Dec

Mom the Lush

We’re not drinkers in our house. We never have been. The only time I buy alcohol is around the holidays so that I can bake with it and apparently the rest does get used somehow.

I buy a bottle of rum for the rum cake and a bottle of creme de menthe for creme de menthe cake for our annual holiday party but there is always half a bottle left after I’ve finished baking so I put it up in the cupboard and just leave it there because I know Mom will take care of it.

She’s never been a drinker in any way, shape, or form. There was a time in her life where she was working in her florist shop and seem to be spending more time at the florist than home. In those days she would wind down her day with a little sprinkle of creme de menthe on her vanilla ice cream. Then it got to be where there was less ice cream and more creme de menthe and Dad began monitoring her. You see, we come from a background that they believed alcohol was a sin. It’s different now of course. A glass of wine or a beer can be just fine but we’ve all just not taken it up so the family tradition lives on. But to my dad, especially back in the old days, felt that even a small glass was going to send you straight to the place where the sun doesn’t shine but you’ll need a strong sunscreen to make it through that imagined fiery put. Mom finally just stop having her creme de menthe on her ice cream because she just didn’t want to hear Dad gripe.

One year I had decided that after the rum cake was all gone that I would make a second one. I looked up in the cupboard and noticed that I didn’t have much rum OR creme de menthe left. Hmmmm…

So I decided to watch the bottles and see what happened. Maybe it evaporated or something of that sort.

The next day I checked the cupboard and some of the creme de menthe was gone. Hmmmm…

So I began a quiet stake out to find out who it was.

One night I was quietly sitting in the living room meditating with all the lights off and I hear a shuffle come down the hall. I remained as quiet as a mouse.
I see this little curly head walk by that is looking from side to side to see if anyone is up. She doesn’t notice me sitting in the chair. I don’t know how she didn’t notice because I was holding in the giggles but some were escaping.
She walked right over to the cupboard, pulled out the rum bottle, took a big ol’ swig, and then let out a ‘aaaaahhhhhhhh.’ She took one more gulp, wiped the top of the bottle with her arm, and put it back in the cupboard.
I lost it. I got to laughing so hard and blew my cover.

“OH MY GOSH!!! BETHIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING SITTING IN THE DARK? Are you spying on me?!!!”

I couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard. I got out the words, “It’s our little secret.” And continued to laugh.

“OH! Your mom is so bad. Your mom is a LUSH.” She put her hands over her face. At first I thought she was crying but on closer inspection she was laughing.
I came over to her and gave her a hug. She smelled of rum and her lilac perfume.
“Our little secret Mom.”

This happened years ago and every year on Christmas I make sure to buy a little extra rum and creme de menthe. I give her a bowl of ice cream and stick the bottle in front of her and Dad gives her ‘the look.’ She looks at me, looks at Dad, and then pours it all over her ice cream.

Dec

Grandma and her Stretchy Pants

Grandma: Enough! I’m not eating one more piece of fudge. My stretchy pants don’t even fit now.

Me: Really Mom? Right before the holidays you’re throwing in the towel?

Peanut: Grandma, I love fudge.

Grandma: Yep, that’s it. This eighty one year old body shouldn’t be eating the things I put into it.

Me: Then should I not make that rum cake that I always do?

Grandma: Now let’s not get funny!

Note to self: No fudge can be made but the big slab of rum cake that has more calories and fat than the fudge CAN be made.

Nov

Why Grandpa went Bald

We were all sitting around the table talking. Grandma commented on how beautiful Peanut’s hair was.

Grandma: Peanut, women would pay to have hair like yours. You’ve got such beautiful curls and color.

Peanut: Thank you Grandma.

Grandma: Guys are lucky, aren’t they? Us girls have to do all kinds of stuff to get our hair to behave. And all a guy has to do is wash his hair and go.

Grandpa: Oh?! You’re supposed to wash it?

Grandma: Yes, you smelly man.That explains why you’re bald; all these years you haven’t washed it so it rotted off.

Grandpa: I cleaned it from time to time when…

He chuckled and elbowed Grandma.

Grandpa: When I went swimmin’.

10 years ago Short URL Comments

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Nov

The Counselor, the Whiner, and the Tactless

We were all sitting around talking about what our mob names would be. Grandpa didn’t understand the game. Grandma understood but she didn’t want to say anything that would hurt someone’s feelings.

Lee: Okay, this is how you play: you pick out a name with ‘the’ in front of it that describes what you would consider that person’s prominent trait is. For example, I think Beth’s mob name would be (he thinks for a moment), I got it! Beth’s mob name would be ‘the Counselor.’

Everyone laughed and agreed.

Me: So I think Lee’s name would be…hmmmm…uh… (I start laughing) Lee’s mob name would be ‘the Whiner.’

We all uproariously laugh as Lee whines about it.

