Why I’m Nuts; Another Day Shot To Shit

 

So. Today was going to be a wonderful day. I have many things to be happy about and I’m man enough to admit them.

At breakfast just now, I was sitting with Gram, Aunt Hilda and Mother, Gnat (she’s my trusty assistant out to Mooner’s Compost Plant), Gram’s best buddy P-cubed, and this young guy in a Texas A&M tee shirt and boxer shorts The Squirt was sitting on a stool at my side.

P-cubed is Penelope Paxton-Parades, a retired librarian, and mightily pissed puppy over the AISD’s plans to fire librarians to save money. The young man is quiet, and looks scared.

Mother says to Gram, she says,“Oh for Pete sakes, Gram, tell this boy to go put his clothes on. He’s not properly dressed for dining at my table.”

“Can’t find them,” Gram said around a mouthful of oatmeal with fresh figs and honey from someplace in Tennessee. It sounded like she said, “Pfanf phin nuumm.”

Squirt started snickering and whispered in my ear, “Tu grandmamacita es muy fucking funny, Bwana Mooner.”

“Shh,” I whispered back. “If we’re not careful we’re gonna reach the critical mass required to put Mother into full martyr lock-down.”

My mother has already anointed herself “Saint Mother”, and cast her role to be long suffering at the hands of her family. The race to be Saint Mother’s number one cross to bear would end in a tie between Gram and me.

I needed to save the day, so I say, “Hey everybody, I’ve got loads of good news. I got my bloggie comment dealie fixed, well that is to say that Ben the computer genius fixed it, I got finished with my first rewrite of the edit on my book, and look– most of the important women in my life are here with me for breakfast. I’m a very lucky boy!”

I held a hand to my heart and lifted the other skyward to emphasize my luck and good news.

I did, of course, neglect to mention the laundry list of important women not present– SAC Ellen, Reckmonster, Thundercat832, Wonderella, Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson, and more.

Then, I wondered if I might be making real progress when I realized that Wonderella made a fourth place finish in my important-ladies-in-my-life derby mop-up race.

“I’ve got a robe I can give this child,” I said. “Squirt, run back to my closet and bring back one of my UT robes.”

“Si, Senor Mooner. I shall return muy pronto.” Off she raced.

Gram swallowed another mouth full of tasty oatmeal and said, “Well, ya little shitbird, iffn ya’s so happy with yer stuff, whyn’t cha say a prayer a thanks?”

Oh for God sakes, I think to myself. This old gasbag is going to start getting all Baptist lady on my ass. Give me a fucking break.

 “I’ll break yer fucking face iffn ya don’t stop taking the Lord’s name to Maine,” Gram said.

Holy shit am I thinking out loud to myself a lot. “That’s taking His name in “vain” Gram. Maine’s a state,” I say. Maybe that will end this discussion.

Instead, this gets me a case of the evil eye from my grandmother. But I feel too good to be effected much, and I find it hard to take Gram seriously when one of her hopefully-eighteen-tear-old boyfriends is sitting half naked at my breakfast table. This is technically my house, not Mother’s

“Who gives a shit, Mooner. I’m gonna Maine ya fer being all sacroplasty.”

Why bother telling her it’s “sacrilegious”?

Gram drains her glass of grapefruit juice with a hardy slurp, plunks the glass down too sharply and it almost breaks. “Look here Mooner. Little Tinker Bell over there is a diminity student from Switzerland er somewheres, and he a takin a rematical down to Aggie country. I want ya ta be nice to im.”

What in the world have I ever done to deserve this shit. I’ve got a foreign exchange student on sabatical, sitting at my breakfast table in his underwear, and poking his spoon at a bowl of grade-A number one oatmeal, with this look on his face that says, “What planet did I wake up on?”.

“Gram?” I asked “Did you dose this boy with a little something?”

“Well a course I did. You don’t spect me ta go ta all this trouble fer a quickie do ya?”

I started drinking Carta Blanca beer at 8:30 this morning. It’s 8:00 at night now and I’ve finally washed the memory of breakfast from my brain.

Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson asked me in my telephone therapy session this afternoon, “Are you drinking, Mooner?”

“Does the Pope wear ladies clothes and protect child rapists?” I replied.

We spent the fifty-minutes that mark an hour’s passing on a psycho therapy clock discussing why I get all tangled up with so many women.

No Wonderella I’m so fucking crazy. Manana, y’all.

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11 Responses to “Why I’m Nuts; Another Day Shot To Shit”

  1. squatlo says:

    You’re making great progress. You didn’t even mention the fake Michele Bachmann impersonator on my blogsite, the one with the granite countertop eyes and slurpy headjob fantasy mouth… (there, now that I’ve sufficiently baited you back to the vid that’s slowly causing you to grind your pecker off, my work here is done…)

    I put in a formal request at our local Publix for a Carta Blanca distributor to start stocking the right beers instead of all that watery shit with fruit flavors they currently clutter the shelves with. Told them they were losing a lot of customers because their Mexican beer selection was so pitiful. Saw five or six muchachos nodding in agreement as they walked by with their groceries.
    There’s hope yet.

  2. Streaker Jones says:

    Mooner. You needa vacation.

  3. Sy says:

    thanks for stopping at my blog. glad to see your comment thingy is working now…

    – Sy

  4. OOOOH! OOOOH! Supah Fly Girl is ahead of Wonderella in the order of importance! Mooner, I’ve got to hand it to you – you’ve got good taste. LOL. And really, your Gram sounds like a doll. [Chucky?]

    What’s up with Carta Blanca cerveza? Never heard of it. No me gusta cerveza Mexicana.

  5. admin says:

    Reck. Before you take a swat at my Supah Fly cerveza Carta Blanca, talk to former Supah Fly swatter Squatlo. As for my Gram…. love/hate; hate/love. Life’s big dichotomy.

  6. admin says:

    SY. Yes, I had to use a fake name to get registered. But now you know that Smooner ‘sme.

  7. admin says:

    Squat. I wish you hadn’t brought up that fucking vidio. I finally had a date with SAC Ellen last night and we were talking about how much progress I’ve made with that whole Wonderella dealie. Actually I was telling her how good I’m doing. Impressed, but leery, she said, “How about I take a peek at your website and check it out?”

    “Fine,” I said because I know there’s nothing incriminating in recent posts.

    She opens my bloggie on her I-phone, clicks around and chuckles a few times, and then there’s this look that comes over her face. “What fake Michele Bachman impersonator?”

    I want to thank you for providing me with the life fodder for tonight’s post.

  8. I’m going to keep bitching about your comment section until the cows come home…or at least until all of the steers in texas stop being queers!

  9. Damn, I sure missed a hell of a lot in just one weekend! I seriously need to step my game up! lol

  10. admin says:

    Yea, Tcat, it’s been a grade-A bitch. I keep getting in my own way. UGH!

  11. Woohoo, made it to level 4 of 8 : -) Nice write up man….

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