That's, um, quite the random expletive, Perkins.
My mom just called to vent: Last night when the Neptune Society staff came to pick up my Cappy's body, Tania (his -- wife, I guess? They never married because he thought her son was a deadbeat and he didn't want the son to have any legal claim on his estate, but they lived together for over a decade and he introduced her as his wife [though he told his children that his ashes shouldn't go to Tania but should be buried with his first wife's, my grandmother's {which is a very ill-constructed phrase, I know, but anyhow...}])...
Anyhow, when the NS came to pick his body up, Tania made a fuss over the shirt he was wearing and said not to burn it or throw it out, she wanted it back. They noted this down and said the shirt would be waiting for pick-up along with his ashes on Monday afternoon. My mom said she'd be happy to drop the shirt off after she picked up the ashes. Tania looked flustered and said Oh, no rush, she didn't need it back right away, it was just a silly thing, she didn't want my mom to go to any trouble on her account, and added, "I might not even be around on Monday anyway."
On retreat? Quietly mourning? Dead of grief? "Ohhh... I might have a date."
Rationally, I know she's of a generation that believes you must be paired up or you don't quite exist, and that fear of letting others see your deepest emotions often lead people to say incredibly inappropriate things, and that she's had several strokes in the last year and has less conversational control and judgment than she used to, and that for as long as people have been dying there's been a tradition of snarking through sorrow and whistling past the graveyard. I know all this, and I know that I'm getting the story second-hand and who knows how it actually played out.
But irrationally? I seriously want to drive over there and cold-cock her. His body was IN THE NEXT ROOM, in the bedroom at the foot of the bed they'd shared for a decade. The fuck?
So not rational right now. PLATYPUS.
Oddly, that makes me feel a bit better. PLATYPUS. PLATYPUS.
Rationally, I know she's of a generation that believes you must be paired up or you don't quite exist,
Not just that, but there's a strong ethos of having companionship as you age. That undoubtedly plays into it.
(Not that I'm condoning her swiftness of rebound OR the way in which she expressed it. Because, wow.)
That's, um, quite the random expletive, Perkins.
It makes sense in connection with Deena's post, which was just a couple before that.
I like it as a random expletive though, and I agree with you on Nadia.
And apparently Cosmo believes I'm "coyly sexy" and need to "Acknowledge men more often on dates and hint at certain moves that bring you pleasure in bed." Which would require going on dates, of course, if only so I could say, "Oh, there you are!" at various points in the evening. But how does one "hint" a "certain moves"?
Oh JZ, how very strange people can be. I'm sorry.
PLATYPUS!
***
Kara is now telling me that I'm too old for toys and must give her the bird (Gonzo). She's not getting Gonzo. I was adult about everything else, but there must be a line. I am NOT too old for toys.
hinting at certain moves:
"Don't you find animals so sexy? I love the big cats, that fierce way they have. If I ever stick my ass in the air, you'll know I'm just a great big cat."
But how does one "hint" a "certain moves"?
If you go for ice cream, observe the way he licks his ice cream cone, and brightly announce, "Look at that! You MUST be good at cunnilingus! Am I right? I bet I'm right. GOOD for you! Hey....good for ME!"
Other than that, I got nothing.
Apparently, I am coyly sexy too.
Which makes no sense, as sexy I may be, but coy? I am so not coy. I am flirtatious, but not coy. I'm too fucking blunt to be coy.
Argh. I have a wedding to get ready for, but I have to wait for my friend Fran to come by and pick me up: my brakes are GONE -- metal on metal -- and so I have to get a ride to pick up hair dye, and to get a pair of shoes to go with my long, embroidered skirt. I think I'm going to Old Navy -- I'm looking for embroidered or sequined slippers, for cheap -- I have to wear flats with this skirt.
I'm excited about this wedding, though; it's two good friends, and all my friends will be there and there will be loads of champagne and wine, and a jazz band, and it's in airplane museum hangar at the tiny downtown airport.
Send me cute tipsy single boy-ma.
PLATYPUS!
Owen's new favorite show is The Koala Brothers (and mine, too, I admit). There's a pair of koalas (the brothers), an emu, a platypus, an echidna, a crocodile, a kangaroo, an oppossum and a wombat. Very cute with the accents.
I have seven hours until seven people are coming over so that DH can teach them how to play Texas Hold 'Em. My house isn't even close to being ready. Gah.
Not here. Nope, off getting the pet smell out of the house.