Our fourteen year old daughter knew she was next. You see, being the age she is, she can be a little clumsy. She is constantly running her big toe into things and if you’re a guy you don’t want to get to close to her when she is talking. She tends to swing her arms when she talks and they invariably hit a guy right where it counts. Grandma decides to get in on the game.

Grandma: I have the perfect name for Peanut.

Lee: Good, good! What do you think her mob name would be?

Grandma: Her mob name would be ‘the Nutcracker!’

Lee shot his soda pop out of his mouth and we all were on the floor rolling from laughter.

Grandpa: I don’t get it.

Grandma: You know, Peanut is always accidentally hitting people in the privates? So she would be ‘the Nutcracker.’ You get it now?

Grandpa: Not really…explain it to me.

Grandma: I’ll explain it to you in the room a little later.

Grandpa: Why not now?

Grandma rolls her eyes.

Grandma: You know what Grandpa’s name would be? Hey Vinny, here comes ‘the Tactless.’

Grandpa: Could you tell me why you would call her ‘the Nutcracker?!” I mean that makes me think of someone getting hit in the privates.

Grandma: That’s what I said.

Grandpa: You know, that reminds of a story from my childhood.

Grandma: Don’t tell that story.

Grandpa: The one where my friend got whacked in the privates on a camping trip…

Grandma: The Tactless strikes again.

Nov

Vamp me Wicked City Woman

Dad and Mom telling us what it’s like to get older.

Dad: When you’re young you tend to take for granted all that you are able to do.

Mom: Like walking.

Dad: Yeah, like walking from the bedroom to the bathroom in the middle of the night. When you’re young you don’t even have to get up to pee but when you get old you have to get up three or four times to pee. I can’t make it the bathroom. I have to keep a big bucket in my room for those late night pee runs.

Mom: You don’t need to let them know all the details Harold.

Dad: I’m just preparing them for their old age. Take hair for example; it will fall off the top of your head but grow in areas you never thought hair could grow in. Hairs coming out my ears and nose at a fast rate these days. For example…

Mom: That reminds me. Don’t let me forget to cut off the eyebrows that have grown on your nose when we get in the room.

Dad: See? So much hair in my nose that it looks like eyebrows.

Mom: And boobs, don’t get me started on the boobs.

Dad: I wanna hear about boobs.

Mom: You’re a pervert, ya know that?

Dad smiles.

Mom: See what happens? When you get older you lose all sense of tact. You say any and every thing that is on your mind. Close that trap, Harold. Don’t you say another word…

Dad: I’m your pervert.

Mom: And you say what you want anyway when you get old. You don’t care what anyone thinks.

Dad opens his mouth to say something else.

Mom: Not another word! Clam up and give me your shot.

Dad: Vamp me wicked city woman. That my Viagra?

Mom: Your insulin shot Sicko.

Oct

Fall Fatty Festivities and Big Elastic Pants

Mom came into the kitchen as I was baking up cookies and pie for birthdays. Mom looked utterly disgusted and I asked her what was wrong. She said, “It’s THAT time of year. The one that I say every year that I am NOT going to overindulge and then you make all these yummies which means that time has rolled around again. You know, from October to the end of December where I have to buy bigger stretchy pants.”

She looked at the cookies and said, “Give me one of those. Let the Fall fatty festivities and big elastic pants begin!”

11 years ago Short URL Comments

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Oct

Harmless Trick or Treat Pranks According to Grandpa

Grandpa: In our day we played all kinds of harmless tricks on Halloween.

Peanut: Like what, Grandpa?

Grandpa: Oh, the usual stuff; blowing up outhouses and stealing pumpkins so we could play trick or treat bowling.

Peanut: Trick or treat bowling?

Grandpa: You haven’t heard of trick or treat bowling before? You steal a pumpkin off a porch and then you bowl for trick or treaters on the sidewalk.

He smiles really big.

Grandpa: Good times, good times…

Peanut: Grandpa! That isn’t harmless at all! That’s downright mean.

Grandpa: Oh, no, everybody did it. We even got shot at a time or two but we were good boys.

Peanut: You’d be in jail if you did that nowadays, Grandpa.

Grandpa: You don’t know what harmless fun is, Peanut.

Peanut: I know it doesn’t include taking out someone’s toilet or breaking someone’s foot with a pumpkin.

Grandpa: My granddaughter’s a wimp.

Peanut: Thank goodness! At least I’m a wimp who isn’t in jail.

Grandma puts in her two cents: You’re a good girl, Peanut. Don’t listen to your crusty ol’ grandpa. It’s a wonder he is even alive.

Grandpa: I’m still living?

Grandpa begins to fiddle with the fake cardboard skeleton hands on the table. He folds down all the fingers but the middle one, shows it to Peanut, and laughs. Grandma rips it out of his hands.

Grandma: GRANDPA! Stop that! Poor Peanut is going to think you’re just a raunchy old man.

