Okay, I am randomly talking on text and email and stuff tonight and my theme of the evening is, "I want someone to knock on my door with a pizza. And beer. And orgasms."
Pizza Hut dude just knocked on my door.
Whoa.
Said dude had diet Pepsi and it wasn't my pizza and it wasn't a porn flick so no orgasms either. But still!
I am hungry. I was tempted to pay for the pizza and take it but who really wants that kind of bad neighbor karma?
Me: Well, as a person who still wants to fuck you, I'm having the same issue.
Oof.
Goodness. Cass's brain is sassy tonight.
Me: Well, as a person who still wants to fuck you, I'm having the same issue.
This is painfully familiar.
tsk. Cass, clearly the pizza boy had no porn because HE was supposed to be bringing the orgasms....
Oof
Yeah. When she responded "Well, i was gonna say that but I thought it might be vulgar", I was like goddamnit....
Edit: Sucks, don't it Gris? Would've been easier (if slightly more immediately painful) if she hadn't responded that way too....
Goodness. Cass's brain is sassy tonight.
Cass's brain is *starving*...
Okay, and maybe sassy. But *hungry* too.
clearly the pizza boy had no porn because HE was supposed to be bringing the orgasms....
Well this was my theoretical plan but the Diet Pepsi threw me.
Hey, Pete, I'm to tell you you Have a Fan.
My nephew, it seems, speaks of you often now.
this may be totally tl;dr, but I had...I don't even know what to call it back home. The funeral and fact of the death were upsetting, but the stuff surrounding was magical.
Morgan Family Funeral Volume 3, Chapter One
So. Got back from funeral weekend this evening around 7. It was a strange mix of sad and good.
We got down to my grandparents trailer around 3 in the morning TBD (the baby daddy) was deee-runk. K and cherub were up and we chatted for a while and played with cherub (who is acting totally 2).
K made me and Mr. Jane sleep in our grandparents' old bed. It freaked me out at first, but then I decided that that bed was good luck for marriages. We still slept on top of the covers. I poked through some of the drawers and stuff. I found Grandandy's old pocket knife, sharpened to a thin, sharp blade, his never-used lighter from when he was president of the Louisiana Peace Officers' Association and Mimi's engagement ring (which we polished and gave to an aunt the next day) I'm going to ask my ex-cop uncle if he doesn't mind if I have the lighter. There were also all kinds of pictures. My favorite was a crazy looking bearded guy with a violin on his knee from probably the mid to late 1800's. He's apparently my great- great grandfather.
My grandparents' turned out to be an unfortunate place for 4 adults plus baby to try to get dressed. We missed any sort of food until after the funeral in Many. The service was mostly stunned silence. It's hard for it to be just about Johnny. I think with Mimi, we just figured she'd go after Grandandy did. Johnny just really does feel like the beginning of the end, not really of the family, but of the generation that K and I grew up with. My aunts and uncles were really tight and that meant that we grew up with a lot of family around all the time.
Johnny was buried next to Mimi and Grandandy so I got to get a look at their grave marker. It has hands clasped (as they did every night before bed) and all their kids names on the back.
K and I went to see my uncle's widow, and got lost on the way over (everything is at least 30 minutes away) and found craxy Redneck land. It's like it had everything an actual town would have, but rednecked up. So there's an airport that's basically a strip of sad concrete behind a chain link fence. A computer store that's a hand painted sign that says "used computers" in front of somebody's house. A smattering of bars with names like "The Lost Cajun" a gas station that is also apparently the redneck version of Starbucks since it has a sandwich board sign near the (dirt) road, advertising cappucinos. There's even a "lounge and motel" and a good part of town-which is literally right across the street from the bad part of town.
Mr. Jane and TBD went and made groceries at the Big Star "in town" so we grilled out and hung with K's dad, brother and step-mom, our uncle and our dads' cousin's daughter's 2 boys. Then we all went across the street to dads' cousin's house (Borita is what we call her and her husband) and played pool in the game room they added onto the trailer. My cousin whose dad it was that died was there with his step-daughter's daughter. The men were mightily impressed with Mr. Jane's mad pool skillz.
We laughed and drank and smoked and told family stories until it dwindled to just me and Mr. Jane. Borita went to bed and told us we could go swimming in the above ground pool. Which we did until we couldn't keep our eyes open from the drinking, chlorine and tired.
Sunday we got up and K and I went through some old pictures and stuff. I found pictures of my grandfather's family, old pictures of my family. I was told to keep any pictures of me or dad or mom, as well as any of Mimi or Grandandy I wanted. I have one of me and our pet raccoon and one of Grandandy in his fishing gear by the Morgan's Mountain sign and his Old Fisherman's Crossing sign.
My uncle brought over some pictures of Dad and the coaching staff at Ole Miss, and oddly, his first draft of his resume from 1985. I got the book (continued...)
( continues...) of family recipes I wanted (which will be chapter 3) I also found an envelope with Mimi's family history and tree that goes back as far as 1846 when one of her great-great-great grandmothers came over from Germany (chapter 2)
Hey, Pete, I'm to tell you you Have a Fan.
My nephew, it seems, speaks of you often now.
Aroo? In what way?
Can I ask how on earth this whole thing came up?
Go on, indulge me with the full anecdote...
The Mayor! Dancing! OMG!
DJ, I intend to read your story in the morning - I am very tired, and though it's definitely not tl;dr, it's a bit pl;wrt (pretty long; will read tomorrow).
