Christmas Cheer

Well tonight is Christmas Eve, and my 24 year old family tradition of hanging out was rescheduled due to "inconvenience"- which is ridiculous to me- but anyway, it was decided that we would instead hang out this past Sunday. I should clarify- it was decided weeks ago that today would be inconvenient, so we planned to hold the gathering in advance of Christmas Eve. If it were possible for my family to decide the day of an event that it should have been held in the past, and agree to pretend as if it had happened, then we would probably all be much happier people. Anyway, the event, as it happened, was fine, seemed normal- but one thing did happen that really made me look forward to our big, extended family get together tomorrow.

I think it's funny to say things to my brothers and parents that maybe (definitely) shouldn't be said. I hadn't been to see my parents in about a month, so my Dad was harassing me and asking me what I'd been doing. I said "You know me, blowing random dudes." Now- this normally wouldn't be a surprising or offensive answer, but since our extended family was around, my Mom felt the need to loudly chastise me by raising her voice and saying my full name. "Jennifer. JEAN. BLOOMER."

I accepted her response because she wants my family to think she's raised a nice, mature young woman. They all know I'm a weirdo, but whatever helps her sleep at night. The thing about my Mom that always gets me is that she tries to put on a facade of normalcy for my family- but she says the most fucked up shit in such a matter-of-fact way that they have to know she's a punisher. This has never happened in such a clear way as it did Sunday night.

We were all sitting around, enjoying a very delicious lasagna dinner (which I enjoyed thoroughly) when the subject of my Uncle's new found position within the Catholic Church was brought up for discussion. Of course, he wasn't present, but my Grandma told us all that he was now an Usher. Everyone in my family has an opinion, but mostly my Aunt's husband and Mom. They both started discussing the Catholic Church, and the donations Ushers apparently ask for. I have no idea about any of this, because the most experience I have with Catholicism is lying about having been confirmed in order to be my cousin's confirmation sponsor a few years back... whenever that old pope died. ANYWAY, everyone was chiming in and complaining when my Mom said "I'm not going to donate money to the church so they can RAPE OUR LITTLE BOYS".

UUUUUUHHHHHHHHH. Awkward! She said it so nonchalantly... I laughed pretty hard.

I can't believe I got scolded for blow jobs but she dropped the child rape bomb right in the middle of our delicious meal!

Totally weird. Hopefully she does more of that stuff tomorrow!

Christmas Cheer

So I was hanging out with my Grandma the other day while she was opening her Christmas cards. I usually hate Christmas cards, because once you start sending them you're fucked and have to send them to everyone you've ever known for the rest of your life or run the risk of falling into the "Oh... I didn't get a card from _____ this year." zone (which is worse than death in my family)- but there was one in the bunch that really stood out so I thought I'd write about it.

First of all, the front of the card featured my boy Scooby, which I can back 100%. He was in a box with a Santa hat on looking amazing. The card itself came from my Grandma's former co-worker, Emmett, and although I never knew Emmett I was always a fan of any story featuring his name, so that was also great.

What truly made the card, however, was part of the inscription. The first couple of lines were typical "I went golfing this year, I am trying to keep warm" old people stuff, but the rest of the card read as follows:

"Judy Brown died last week. She choked on food sample at Costco.

Celebrate your Christmas with happiness.

Love Ya,

Emmett."

Ummmm... I don't know for sure, but I think a friend dying warrants a phone call. Emmett is my kind of guy for sure. Inappropriate.

Thanks Plow Man

I would just like to post a public THANK YOU to the lion of a man who did me the kind service of plowing my car in the parking lot at work. I realize I was out of the office for about three minutes, and that in the plowing universe three minutes is enough time to clear off an entire Wal-Mart Parking lot and father three children- but I think maybe he could have waited the five minutes I had posted on the door to ask me to move my car.

Maybe he knew there was nothing I'd rather do than use an ice scraper to dig my car out in the subzero temperatures. I think when you look at my face, I seem like the kind of girl who loves to dig cars out of giant piles of compacted snow. He probably caught a glimpse of me and said, "Merry Christmas Sweetheart" and then kindly took all the snow he could possibly gather and nestled it up as close as possible to my tires.

This will be the fourth or fifth time in three days my car will have been stuck in the snow, so I'm more or less a professional in these situations. I find the best way to get your car out of the snow is to use all of the force humanly possible and attack the snow like an animal or someone rescuing a (presumably worthwhile) person from an avalanche. This involves furious stabbing with an ice scraper and furious digging with your own hands. If you can get generally furious with the snow you will win. Yes, you will somehow get snow down your shirt and freeze your boobs but it's worth it because you get to drive your car until it gets stuck in some other wayward snow bank, where you will be tested by the elements once again.

Moral of the Story: There is nothing better than being plowed in by a guy who looks like he probably stole beer from Ratt's dressing room.