The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘weird’

Anniversaries and Their Gifts

My parent’s THIRTY-SEVENTH wedding anniversary is coming up. Kudos to them! (And more to come on that later.)

In the meantime, here is a list of anniversary gifts by the years. This list has some unexpected things in it.

For the 37th anniversary the traditional gift is … Ready? … Alabaster. Alabaster! What? Wait … what is alabaster?

Other notables:

24 is musical instruments. You’re at that point in your relationship where you know your spouse, possibly better than yourself, and you decide you want to drive him/her crazy.

27 is sculpture … There are, undoubtedly, rich couples out there who have had sculptures made of themselves for this anniversary, and that is great.

44 is groceries … GROCERIES!

46 is “original poetry tribute”

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You forgot the milk
What happened to the you I knew two years ago?

47 is books … And I have a feeling, depending on how 46 went for you, the book may be an idiots guide to poetry.

50 is gold, so hold on folks, you’re going to get the Midas touch one day!

God’s Watching You, and It’s Weird

When I was very young I had a conversation with my grandma that really impacted my outlook on religion. She was convinced that I had gone to the bathroom and had not washed my hands. This was annoying to me because I HAD washed my hands (duh grandma, I’m not gross). But she didn’t believe me. In her eyes I was a 3rd/4th grader, and therefore a slimy, dirty little kid (I think she found boys to be naturally more gross than girls – which may be accurate – but I wash my hands thank you).

I’m clearly still upset about the hand washing. (But don’t worry I have a solution for when people DON’T wash their hands!)

Anywho.

I went back and washed my hands. Again. When I left my grandma was waiting to give me a little speech. I have no idea what exactly she said to me, but I know in the speech she involved God and how He was always watching. He would know if I washed my hands or not. Of course the intention here was to permanently put the fear of God in me in the form of hand washing (one of God’s pet peeves perhaps?).

Except it didn’t work quite like that. One, because I had already washed my hands. Two, because it made me think God was watching me use the bathroom. This was a very unsettling thought.

From there the idea changed in shape some. The idea of someone seeing everything was too much for me to comprehend. (Yes, God is incomprehensible and all that, that’s cool, but … my mind won’t allow that, it’s too engineering-y) The way it worked in my head was that everyone had, in Heaven, a room full of VCRs (God worked with the latest technology of 1993/1994). The VCRs had recordings of your WHOLE life! Every single beautiful, sad, wonderful, and mundane moment.

And … the time you spent in the bathroom.

It was a neat little crisis of faith as a fourth grader to question if God was a perv. Ahh childhood, so innocent … and derailed into a wilderness of weird, from which I have never left.

Mom, Dad … I’m a Keyboardist

Son: Guess what! I’m in a band!
Dad: Good for you!
Mom: My cool son!
Dad: So what kind of music is it?
Son: It’s a world beat kind of thing with a lot of South American music … I play the keyboard and –
Mom: Honey …
Son: Yeah?
Mom: Dear … It’s ok, we’ve known since you were young. Frankly we were wondering when you’d tell us. You didn’t have to invent this keyboardist story.
Son: What?
Dad: Yes, we love you! We’re more progressive than you give us credit for.
Son: What are you guys talking about!?
Dad: Well … That you’re gay …
Son: WHAT!?
Mom: Isn’t keyboardist code for gay?
Son: No! I’m a keyboardist in a band – if anything women will be throwing themselves at me!
Mom: Yeah, for fashion advice.
Son: Oh shut UP!
Dad: Son!!! You DO NOT tell your mother to shut up!
Son: I’m sorry, that was really … It’s just, seriously, I’m not gay and this is very upsetting …
Dad: Oh wait – I just realized – on the shows with gay people they tell women to shut up, and much worse, and they just laugh … I guess that’s part of the deal with being gay.
Mom: Oh honey, you want to take me shopping?
Son: This is awful. I am so angry at you guys. I’m going to hang out with my band.
Mom: Ok sweety, have fun with your “band”! Maybe we can meet him some day?
Son: Aggfhhhhhh!!!