What a pleasant Father's Day. Makes the pull-out method not so bad after all. I hope yours was swell, too.
My family procured me a massage table. Now I can fall asleep face down without fear of suffocation. It's really the best way to sleep. Better than hanging upside down, which I've tried. It made my back feel better, but such a headache!
As soon as I find a qualified, non-threatening woman who will come to the house, I can really get the most out of this excellent gift. Thank Hashem I had the foresight to install that plasma TV into the floor months ago.
Looks like I have a new gig, too.
Mascot for IceBreakersTM Gum.
Yay! Ha-ha. I'm suing those pricks on Monday for image misappropriation.
Speaking of fathers...my dad's wife is such a liar. I love my mother, but she lies. I've learned to accept her petty cover-ups, but now it's getting out of hand, and someone's going to get hurt.
"Happy Father's Day. Did you get my card?"
"I did. Thank you."
Thank you not for the card, but what was in it.
As for the card, I remarked to my wife, upon receiving it a couple days earlier, that it was an odd choice for me and the holiday.
"A picture of purple flowers? What does that have to do with Father's Day or me?"
Oh. Well, that changes...nothing. The point is, they could have been a Venus Fly Trap and still sent the same message: "Hey! I'm busy."
My mother has a Strategic Gift Reserve (SGR) run in similar fashion to the way in which the US government stockpiles it's oil supply in case of emergency. Every so often she'll venture to local discount stores and stock up on cheapened ribbons, boxes, bags, cards, and other gift accessories in order to complete future hasty, obligatory gift purchases.
Sometimes the gift itself is purchased during these shady runs on clearance aisles so that more unsuspecting victims can be pressed into service of her ongoing campaign to build a legacy of largesse.
There was the puzzle of a ship purchased months, perhaps years earlier at Marshall's, and was given to Nettie the Housekeeper late one December 27th. I heard later from a mole that Nettie blamed my mother's puzzle gift for the bullet her son took in the shoulder as he worked on the puzzle in his living room as a drug turf war raged outside in their underprivileged community. He lived, but if it weren't for that damn puzzle....
Yours truly has been the victim of this as when I received for Hannukkah a couple of years ago, a set of old-time radio shows on cassette that had been in her basement since 1978. Not only was Fibber McGee and Molly so intensely not on my wish list, but there wasn't a single cassette deck to be found in my home or car, so, had I actually wanted to laugh along with The Goldbergs, it would have cost me money to do so. That gift went directly in the garbage while 60% of the wrapping was still on...a Wachs Family record.
"That was quite an interesting card you selected for me. Purple Flowers. Father's Day."
"Those are hydrangeas."
"Yep. Boy you nailed that one. When did you get that card?"
"What do you mean? Last week. I bought it and sent it to you. In the mail. Why are you acting like this? I put my life on a silver platter for you..all of you, and this is the treatment I receive."
After a bit of uncomfortable silence, my mom started giggling like she had just farted in public.
"OK, I bought it a year ago somewhere. I just didn't have time."
I understand. It's a full life being the wife of a retired CEO of a small cole slaw manufacturing company. What with the sitting and the reading and the TV watching. The weekly People magazine crossword alone is two hours out of each week. Who has time to keep up? Why, just the other day she sent some carbon credits she had lying around to a friend who went into the hospital for a biopsy.
I don't mind in and of itself getting a generic card with purple flowers on it for Father's Day. The check inside had my name on it and it cleared. Good gift. It excuses the card. But to cover up the obvious as if I'm some day laborer in her yard...it's frightening.
The petty fraud perpetrated on son by matriarch is so unneccessary it makes me wonder if she's conspiring with an uncle to have me whacked soon. So what if I took home some of her pills once?...or twice...ish.
It hurts, Mommy. It hurts. Make it stop. Ditch the cards. Just send the check next time. Use the memo line if you must.