Sister Contrary Is A Baller.

I haven’t talked about my sister on this blog very much, mostly because I think I have humiliated/forced her to eat cat food enough for one lifetime, but y’all, I think it’s important for you to know that my sister is a baller. Maybe she’s so cool because of the ceaseless teasing and torture I inflicted upon her (lovingly) as kids. In fact, yeah, let’s go ahead and say that she’s as cool as she is because of me. Unfortunately, my plan of teasing her into coolness had a flaw, which is, she’s like LOTS cooler than me now, as proven over the weekend at a family dinner.

Sister Contrary: I want to live like a King and Queen with my husband. You know separate rooms, but he can like, come and visit my room whenever he wants, except after (note: she’s talking about after sex here ….) he has to go back to his own room. 

This girl is so cool. She said that in front of our Dad. Our Dad.

 

Grammy Is Suspicious Of Her Pharmacist.

Occasionally, I have the pleasure of taking my Grammy and Popsie to pick up their medication from the pharmacy. It has never once failed to provide hilarity.

Grammy: Captain Thoughtful (he was driving) can you please stop by the pharmacy so we can pick up our prescriptions?

Captain Thoughtful: Of course!

Me: This is going to be awesome….

Captain Thoughtful: Why?

Me: You’ll see.

We arrive at the pharmacy.

Captain Thoughtful: We need to pick up prescriptions for Popsie…

Grammy: (Rolls down window in the back seat and begins to shout at pharmacist) And GRAMMY! I have a prescription too!

Pharmacist: Oh…..ok. Let me check.

Grammy: Captain Thoughtful, I think you flustered her.

Me: You don’t think it was the old lady yelling at her from the back seat that flustered her?

Grammy: No.

Pharmacist: Yes, I have two prescriptions for Popsie and one for Grammy.

Grammy: I suspected as much.

Me: You were suspicious that you had a prescription? Did you think they were hiding it?

Grammy: You  never know….

Grammy Had Thoughts On North Korea.

I know last week was all Grammy posts, but y’all, the woman just doesn’t stop. She can’t be contained. In one 15 minutes car ride, I got 3 new blogs. This is possibly my favorite because Grammy has some thoughts on North Korea y’all.

Grammy: Well, I’m worried about that little guy. 

Me: Can you be any more specific? 

Grammy: That little guy in North Korea. 

Me: Kim Jong Un? 

Grammy: Yeah! That’s the little guy! 

Me: I don’t think you need to worry too much about it. I mean, you don’t need to worry the about the things he’s saying, I’m not making a comment on his size. Because Napoleon was like, really small, and he went to WORK in Europe so that proves size doesn’t really play into one’s ability to wage war. But in this case, I don’t think you need to worry too much. 

Grammy: I just don’t think he’s ready to make such big decisions. 

Me: Oh? 

Grammy: Yeah! He’s taking too much into those tiny hands.

Me: Don’t worry Grams, his missiles can’t reach us. 

Grammy: But he HATES Austin!

Me: Uhh…..how do you know that?

Grammy: I read it in the paper. 

Me: Today’s paper?

Grammy: Yes. 

Me: That was a joke about *if* he came to Austin. 

Grammy: It wasn’t real? He hasn’t ever been here?

Me: No, it wasn’t real. It was humorous. And no, he hasn’t been here to my knowledge. 

Grammy: Well. Now I feel ignorant. But also, I’m a little relieved. That little guy really had me worried for Austin. 

 

Grammy On Baby Safety and The Name Lulu.

Grammy: Are you and the Captain thinking about having babies?

Me: Yes we are, maybe in the next couple of years.

Grammy: Well, to be honest, I think I rushed your Popsie into having babies.

Me: Oh?

Grammy: I just really wanted them. So, I kind of pushed him.

Me: Pushed him? I’m sure he went willingly.

Grammy: Oh! We knew how to be safe with the….you know…..well…we knew how to be safe.

Me: What do you mean? (Said innocently even though I totally knew what she meant.)

Grammy: You know….safe. Like safe from babies.