Peanut: Too late…

Oct

Dad’s Moth Filled Wallet

Dad: Your hair looks so beautiful, LaVerne. It’s so lush and curly.

Mom: Oh shut up…

Dad: I’m giving you a compliment. A genuine compliment and you tell me to shut up.

Mom: You only compliment my hair when it’s time for me to get a perm.

Dad: Is it that time again?

Mom: All right Bonzo! The gig is up. I saw you looking at my calendar to see if it was time for me to make an appointment.

Dad: Whatever do you mean, my love?

Dad looks guiltier than sin.

Mom: You just don’t want to shell out eighty five dollars for my perm.

Dad: EIGHTY FIVE DOLLARS! I could buy a new toupee with that kind of money.

Mom: I’m getting my hair done and that is that.

Dad: Eighty five dollars. I could buy puzzles with that money or go to the casino or…

Mom: I could buy rolls of duct tape with that money and keep your mouth duct taped for quite a long time.

Dad opens his wallet. I swear I can see moths fly out of it. It’s been that long since he’s opened it.

Dad: I’ve got one dollar.

Mom: And I have the debit card. You can keep your dollar.

Dad put the dollar back in his wallet and all the photos fall out in one big clump.

Mom: Looks like your photos have molded to the shape of your butt. Let me throw that out for you.

Dad: No, these are photos of the kids.

Mom: How can you tell? They are melted together and half their faces are gone.

Dad: I know what they look like. I like to remember our kids when they were little. I like to remember them when they listened to me and I could tell them their opinion. Now they are quite loud with their opinions and they usually don’t match mine. Even the cat has an opinion.

He puts the clump of photos back in his wallet.

Mom: Did I just see a photo of the cat in that clump?

Dad: No, no you didn’t.

Mom: You have a photo of the cat in your wallet?! Honestly…

Dad: He’s the only great grandchild that I will ever have.

Mom: You’re an old softy. I love you, ya know that? You may be a cheapskate and a stubborn cuss but you’re my cheapskate and stubborn cuss.

Dad: Does this mean you’re not going to get your hair done?

Mom: Dream on, Bastardo, dream on…

Oct

Grandma’s in the Halloween Costumes

Peanut and I had taken Grandma to town to run a few errands and when we got home we all sat down and had dinner together.

Grandma: Did you see the Halloween costumes in the back of the store?

Grandma brings her voice down to a loud whisper. The whole table can hear her.

Grandma: Did you see the ones for those kinds of girls?

Me: What kind of girls?

She whispers louder in her sweet grandma tone.

Grandma: You know, the girls that are sluts, Dear.

Grandma: Those costumes were just nasty.

Lee eggs her on.

Lee: What were they like?

Grandma: Tassels for the boobies and skimpy little shorts that wouldn’t even cover a baby’s bottom.

Grandpa: Doesn’t sound bad to me. You should have bought one for yourself.

Grandma: Hush up! You are one sick perverted old man. I would never wear tassels. They would hang down to my knees.

Lee: That does sound pretty raunchy. Was the costume red or black?

Grandma: Oh no, they were a pink color.

I get in on the game.

Me: Well they couldn’t have been for those kind of girls because those kinds of girls usually only wear black or red.

Grandma got on her serious face.

Grandma: Really? In my day the sluts of the world wore pink. I believe the proper name for the shade of pink they wore was…let me think a minute. Oh, yes. Now I remember. We called it ‘Titty Pink.’

Oct

Tassels for the Boobies

I had taken Mom to town to run a few errands and when we got home we all sat down and had dinner together.

Mom: Did you see the Halloween costumes in the back of the store?

Me: I did, Mom. They had some pretty amazing costumes, didn’t they?

Mom: Well, the ones I saw were quite outrageous.

Mom brings her voice down to a loud whisper. The whole table can hear her.

Mom: Did you see the ones for those kinds of girls?

Me: What kind of girls Mom?

She whispers louder in her sweet grandma tone.

Mom: You know, the girls that are sluts, Dear.

Lee starts choking on his soda.

Mom: Those costumes were just nasty.

Lee eggs her on.

Lee: What were they like?

Mom: Tassels for the boobies and skimpy little shorts that wouldn’t even cover a baby’s bottom.

Dad: Doesn’t sound bad to me. You should have bought one for yourself.

Mom: Hush up! You are one sick perverted old man. I would never wear tassels. They would hang down to my knees.

Lee: That does sound pretty raunchy. Was the costume red or black?

Mom: Oh no, they were a pink color.

I get in on the game.

Me: Well they couldn’t have been for those kind of girls, Mom because those kinds of girls usually only wear black or red.

Mom got on her serious face.

Mom: Really? In my day the sluts of the world wore pink. I believe the proper name for the shade of pink they wore was…let me think a minute. Oh, yes. Now I remember. We called it ‘Titty Pink.’

Beth's Imperfectly Perfect Life

Tag Archives: family humor