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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Friday, May 12, 2006

The past two weeks have been stressful for any number of reasons. In an effort to clear my head, I put on my driving hat (featured left) and my favorite t-shirt (not featured left) and drove to the tiny town of Rocky Mount, Virginia for a visit to my grandmother's house, where the cooking is always meh and Fox News flows like wine. My grandmother is a pretty awesome lady simply because she's nice 90% of the time, but she's also realized that at 85, you can say whatever you please, fart wherever you want, do what you like, and ask any questions, no matter how graphic without people holding it against you. Like she told me this weekend, "Honey, I'm an old lady and I've got nothin to lose."

I believe that living like she's got nothing to lose is, in part, what's kept my grandmother alive and kicking so long (well, that and the miracles of hip replacement, quadruple bypass surgery, a strong faith, and potato soup). When hangin out with Mama J, everyone in the family anticipates weird questions like "Do you think Jerry Falwell will go to heaven?" and "How do black people do their hair?" but what we don't anticipate is that one of us will have an answer more strange than the question. This weekend when my grandmother asked with a completely straight face, "What's a testicle?" and my aunt replied with an equally straight face, "You should ask my husband, he has three," I was in get-your-mind-off-of-stressful-things-and-onto-how-in-the-world-are-you-related-to-these-people -also-is-three-testicles-even-possible?-are-they-in-a-line-or-a-bunch? heaven. We then watched not one, but several hours of Bill O'Reilly during which my grandmother asked myriad questions that involved the word 'ding dong' and told stories about people with names like Tookie and Ballard. It was like a maelstrom of every taboo subject on earth, all spewing from the unashamed lips of the most wrinkled woman I've ever seen.

When the conversation ended with my grandmother saying, "and in conclusion, that's why I'm just sick of the whites," all I could do was start laughing this crazy, stress-relieving maniacal laugh to myself, then crying to myself, then laughing all over again at the sheer absurdity of it all. Driving home on winding country roads, all I could think about was how lucky I am to be surrounded by a most delightfully bizarre collection of people, no matter how their balls may be arranged.


At 1:02 PM, Blogger i heart dorks said...

"and in conclusion, that's why I'm just sick of the whites,"



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