As you also know, (and if you don't, where the fuck have you been?) my family is bat shit motherfucking crazy.
You also know I had to attend a family funeral last Friday.
Grab a beer, brownie, and a seat, assholes. I'm going to tell you all about it.
My Uncle Al passed away on New Year's Eve...in his garage, with his dog at his side. She wasn't a service dog, just a regular dog. That dog was so important in his life, she made it into the obituary. This pissed off his grandchildren, whom were not mentioned in said obit. Bad move, Uncle Al. They were the ones that picked out his "final resting" outfit.
Let's just say that when you get to heaven, (or hell, whatever...), if you see an old white guy with a perpetual smirk, wearing a blue polyester suit, paisley tie and enough gold chains to make the local pimp jealous? Congratulations! You have found my Uncle Al. My Uncle was always a practical joker, so he should be 'aight with pimpin' in the ever after, yo!'
When his wife, (my Aunt Yvonne), died 5 years ago, he got a little weird. He started talking to the television and became an Agoraphobic (never left the house) overnight. This worked for him until he accidentally burned the motherfucking house down because he fell asleep smoking a fatty. RIP Uncle Al.
My cousin Mary was there. She is my age and has partied so hard that she looked older than my
Mother. To be honest, I went around the corner, bumped into her, and about shit myself. She is one scary lookin' bitch.
My Aunt Marge was also in attendance. She is the last living relative of my Grandmother's family. She kept muttering about some family conspiracy, the city poisoning the water, and how late this funeral was being held. It was from 4-7pm, but when you eat dinner at 3:30, 7pm is like midnight.
She had bottles of water in every pocket of her trench coat. I'm pretty sure the Funeral Home Director thought she was packing heat because every time she got within 10 feet of him, he would nervously eye her bulging pockets and start sweating.
My cousin Ross is 59 years old, still has no job and lives in his Mother's
basement. Thing is, he has been tested and is a genius with a sky high IQ. I'm
thinking he may have people in his freezer because really, still living in his
80 year old Mother's house? *cue creepy music*
My cousin Sherly is so skinny and pasty looking. I think she is either a real life fucking vampire, or has an eating
disorder. She lives in
California, and walks around telling everyone the sun will kill them, and that she has to watch her weight to fit into nice clothes.
Umm..hello...anyone there? This bitch needs some fried foods, sun, and if they
don't put weights in her shoes, I'm pretty sure the wind around here will up and
carry her bony ass away.
My cousin Al jr smelled like a walking distillery. His breath even made even MY eyes water when he talked to me. AND? I thought he would literally fall out of his damn chair during the service.
Speaking of the service, when it started, a small woman with permed frizzy, 70's hair, wearing Birkenstock's, ugly slacks and a shawl got up to speak.
I thought it was a neighbor, or the funeral home director's Mom. Then I noticed some kind of pouch around her waist, a holy water sprinkler in her hand, and a gargoyle on the cover of her "bible".
Turns out, she was the Pastor/tree hugger/shaman/high priestess/whatever they chose to do the service. I started to wonder if she would sacrifice a chicken, or light a bong and pass it around. While I'm good with the bong passing, the chicken thing would have freaked me the fuck out.
Then she opened her mouth and the voice of an elementary school librarian popped out. About that time, my Mother started coughing...and could. not. stop. This made me giggle because my Grandmother used to be the wedding/church/funeral hacker. My mother hated that. I can't tell you how much pleasure I got out of turning to my Mother and saying, "WOW Mom, looks like Gram made it after all!"
After shunning my Mother, the gargoyle lady continued with the service. However, each and EVERY time she mentioned how in love my Uncle Al and Aunt Yvonne were, 50 years, blah blah, Al and Elizabeth are in heaven now, Al and Elizabeth were happy now...soul mates....blah, blah...wait...WTF?
All of a sudden, the Duke is discreetly poking me. I can't look at him because I will loose my shit if I do, and while me laughing uncontrollably on the floor may be entertaining, it would be highly inappropriate. That crazy tree hugging elder called my Aunt "Elizabeth" instead of Yvonne, at least a dozen times.
And then it happened. My drunk cousin, who was listening to this shaman talk about his parents stood up and yelled, "WHO THE FUCK IS ELIZABETH AND WHY THE BLOODY HELL IS SHE WITH MY DAD IN HEAVEN??? !!!"
He then stumbled to the coffin, leaned over and said, "Damn Dad, that's cold-blooded! I'm going to miss you, you old son-of-a-bitch. Fuck, I need a cigarette!" And proceeded to stumble to the left, wiping out 2 flower arrangements and a potted plant.
And with that, the Funeral Director jumped up, thanked everyone for coming, and pretty much asked us to leave. Only my family would get thrown out of a funeral home.
That's it. This drunken Dutchess is making an appointment with her Doctor to make sure I am taking enough pills to deal with that kinda crazy running through my effin blood.