Okay. Funeral and military graveside services are set for Saturday. Non-gay looking floral arrangements are taken care of. The jap car has been washed. Hospice stuff was picked up within hours of Pops' death. His obituary has been written. Condolences have been given and received and more fucking casseroles have been delivered than I thought possible. About the only thing I can think of is his marker - I'm going to try to sweet talk Mom into making sure there's a "III" on that motherfucker somewhere.
Now I'm fixing to go off: Casseroles. Jesus Christ..... What the fuck is it about casseroles and deaths? Are they trying to kill more of us off? Don't get me wrong - I do appreciate a good casserole occasionally. Occasionally. But when you're looking at 4 or 5 of those motherfuckers with a combined weight of 38.6 pounds...... Surely all those kind folks (and I am thankful for their generous hearts) didn't think 'Hmmm, I bet nobody bought Mrs. Lane a casserole today' did they? Ladies, we appreciate the thought but not the casserole.
Check this shit out - you want to bring something that is really gonna be appreciated? Bring a party tray of meats and cheeses. A couple of pizzas. Some hash brownies. Some fresh fruit kicks ass right then. Some venison jerky or some smoked fish would be tasty. Ice cream. Pleasure food, you know? Something filling, nourishing, tasty and quick.
I saw this shit coming and immediately distanced myself from any casseroles. As I said, I do appreciate a good casserole so I ate some of my first casserole last night - Aunt Fran's World Famous Enchilada Casserole and I'm fixing to have some more in a bit. It's world famous for a reason.... but had I been eating casseroles all along I'd be gagging them up by now.
And as long as I'm ranting let's talk about motherfuckers wanting to hug on me. My line of thinking is that if you won't hug on me any other time then keep your goddamned hands off me now.
Picture this: I'm sitting in Pop's chair (and there ain't a fucking thing he can do about it now) feeding a casserole to the dog and watching Predator Quest, not bothering nobody, and just as Les Johnson's about to make a spectacular shot, some woman I haven't even met comes up and throws her fucking arms around me and says "You must be Kenneth. I know how you feel, you poor thing."
No you don't, Godammit. You just made me miss his fucking shot. Get the fuck away from me.
I'm serious, man. I got relatives I haven't seen in 30-40 years coming up and hugging on me. There's a reason I haven't seen these motherfuckers in 30-40 years - it's because I don't like them. Can't they take a fucking hint? If I saw them on the street I wouldn't even acknowledge their existence, but now it's okay to hug on me? Again, get the fuck away from me. And stay away. I don't like strangers putting their hands on me, I won't tolerate letting people I don't like near me.
And one more thing before I go off on another tangent - If you do hug on me and happen to run across a knife or two and a firearm, try to keep it to yourself, yeah? Godammit, if you think you know me well enough to be hugging on me then you damned sure oughta know I'm carrying some weaponry. And believe me, everybody else in the room has already felt me up and is well aware of the fact that I have a gun on me and you know what? They don't fucking care. They're still there, ain't they? Fuck, if the law was to break in and search everybody in that house, they'd find 90% of the adults and maybe even a couple of the youngsters are carrying a gun too. Big deal. Shut the fuck up about it.
Okay. I'm done. Thank God for xanax.
Always bring a spiral sliced ham, rolls, and a Texas sheet cake. Ham is great for sandwiches or just snacking, and NOBODY can resist Texas sheet cake. Maybe I'll start making cupcakes with Xanax sprinkles.
ReplyDeleteSee? Wiserangel gets it.
ReplyDeleteYou cannot go wrong with pork. It just can't be done.
Beer worked at my dad's reception/wake. Of course anything including karaoke works out there in Perris/Elsinore.
ReplyDeleteI lost my dad and I have been to a bereavement buffet. A couple of combat bottles of Jim Beam would be a nice contribution. I am sorry for your loss. No I don't want to fucking hug you. the rat
ReplyDeleteI appreciate you not hugging on me, Mohave Rat. Please don't send me a casserole.
ReplyDeleteOkay Ham and Xanax cupcakes aside, I have to defend the casseroles. They're not meant to be eaten all at once. You're supposed to freeze several for meals down the road when you don't feel like cooking. Casseroles were also a way for the merry widows and hotsy divorcees to show off their skills to newly widowed men. Icky, I know, but there you have the ugly history of the bereavement casserole.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I don't give a fuck.
ReplyDeleteBesides, I don't have a chest type freezer anymore.
There's no way on God's green earth you can freeze all them damned casseroles.
