Putting The Fun In Funeral

Sometimes I'm a little slow when it comes to blogging. I usually have two or three ideas practically written in my head, but I can't do anything about it until I have a title. This should have been posted Friday night, but you had to wait because I can't finish until I know where to start. That out of the way, we can begin.

I had promised my mom awhile back that I would visit one week day sometime so I could go and help her pay for her funeral. Some of you may think that's a little morbid, but dear old mom and I pretty much have the same views on death. Ain't no use in crying over the dead. They're dead, your not, so keep on living. That and everybody dies sooner or later. Don't misunderstand me, I'll miss the old gal when she's gone but it's coming someday and I'm alright with her paying for it so I don't have to. Plus it leaves more room on her credit cards for me to play with after she's gone. Put you orders in now if you see something on Home Shopping Network that you've just got to have.

I got up early Friday and drove to The Patch with T3. We arrived around noon just to find out that the funeral home had a service at 1:00 so they couldn't take care of us until 4:00. We sat around mom's house for awhile waiting and chatting. T3 eventually got hungry so I paid him $5.00 to go inside and tell his grandmother "I'm hungry old woman." It was worth every penny. After lunch I went to the local video store and ordered a movie she's been wanting and we drove around until it was time to hit the parlor. I haven't had that much fun in a long time. The parlor, not the drive.

Funeral Lady: "Can I help you?"
Mom: "I have an appointment."
FL: "You're the pre-need?"
Mom: "I don't know. What's a pre-need?"
FL: "We have two kinds of customers. Pre-need and need now."
Mom: "Well since I'm not dead, I guess I'm a pre-need."

Mom cracking jokes a the funeral home. That's my cue.

Trash: "Explain pre-need."
FL: "Pre-need means purchasing the funeral in advance."
Trash: "Why need? Why not pre-pay? She doesn't really NEED a funeral. I could always just buy a shovel and dig a hole in the woods."
FL: "Well that would be illegal."
Trash: "Only if I got caught."

Funeral lady looked at my mom.

FL: "Burial or cremation?"
Mom: "Cremation."
FL: "Will you need an urn or box?"
Mom: "Neither."
FL: "By law the ashes must be kept in an urn or box unless you're going to scattered."
Mom: "I'll be scattered."
Trash: "where do you want me to dump you?"
Mom: "I was thinking a nice garden somewhere. What do you think?"
Trash: "I think along the road on the way back to Austin. The less time I spend doing this the more time I can devote to spending your money."

I looked at the Funeral Lady.

Trash: "So do you just hand her over in a take out box or a paper bag or something?"
FL: "No. The ashes are in a plastic bag inside a plastic box."
Trash: "Is there ever any pieces of bone left?"
FL: "It could happen. Why?"
Trash: "I was planning on making a necklace to remember her by."
FL: "Ma'am. Did you want a service?"
Mom: "No. There's no sense in wasting money?"
FL: "What if your family wants something to remember you by?"
Trash: "I'll video tape me dumping her ashes along the road, singing Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead."
Mom: "You better not sing that."
FL: "That was cruel."
Mom: "I don't care about the song. He just can't sing worth a damn."
Trash: "Could we get a cheaper rate if I drove her to the crematorium my self? I could just prop her up in the passenger seat."
FL: "That's not possible the body must be transported in a cremation casket."
Trash: "OK. I have a truck, I could just slide it in the back."
FL: "Sir there is no way for you to transport the body."
Trash: "What if somebody else is getting cremated on the same day. Can we dump them in together and split the bill?"
FL: "SIR. The cost is the cost. It is not possible to lower it and it's illegal to cremate two body's together."
Trash: "Only if you get caught."
FL: "Ma'am, are you sure you want him to handle your affairs?"
Mom: "He's the best one for this job."
Trash: "Y'all don't burn the cremation caskets, do you?"
FL: "No."
Trash: "Would you be willing to sell one?"
FL: "Why?"
Trash: "I want to turn it into a coffee table and keep her ashes in it."
FL: "Why would you do that?"
Trash: "So I could throw myself across it from time to time screaming WHY, MOMMA, WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE."
FL: "I can't sell you one."
Trash: "OK. How about a used hearse?"
Mom: "You are definitely crazy."
Trash: "Well I did come by it honest."
FL: "Ma'am, can you please get him out of here?"
Mom: "Yes I can. I feel like having some ice cream anyway."
Trash: "Every funeral should be followed by a chocolate sundae."
Mom: "I guess if I ever die I'm going to miss you."
Trash: "Yeah me too. By the way where do you keep your checkbook and credit cards?"

