress from the trailer park, but not a gal suitable for MY boy.
But a mom-in-law with some MEAT? I might make a nice 2 carat solitaire. Not large enough to catch a Kardashian gold-digger, but big enough to impress a young lady with more than a G.E.D.
So, yes, I want to be made into a diamond (princess cut, of course), but NOT before my consciousness is uploaded into a microchip and implanted in Hubby’s head…so I can keep annoying him for eternity.
You know, *rolls eyes* NORMAL :D.
Okay, yes maybe I’ve gone off the reservation with this post (not the first or last time), but the whole “made into a gemstone” idea seems better than taking up space in a grave…that is later claimed by imminent domain and then the city builds something super-depressing over you like a Baby Gap.
***This is why all Baby Gaps are haunted, btw. It’s “science.” Don’t argue***
Then there is the made into a tree thing, which is a close second choice, but in Texas? With OUR weather? That’s just DELAYED CREMATION.
What are your thoughts? Well, maybe you don’t want to share those, unless you have some cooler ideas. Not “cooler” ideas, though cryogenics holds promise *rubs chin contemplatively*.
I LOVE hearing from you!
To prove it and show my love, for the month of MAY, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly. I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).
I will announce April’s winner after waking from the conference coma early next week.
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Ah, summer and Fourth of July. I have the best family in the world, but all of them had kids before I did. This means The Spawn has a lot of cousins who are all older. This is great in that they get to enjoy him (and lots of babysitters at family get-togethers), but it probably means they will scar him for life just like my older cousins did to me.
Fourth of July was a time when all my family came together and my older cousins
had an opportunity to psychologically scar me for life babysat me. When I was 5, my cousins let me watch Jaws and instilled powerful hydrophobia that endures to this day.
They also let me watch Friday the 13th at age 10, ruining freshwater for me as well. Basically, if it ain’t chlorinated? I’m not getting in it. Expert angler Jeremy Wade from River Monsters has only reinforced that people who swim in anything other than the hotel pool are just asking to be part of the food chain.
I suppose my cousins did me a favor in that, when we went to the beach? My parents never had to worry I’d drown in anything deeper than an extra large coconut snow cone. I was perfectly content to sit in the surf and build sand castles. When at the lake? Yeah. I’ll stand on the dock with the shotgun and shoot Water Moccassins collecting near the dock and YOU
MORONS GUYS can go waterski.
I recall one trip to Florida and my family
forced invited me to go clamming in the Indian River, which consists of brackish water. I pleaded with them to believe me that there could be sharks and they laughed me off. It’s a river. Sharks aren’t in rivers.
HA! Twenty-five years later my theory was proven correct on Shark Week. BULL SHARKS LOVE brackish water and are invading deeper into fresh water. Australia has quite a problem with bull sharks in their canals. I’m shocked I’m even here to tell this story. Good thing I was a skinny kid and didn’t resemble a tasty manatee.
Probably just gave a few of you hydrophobia. You can thank me later for saving your LIFE.
Over the years, I’ve pretty much turned into a human feline. Unless bathing? I don’t like getting wet.
So have fun on your jet-skis and with your snorkels. I will miss you
when if you get eaten.
I’ll be hanging out on dry land, grilling meat like a good Texan should. We’ll hang out by my brother’s pool and let the new generation of older cousins warp The Spawn even further than I have (though not sure that’s possible). We will set off silly little fireworks in the driveway. Well…my brother and husband will. I prefer to be a spectator. I need all my fingers (especially the middle one for dealing with AT&T).
Knowing my family, we’ll talk about history, our nation’s founding. Since I know many of you are from other countries, I’ve taken the “liberty” (bada-bump-snare) of finding you a quick reference that’s as accurate as possible. Forget what the history books tell you, THIS is how The American Revolution REALLY went down:
So did you have older cousins who warped you for life? Did Jaws give you hydrophobia? Did you have another movie that gave you another phobia? We won’t even talk about Poltergeist and how I view clowns. What do you like to do on the holidays? How do you celebrate Independence Day?
I love hearing from you!
To prove it and show my love, for the month of July, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly.
NOTE: My prior two books are no longer for sale, but I am updating them and will re-release. My new book, Rise of the Machines–Human Authors in a Digital World is NOW AVAILABLE.
I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).
Over my cold but still tired. Will try to announce winners tomorrow, but will have them by Monday latest.
And also, winners have a limited time to claim the prize, because what’s happening is there are actually quite a few people who never claim the critique, so I never know if the spam folder ate it or to look for it and then people miss out. I will also give my corporate e-mail to insure we connect and I will only have a week to return the 20 page edit.
At the end of July I will pick a winner for the monthly prize. Good luck!