Me: Were they attacking you?

Grammy: You know what I mean.

Me: Yes, yes I do.

Grammy: But we really did know about…being safe. We did. We knew ALL about it.

Me: Umm…I believe you.

AND LATER ON……..

Me: What do you think of the name Lulu for a girl? (This question was directed at Captain Thoughtful)

Grammy: Oh! I HATE it!

Captain Thoughtful: Actually, I really like it.

Grammy: (Hits Captain Thoughtful) You bad boy!

Me: Uh, Grams? His opinion counts more than yours in this discussion.

Grammy: But mine does count.

Me: Uhhhh…not as much as Captain Thoughtful’s.

Grammy: But it DOES count.

Me: Let’s play a different game now.

Grammy Can’t Say Penis.

As is well documented in this blog, my Grammy says “tallywhacker” instead of “penis”. It is one of my life’s goals to hear her say “penis”.  On our road trip last weekend, I made it very difficult for her to refuse.

Me: Grammy, what do you call a man’s genitalia? And don’t say tallywhacker. What else can you call a man’s genitalia?

Grammy: Well, I better not say or it will get me in trouble.

Me: With who?

Grammy: My conscience.

Me: Seriously, what do you call it?

Grammy: That’s a personal question.

Me: No, it’s not. It’s a medical question. What is the proper term for a man’s genitalia?

Grammy: I’m not going to say what you want me to say.

Me: I will give you $10 if you say “penis”. Seriously, I have it right here, $10. All you have to say is “penis”.

Grammy: Well, we better change the subject before I get talked into saying something I will regret.

Me: I’m never going to give up on this.

My Grammy Is A Medical Miracle

Basically, this week is going to be nothing but Grammy posts because we went on a road-trip last weekend and it was like hitting the blogging jackpot.

Grammy: When I was 5 I had my tonsils out but later they grew back.

Me: No. They didn’t.

Grammy: Oh yes they did! Ask my Doctor.

Me: I believe you have tonsils, I just don’t believe they were taken out and grew back. That would have been a medical miracle. Your doctors would have written papers about you. You would be the famous regenerating woman!

Grammy: Well, they did grow back.

Me: If that is true, and I’m not saying it is, then you are way more evolved than the rest of us. You can regenerate! Like a lizard’s tail.

Grammy: All I know is that I had my tonsils removed and now I have them, so they obviously grew back. You can ask Nana.

Me: Grammy, Nana is dead. What am I supposed to do? Get a ouija board and try and contact her?

Grammy: Nana would never talk to you through a ouija board!

Me: I think we’re at an impasse.

Grammy: I also had a floating kidney.

Me: What the what??!

Grammy: A floating kidney.

Me: Where did it float to?

Grammy: Down.

Me: So, you really had a sinking kidney?

Grammy: You don’t believe me!

Me: I believe that you believe you.

Grammy: Wake up your sister! (My sister, an ICU nurse, was sleeping in the backseat)

Me: Sis! Is there such a thing as a floating kidney?

Sister: Ummmmmm, yes, I think so…..

Grammy: Put it in google!

Sister: Ok, just a sec…….yes, there is such a thing.

Me: Grammy thinks she had it.

Sister: No way. Grammy, you didn’t have a floating kidney.

Grammy: YES I DID! I had to wear a corset and everything.

Me: How old are you that they would use a corset to treat a medical condition???

Grammy: They did!

Sister: That’s not how you treat a floating kidney Grammy.

Grammy: Well fine, but I did. I know I did.  Y’all don’t believe me but I DID. It got fixed when I had a baby.

Me: I’m just saying, that if this is all true, someone should write a book about you because you’re a wealth of medical miracles.

Grammy: You should! And then give me 10%.

Me:  I’ll work on that.

Dinner With Grammy

Grammy: When you and Captain Thoughtful decide to have kids in 10 years, or 3 years, or 1 year (wink wink) I just want you to remember something.

Me: Ok. But first let me tell you it will be more than one year, but probably less than 10.