The Critic

Something happened this weekend that I thought would make a good post. The more I thought about it, the madder I got, so I figured I would just skip it. Then this morning I heard something on the radio very similar to my experience, that infuriated me. So I'm now going to share it with you.

From time to time Jen and I like to pack up the boys and make a little mini road trip for a day, just to see shit we ain't seen and do shit we ain't done. Last Saturday was one of those days. We decided to make a trip to a sort of neighboring town for the trade days (flea market) they have once a month. On the way we stopped in a little town called Johnson City for breakfast. We went to a restaurant called The Hill Country Cupboard. This restaurant has been here for 27 years that I know of. Normally I wouldn't name names, but in the instance the guilty should bear their sins. DON'T ever eat here.

We walked in and the place was empty, yet it took about five minutes to get seated. We sat in the smoking section (since I'm trying to kill myself) which was really the bar section. Not a problem. We'll call the lady that sat us Waitress 1. We gave Waitress 1 our drink order (2 coffees and 2 OJ's). Waitress 2 delivered our drinks minus the cream. We asked for cream and she returned with a 1oz to go container with skim milk. After another 20 minutes Waitress 3 took our food order and poured more coffee. Once again minus the pseudo cream. We asked for more cream. She never came back. Eventually Waitress 2 brought our food and more coffee plus pseudo cream. I had ordered eggs over medium and biscuits and gravy (don't give me any shit, in Texas biscuits and gravy are a way of life and I don't ever get any). I dumped my eggs on the biscuits and gravy as Waitress 2 was leaving. I was looking at my plate and something didn't seem right. I stuck my finger in the gravy and it was cold. This is where I did something that is so unlike me even I was a bit surprised. Normally I'm a quiet kind of guy, I'm not the kind of guy that likes to draw attention to myself.

I pushed my chair back and stood up. I'm pretty sure I looked disgusted.
Trash: "Goddammit."
Jen: "What's wrong?"
Trash: "I'm tired of getting lousy service and worse food."

I walked of to the mens room to wash my hands and hopefully cool off or let Jen handle this, because I didn't need to wind up in a small town Texas jail. After I came back to the table nothing had changed except the kids said their food was cold too. I stormed around the corner and ran into Waitress 4 (are you keeping count?).

Waitress 4: "Is there a problem?"
Trash: "You bet your ass there is. I've had ice water that was warmer than that gravy."
Waitress 4: "We'll take care of that sir."
Trash: "Yes you will."

Waitress 4 took our food and I never saw her again. Waitress 2 brought our food back, gave us more coffee and pseudo cream. The second time around the food was pretty good, but the service was still lousy.

Now my rant. Every time I go out to eat I get the worse food the cook ever made. Something always goes wrong. It never fails. If by some miracle everything is good, the next time I go back it will be the most horrible dining experience of my life. Is it me? I don't know. Maybe because I'm a rather large guy, they I assume I'll eat anything. I wont. I have temperature issues where food is involved and I'm a very picky eater. I might look like I'll eat anything you put in front of me. It's not true. I'm big boned and I have slow metabolism.

I see it like this. I'm giving you money for service and a product. That service and product should be to my liking. I don't expect the waitress to read my mind or be there the minute my coffee cup is emptied, but I do expect her to check on me from time to time. I also expect the cook to ensure the food is prepared correctly and at the right temperature. I don't think I'm being unreasonable. I know being in food service is a thankless job, well I show my thanks in the tip. I don't figure 15%. I lived in Jersey long enough to know how to tip. I've had meals where the tip was bigger than the bill because I got great service. Then I've had meals like last Saturday. I hope she doesn't spend that dollar all in one place.

