To Wed? Or Not, Instead?

Dear Adam Powers,

I just got off the phone with my lovely Grandma.

The first thing she said when she realized who she was talking to was, “I gotta get off my CELL PHONE and git on tha REGULA’ phone I cain’t HEAR YA.”

She does not have a cell phone. She thinks her cordless phone is a cell phone.

The next thing she said was, before any sort of greeting, was, “DO YA HAVE A BOYFREN?”

No, Grandma. The answer has been “No” for years.

“HOWZABOUT CHOICH?”

“Choich” means “church,” in her lovely Southern Louisiana accent, and she wants to know if I have found one in Norf Carolina yet.

No, Grandma. Choich is a place to compare clothing.

She proceeded to tell me all about my cousins and their babies and husbands, which I recognize as a thinly veiled attempt to make me feel guilty. I am the oldest unmarried, childless female in my family, and everyone is baffled as to why I am having such a hard time finding a rich dude to knock me up and make me the thrilled kept woman they know I’d love to one day be. I caught the bouquet at my cousin’s wedding five years ago, and they have not forgotten. I didn’t mean to catch it. I was trying to swat it away from me in a panic. It was aimed for my face.

My extended family’s collective relationship track record is less than inspiring. My Uncle Pat, Grandma’s son, is my favorite.

I remember he bought a Dodge Neon years ago, and he called all his family members and told us about the fabulous view he had from the windshield. “I mean, I really made a good purchase. Worth every penny,” he told us. How lucky was he to have bought a car that would allow him such great visual interaction with the highway vista?

Uncle Pat has been married five times. Want the rundown?

1. Suzen: He knocked her up when she was 15. They were married for six months. Suzen died a few years later in a house fire. Thank god she didn’t survive, because she would have gone to jail for arson and attempted murder. She was trying to burn down the house so she could kill her boyfriend, Smiley. Smiley wasn’t even home.

2. Rosemary Mosby was next. She was the alcoholic daughter of a Mississippi millionaire. Miss Mosby had a bowling alley in her house. They were married for seven months, and then my uncle left her which prompted her to overdose with a quickness.

3. Doris was the half Chinese alcoholic lesbian who married Pat so she could breed. They were actually married for five years. And yes, they bred.

4. Crystal. Oh, Crystal. Another five year marriage. I actually met this one. Crystal was an overweight Merry Maid with a weird face rash thanks to an Ajax mishap. Crystal had a habit of “entertaining” all of the (male) neighbors, and one day Pat came home to find an empty house. And when I say empty, I mean no wife, no clothes, no furniture, and no note. Crystal talked very loud in movie theaters. She was under the impression that she was the only one within earshot of her overbearing, nasally, grating, nonsensical Yat dialect.

5. Marisol. Marisol was a prostitute who would perform oral sex on policemen for cash, which she would spend on coke. Pat told me once that every time he and Marisol had sex, he would leave five dollars on the night table before he left for work. He thought this was hysterical. She tried to steal his Neon once. Apparently that was not hysterical. So he hit her upside the head with the business end of a hammer. They, um, got divorced after that.

So his marriages sucked. But damn, he had a great view from his windshield every time he drove away from one.

So yeah. I’m all for gettin’ hitched. But that shit terrifies me.

I’ll talk to you later buddy. I have a busy day planned. I’m gonna sit in my house, alone, thinking how nice it is that there’s no one to fight with.

Love,

Mandey.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under adam powers, batshit morons/why the weird?, humor, relationships

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s