Grammy: Well. When your kids are old enough and you start feeding them wieners, make sure you chop them up.

Me: Ummmmmm……

Grammy: The wieners! You have to chop them up! It says so on the package.

Me: Yeah. I know what you’re talking about. I think. Do you know what you’re talking about?

Grammy: Chopping up wieners. So your kids don’t choke.

Me: Ok. Fair enough.

 

Because this here is real y’all.

Geez Grammy. It’s Not Broken.

Before you read this post, you should know this conversation happened over a year ago about 1 week after I met Captain Thoughtful. I didn’t post it then because right after this conversation I was instructed not to blog about Grammy because “people know who I am” but now I can posit it because she claims “She doesn’t remember telling me that.” So it goes. 

Y’all know my Grammy. She is a lovable loon who gives me endless laughs and blogging material, bless her heart. Yesterday, the talk turned to gentlemen. Prepare yourselves.

Me: So, I met a guy I kind of like.

Grammy: Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhh.

Me: Yeah. I mean, who knows? But he was really funny and we had great chemistry. I don’t know. It’s just nice to feel that way, it’s been a while since I felt like I had that kind of chemistry with a guy.

Grammy: Thank heavens! I was worried *it* was broken.

Me: Uh….to what *it* are you referring?

Grammy: You know exactly what I mean. They say if you don’t use it, you lose it, and you haven’t exactly been using yours lately.

Me: Holy zeus. I can’t believe you just said that.

Grammy: It’s a real concern! I worry about losing it too, especially because those TV commercials scare me.

Me: No way! No way, is this conversation happening. Am I dead?

Grammy: They’re scary talking about if….you know,…..if *things* last more than 4 hours. That’s scary!

Me: More so for Popsie than for you.

Grammy: When he hurts, I hurt.

Me: Trust me, in this situation, your pain wouldn’t even be comparable to his.

Grammy: Well, anyway, I just like to cuddle. If you know what I mean.

Me: I think we all know what you mean by “cuddling”.

Grammy: Are you going to write a blurb about this?

Me: A blog? A blurb on my blog?

Grammy: You know what I mean.

Me: Oh, you better believe this is going on my blog. I can’t believe you were worried I had “lost it”.

Grammy: I worry because I love you.

Me: I love you too.

After I recently reminded Grammy about this conversation, she claimed the “it” she was referring to was “flirtation or charm”, which is strange but I’m willing to accept her explanation because this entire conversation was both hilarious and upsetting and making it about flirtation is less awful. Denial has been very good to me y’all.

On The Bright Side.

So, I lost the family kickball game on Thanksgiving. Actually, not only did my team lose, I ended up in a duck pond up to my knees in cold water and what I suspect to be quicksand to retrieve the ball that Captain Thoughtful kicked in there. On the bright side, it totally counted as a home run so that part was worth it. On the other bright side, Grammy didn’t play at all, so I didn’t lose to her which is what matters the most.
On the brightest side. Grammy has given me her blessing to start blogging about her again after she read my post about playing her in kickball. The exact conversation went something like this…
Grammy: Your Mother read me the post you wrote about me.
Me: See, the thing is, Mom made that up herself. I had nothing to do with it. My blog got hacked. It was probably terrorists.
Grammy: It’s ok! I loved it!

Me: Oh. Yeah, in that case, I totally wrote it.
Grammy: In fact, I think you should blog about me more often.
Me: Huh. That’s interesting because I remember you saying the exact opposite of that not too long ago.
Grammy: I don’t remember the conversation that way. And anyway, your posts about me are the best ones you write.
Me: Ok……thanks???
Grammy: You should write more posts about me and then someone will finally want to give you a book deal. People want to read about me.
Me: You know something, I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened that way.
Grammy: And when you get a book deal, I’ll be your manager.
Me: Whoa. Slow down a bit….
Grammy: It’s fine, I don’t want any money.
That’s where the conversations stopped because I was afraid to ask what she did want, if not money. Mostly because I think she was going to say “Your first born.” not because she’s Rumplestiltskin, but because she just really wants some more great-grandbabies.