Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Weekend conversations and split personalities

Friday, 4:30pm, driving home from work

Received following text message approximately seven times before responding late Saturday evening:

Fisher Price: I need to ask you a question. (x7)


FP: Never mind now. Wanted you to meet my daughter.

Me: Weird.

Self: How in gawd’s name did he father a child? He practically has a vagina.
Self2: That wasn’t nice.
Self: Eye roll. Why don’t you go fuck him again then?
Self2: Why don’t YOU!
Self: Why am I splitting my personality?
Self2: Because you need material for therapy.

Friday, sometime at night, lying in bed not yet asleep, phone rings

Me: Hello?

Person I don’t know: What are you wearing?

Me: Old lady pants.

Person: What?

Me: Does your mother know you’re calling?

Person: Is this Stephanie?

Me: Does Stephanie wear old lady pants?

Person: Steph quit playing around.

Me: This conversation may be recorded for quality assurance.


Saturday 9:30am, sleeping peacefully, phone rings

Me: Uh.

Cousin K: Are you awake?

Me: Uh.

K: Great. Ok. So, we won’t make it to the church until around 10:30 – 11. We have a lot to do, but I’m running a little behind this morning.

Me: Uh.

K: So don’t rush...

Me: Mumble mumble, fuck off.

K: Thanks for offering to help! See you around 11!

Saturday, around 1pm, making and cutting sandwiches in church kitchen

Me: Why are we wasting all of this bread by cutting these sandwiches with stupid cookie cutters? There are starving cheerleaders at my house.

K: You can take all the bread scraps home if you want.

Me: I refuse to be THAT person...the bag lady...the one that loads up all of the leftovers and waddles away.

K: Ok. We can give them to Larry. (The goose)

Me: Fuck Larry.

K: We’re IN CHUCH. Could you not...

Me: Sorry.

5 minutes later, two big grocery bags are STUFFED with sandwich scraps

Aunt D: What’s in that bag?

Me: Your lunch.

Aunt D: What?

Me: Sandwich scraps. Wasted bread and turkey and pineapple and cream cheese....

Aunt D: I’ll take it. (Picks up bag and waddles away.)

K: (looking at me) Don’t say a word.

Me: Wasn’t gonna!

3 hours later, in kitchen cleaning up, scooping weenies into cup

K: Did you get any cake squares to take home for the kid?

Me: Yep.

K: What are you doing?

Me: Raiding the weenie pot.

K: But you wouldn’t raid the sandwich scraps?

Me: Nope. Weenies beat buns, hands down. (Grin)

K: Why do I even talk to you?

Me: (stuffing weenies in mouth) Dunno.

Monday, The Grandmother’s house, just arriving, walking up path to door

Me: There’s a baby squirrel in front of the steps! Look!

Mom: Squeal, squeal, annoying rabies rant.

The Kid: I wanna see! I wanna see!

TG: (looking through screen door) I’ll kill it! Nasty things!

Baby squirrel huddled against the bottom step staring at loud humans with wide, fearful eyes.

Me: Aw, no Grandma! You can’t kill it! It’s just a whittle baby!

Climbed stairs and faced TG.

TG: (mean face) Well, you can just take it home with you and cuddle it then!

Me: (eyes narrowed) Are you going to be nice today or do I have to leave?

TG: (looking sheepish) Yes! I’m going to be nice to you today! I even wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget!

Me: You had to write down....to remind yourself...to be nice to me?

TG: (entirely serious expression) Yes.

Me: Oooook.

Everyone else: laughing

Self2: Now THAT is a therapy moment.
Self: Exactly.


Organic Meatbag said...

Hilarious! Best part? You stuffing weenies in your mouth...hahahaha!

erin said...

That original Fisher Price story was posted on my birthday. How...inappropriate. I have a rather gigantic dick. :D

The Peach Tart said...

Now that was quite the family bonding weekend wasn't it? I wouldn't touch the sandwich scraps but of course like you....stuffing weenies....no problem.

rubbish said...

Your therapist is going to have his/her work cut out, poor bastard.

ladytruth said...

Thanks for giving me new material when I get another caller from a wrong number ;)

PoliticsChick said...

I want to say something funny and witty but I can't stop laughing.

mo.stoneskin said...

Stephanie, is that you? Quit playing around, I know you don't wear old lady pants.

mylittlebecky said...

weenie pot, i think, is an oxymoron. a sexual oxymoron. that is all.

ps some of these comments are making me giggle.

Eric said...

This reads like a screenplay. A twisted glimpse into your life screenplay.

BTW, can't believe 'K' didn't laugh at the nice weenie/bun metaphor...

Anonymous said...

Stuffing a weenies... hehe... I have so missed reading your blog!

Good stuff - carry on!

Hannah Miet said...

I laughed approximately 15 times during the duration of this post. Thought you should know.

Anonymous said...

The split personality part made me LOL. Also, the unknown caller conversation? Amazing.

otherworldlyone said...

Meatbag: Delicious and nutritious!

Erin: Hmm. I'm guessing that though this gigantic dick belongs to you...it's attached to someone else. If not...no judgment!

Tart: Southern ladies unite! Stuff more weenies!

Rubbish: Come now. It's probably the cheapest entertainment they'll ever get.

Ladytruth: Always happy to help, love.

PC: It happens to the best of us. ;)

Becky: Oh ho! You caught the weenie pot! Good job.

Eric: If it involves my family, trust me, it's always twisted. She's part of team Jesus. She doesn't usually laugh at penis jokes.

Rita: Glad you're back! Missed you as well!

Hannah: That's definitely something I should know. Thanks! ;)

Cool: I LOVE unknown callers. So much fun.

One Sassy Girl said...

The fly on your wall must be highly entertained!!

My grandma is like that too, except she likes being mean.

Mega8815 said...

OMG your grandmother's the best!
And that random guy who phoned?! WTF?!

Thanx for the random smiles