Being Shorts With Mom

, , , , | Related | September 28, 2017

(My father passed away shortly before Labor Day, so my mother [his ex-wife] and I have driven to Tennessee together for the funeral, and to bring back several antiques that he was storing for me after his parents died. All throughout packing for the journey, Mom has been insisting I pack shorts. I don’t like wearing shorts, and instead pack jeans.)

Mom: “[My Name], you’re going to burn up! It’s going to be just boiling when we get there!”

Me: “Eh. I’ll be fine.”

Mom: “Just one pair! You’re going to be miserable, and I don’t want to have to put up with your complaining!”

Me: “Whatever.”

(And wouldn’t you know it, for the entire 900-mile trip up there it is cold, wet, and miserable. I, in my jeans, am perfectly fine, while my mom is complaining about how cold it is. We are there for three days, and only on the day of the burial is it nice and sunny.)

Me: “’[My Name], please. Bring shorts. It’s going to be so hot. You’re going to be so miserable. I don’t want to hear you complain.’”

Mom: *laughing, and trying to sound angry* “Shut up. If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to kick your a**!”

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Death By Chocolate, Part 8

, , , , | Friendly | September 11, 2017

(An elderly man from my church has recently passed away. The day after the funeral, a group of us meet at a friend’s house for dinner. We’re playing some board games when some little cakes get brought out for dessert.)

Friend #1: “These are leftovers from [Recently Deceased Man’s] funeral.”

Friend #2: “As long as they’re not leftovers of [Recently Deceased Man].”

Me: “He always was a sweet guy.”

(Everyone laughs.)

Friend #3: *trying to recover from laughing* “That’s awful!”

Me: “Hey, he got his just desserts.”

(When it comes to jokes, dark humour is a piece of cake.)

Death By Chocolate, Part 7
Death By Chocolate, Part 6
Death By Chocolate, Part 5
Death By Chocolate, Part 4
Death By Chocolate, Part 3

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Dumping Everything On You At The Funeral

, , , | Friendly | September 6, 2017

Friend: “I’ve got something really important to tell you.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Friend: *deep breath* “All that chocolate you gave me…”

Me: “From last year?”

Friend: “I ate it all before coming over. And it feels like it’s pulling on my intestines.”

Me: “…”

Friend: “I think I need the toilet, REALLY BAD.”

Me: “Well, go?”

(He told me this, at full volume, at my brother’s funeral. Everyone heard. He was in the toilet so long, we were billed for extending the service.)

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Trying To Explain The Junior In Your Belly

| Friendly | May 12, 2017

(My friend’s father has just died. Both my friend and the father had the same name — let’s say, John. I go to the funeral. At the end I queue up to shake the family’s hands as is traditional. My friend’s mother, the wife of the deceased, is first in line. I’ve never met her before.)

Me: “Sorry for your loss.”

Mother: “Thank you.” *looks confused about who I am*

Me: “I’m a friend of John’s.”

Mother: *looks even more confused and glances at my eight-month pregnancy bump*

Me: “John Junior! A friend of John Junior!”

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Ah, You’ve Met The Family Interrogator

| Friendly | March 22, 2017

(My grandma has recently passed away and family and friends have gathered for her funeral. I help carry my grandma’s coffin into the service along with my brother and two other cousins. Although it is a sad day, the service is wonderful and we go away feeling as if she would have approved. During the service I see a middle aged woman helping with the Eucharist part. During the wake I see her shooting me several funny looks. Just when I am walking over to talk to one of my cousins she suddenly stands in my way.)

Woman: *rudely* “Who are you?”

Me: “Err… excuse me?”

Woman: “You were carrying the coffin; who on earth are you?”

Me: “[My Name], I’m her grandson.”

Woman: “Which daughter is your mother?”

(She has a very cross look on her face as if I have done something terribly wrong.)

Me: “[Mum]. I’m her youngest son. Now, do you mind?”

(Quickly I dodged past her and proceeded to ignore her the rest of the wake. Later on, I asked my aunt who she was. She laughed and replied “She’s a weird woman, that one!” and proceeded to inform me she wasn’t well liked by the other church members due to her bizarre and rude behaviour. Thankfully this was a minor problem on an otherwise good day. Wish I could have heard what my grandma thought of her, though!)

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