Hugs to you Wirecutter.
ReplyDeleteSteaks, baked taters with onion and bacon in the middle wrapped in foil, and cold beer, or iced sweet tea in Ken's case, and oh, it is a can I speak to you outside thing, I wanna show you something new added to my truck come with me thing......what is it? your dinner!
ReplyDeletecasseroles belong with baked beans, in the garbage
ReplyDeletebbq pulled pork, po boys, brauts, lasagna, lots of doritos, beverage of choice-no one touches my bottles-and no hugs for you, just a raise of the glass for your dad having a full life.
ReplyDeleteUsually when someone I now losses someone i just take them beer. I figure they already got enough food coming in so they mite need booze. I now what you mean about hugging only person who gets to hug me is my mom everyone else gets one warning growl then its on
ReplyDeleteBring beer- he was a soldier, dammit!
ReplyDeleteMy usual is either a Bottle of Scotch, Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, or Stoli, depending on the bereaved person.
ReplyDeleteI feel your pain.
ReplyDeleteI hate the fucking "bro hug" with a passion! What the fuck is that shit?
A hand-shake with one arm and a hug and pat on the back with the other?
Fuck you.
I get very uncomfortable every time it is attempted.
I don't want to go to bed with you or stick my tongue down your throat.
A firm hand-shake between men is sufficient.
Men don't hug each other unless it's a father/son thing.
You sound kinda upset.
ReplyDeleteIf I was over there on the left coast, I'd stop by with a bottle of Jack and a hug for you, bro.
Seriously. Reminds me of when my mom passed a few years back. I never spoke to that side of the family at all, including my mother. All of a sudden, I've got all these self-righteous pricks coming up to me and telling me what a wonderful person my mom was, and how much she'd be missed, etc. etc.. (and fucking hugging on me too)
After about a day of that, I started correcting people on some of that "Your mom was a saint" shit.
Yeah. They left me alone after that.
And guess what? After all those "We're here for you" motherfuckers went home, I never heard from any of them again. Probably for the best. If one of them called me out of the blue, I'd probably tell them to cuddle up to my hairy fucking balls anyway.
A couple of fried chickens and a dozen or two biscuits are the food of choice in South Georgia. And out back will be a cooler of beer and a mason jar that gets passed around.
ReplyDeleteKeep the faith Brother
BTW: FUCK Obama
W/C, there would be no point in a bunch of mushy drivel on my part cuz I know you would say ,well fuck you , you did'nt know him or me. > I'm thinking about my own old man, 82nd. abn. WW2 and Korea. The last couple year's he lived getting up at 0500 every morning coughing blood and going to work anyway.Never complaining. I was a kid in those day's and did'nt really realize what I was witnessing. The point of this I guess is that every old school blue collar working man who depart's the scene , leave's a hole in the very soul of this country. They truly are irreplaceable. ( by the way that " the world don't owe you a livin boy " I must have heard that a thousand time's).
ReplyDeleteNote to self: casseroles are wirecutter's kryptonite. Sorry, didn't mean to add to your aggravation. Have a Xanax cupcake.
ReplyDeleteBless you bro. I tend to bring shrimp creole, myself, but that's just 'cuz I like cooking it. And a pocket flask to the services.
ReplyDeleteNot to seem insensitive or anything, but: Fuck Obama.
I respect your opinion but don't totally agree with it.
ReplyDeleteIt may be different on the left coast than in the south, but casseroles and fried chicken are the norm here. Also enough deserts to send a diabetic into a coma.
Those people are there to show respect to your father or someone in your family. Their efforts demonstrate they cared enough to make an effort. Most have been taught since a young age it is the right thing to do. I will not say I understand how you feel but I have been where you are or in a very similar place. While I did not always appreciate the hugs or "I know how you feel comments", many people simply do not know what to say and feel they must say something. I accepted all of the ministrations in the spirit intended. Years from now you will remember Cousin xyz, or neighbor z who had enough respect for your you, your father or family to bring the casserole to your family's gathering place or home.The others will become a part of the fog that always occurs during a time such as this.
Peace be with you.
Alabama Dawg
Alabama Dawg - my family is from the south and southwest - I was the first of this generation to be born here.
ReplyDeleteThe casseroles was an attempt at rough humor. As I said in the post, I do appreciate the intentions of every one that's brought something.
The hugging part was serious but in a funny sense. I don't like folks that I don't know or like touching me no matter what the circumstances are.....
The best gift for these occaisions is one ounce of the best pot you can find.
ReplyDelete