Now before y'all go crazy in the comments telling me what happens to food when it gets sent back, let me tell you I'm well aware of the stories. In fact this morning on the radio they had waiters, waitresses and cooks calling in confessing to their crimes. That's what pissed me off. I know Bubba the cook may have had Paco the dishwasher spit in the gravy, but this was a small town restaurant so I think it's less likely, plus I inspected the food. Normally I only send food back through the manager, with a warning. I like to think managers are above that sort of thing since they are semi-professional people.

I've decide from now on I'm going to name names, give addresses or whatever I have to do to bring attention to these people. I'm not taking it anymore (not that I ever did). When I pay you for a service, I expect good service, When I pay you for food, I expect good food (McDonald's is excused from that last statement, they couldn't serve good food it their lives depended on it). If I'm handing you money for anything you can bet your sweet ass I'm going to get my moneys worth, or your job. It's your choice.

Discrimination: Keeping The Cracker Down.

My people, I have discovered a conspiracy. A conspiracy of the worst kind. This one is designed with our children in mind. It's not being perpetrated by the government, but by big business. A business aimed at our beloved little ones. A business that's trying to show our babies that white is not good but all other colors are, by packaging a delicious treat with a rainbow full of colors representing every race but the white one.

That's right, I'm talking about those fucking M&M's. I opened a package and all I saw, was Mars Corp trying to keep whitey down. It doesn't stop at M&M's either, there's also Skittles and Starburst, but I'm focusing on the chocolatey demon treats.

Let's examine a bag. Run down to your corner store a steal a bag (don't buy one, you'll be feeding the corporate machine) I'll wait.

Good you're back. Tear it open. Gaze upon the evil.

What have we here?

First the black/dark brown M&M representing the blacks, african Americans, afro-Americans, people of color and hispanics, latin Americans, latino Americas, and illegal aliens.

Second the yellow M&M representing the orientals, asians, asian Americans, Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, Koreans, Vietnamese and Jethro.

Third the red M&M representing the Indians, native Americans, redskins, hethens, and scalp takers.

Fourth the orange M&M representing all the people of mixed ancestry, because lets face it, their color is a little bit off anyway.

Fifth the green M&M. Even the fucking Martians got a M&M

Lets not forget the blue M&M for the people of the lost city of Atlantis.

See what I'm getting at? Everybody got a fucking M&M except the white man, honkey, cracker, and redneck. It doesn't matter what flavor of M&M you bought, they're all the same. They're all keeping the white man down. Where's Jesse Jackson now? Where's Reverend Al Sharpton? Where's Louis Farrakhan? Where are all the people screaming for equality? For it's true we are not equal and we never will be as long as there's not a white M&M.

Ray Nagin says he wants a chocolate city. I say he doesn't need to look any farther than a bag of M&M's.

Ode To Jen

Once again it's that time of year.
I write a poem, hope I don't sound queer.

This I write for you; my wife.
I am the love of your life.

You have curly hair and eyes of green.
You're real damned pretty and kind of mean.

Lips that were made to pucker.
First time I saw you I thought " I want to fuck her."

You cook my breakfast, lunch and dinner.
You're smart enough to know you caught a winner.

You make up beds and pick up toys.
You take good care of my boys.

You feed the snake and wash the mutt.
I really like to look at your butt.

You love me though I'm paranoid.
You know I'm here to fill the void.

Life without me woudn't be the same.
In fact it would be boring and lame.

I like it cold and you love the heat.
You don't mind when I make fun of your feet.

We've been together through thin and thick.
You make sure I don't get too sick.

You wash the clothes and clean the house.
You even give the snake a mouse.

All these things make you perfect to me.
I'll be back, I gotta pee.

Sorry about that, didn't mean to make you wait.
I think you picked a hell of a mate.

I hope you don't find my poem stupid.
If I ever catch him, I'm going to kill Cupid.

So there you have it. Happy Valentines Day.
I managed to write this and not sound gay.

We love you.
Trash, Trash Jr, T3, Rambo, Plisken and the strippers crabs.