Patchwork
To me, that’s what blogging is: making patchwork quilts with pieces of our lives, stitching them together with the strong threads of the relationships we build with each other.
Anyway. Blah blah blah.
Hi. Monty here today. Yeah, don’t get excited.
When Karl brought up the whole “Summer Of Love” idea, I was all “HELLS YEAH, BABY!” because I imagined an LSD trippin’, indiscriminate-sex-having Woodstocky sort of deal.
Then I discovered it was NONE of those things and…well, you can imagine my disappointment.
I immediately regretted my acceptance because let’s face it – if I was any good at the whole blogging thingy you’d all be reading me already.
When I tried to think of something really OUTSTANDING – and therefore better than what I usually post – naturally I went blank.
So instead, I offer you a few old and tattered patches from my quilt.
(click the link to get the whole post)
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Like the one where I reveal what the romance novels DON’T tell you:
10 Things The Romance Books Don’t Tell You How To Handle
1. Skidmarks
2. Morning breath
3. The first time you fart during sex
4. Smelly feet
5. What happens when you fix beans & cornbread for dinner, and then sleep over
6. The first time you have to poo when he/she is at your house.
7. All sorts of body odors in all sorts of places.
8. A little something hanging from your nose (or his) when you’re on a date.
9. Gorilla-hairy backs on otherwise perfect-for-you men
10. First Date Food In Your Teeth
Just the tip of the iceberg, folks. And don’t act like you’ve never felt the anxiety from at least one or two of the things on that list.
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And how about my inappropriate behavior at funerals?
You know that filter thingy betwixt brain and lips? Mine is, and has been, in a state of malfunction since…oh, about birth.
Wednesday was my Grams’s funeral.
We were sitting around waiting to be led into the chapel, everyone chat-chat-chatting away.
My uncle was behind me talking to my mother.
He had a little map of his new property and was pointing things out to her.
UNCLE: “There’s the old house, there’s where the new house will be, here’s a little park area, and two dykes right are right over here…”
I turned around and butted into the conversation: “I think they prefer to be called lesbians.”
Well, Mom laughed anyway.
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I promise the pain will end soon, I’m almost finished.
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Speaking of funerals, I have plans for my own:
…sitting there, I made a few decisions as to what my funeral would entail and I am hereby publicly posting them and MY WISHES WILL BE FULFILLED. Because don’t think I won’t know if you screw it up and THEN you’ll be sorry. You’ll all be very, very sorry.
1. I said to Jeckles the night before the funeral that my uppermost thought was “I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!!”
I wonder how many other people had to go buy some funeral-type clothes like I did–I mean, for me it was either going to have to be jeans or sweatpants and I knew my mother would frown at me a lot.
So for my funeral, I want it to be COME AS YOU ARE. Flip-flops, shorts, tee shirts, jeans, sweats, whatever. DO NOT BUY NEW CLOTHES. You can wear black if that’s what you’ve got, but if you show up in acid green or screamin’ red I’ll be ever so happy.
2. The minister? 10 MINUTES MAX. That’s it. Not one single second longer. Seriously, 10 minutes is way more than enough for a prayer and a scripture verse and a couple of Monty stories saying how groovy I was. In fact, I want someone to have a stopwatch and stand up and yell “TIME!”.
3. While the minister is speaking, I want Amazing Grace in the background. I LOOOVE that song, and it has a lot of special meanings for me. After the 10 minute ministry…well, I’m making an awesome mixed CD and I want that played in the background. The Guess Who, John Lee Hooker, Peter Gabriel, Bon Jovi, Janis Joplin, Paul McCartney…oh, all my favorite songs.
4. While my groovin’ cd is playing, everyone needs to just sit around in a circle and tell Monty stories. As a tribute to me, people should interrupt each other and talk over each other and generally be loud and obnoxious and argumentative, much like me.
5. People should bring their kids, if they want to. Or if, like me, they have to. If the kids are noisy, that’s okay. Except the spoiled little ill-behaved bratty kids who control the parents rather than the other way around, because them I don’t like–and the parents of kids like that need a slap upside the head.
6. I want to start a new game called “Dirty Casket”. It will be played like the classic “Dirty Santa” game, you know, where you can steal someone else’s gift if you want and everything gets mixed all around.
So instead of flowers (I mean hell, none of us will really get to enjoy the flowers, really, except to look at them for a half-hour or so)…bring PRESENTS.
7. And really? There should be party favors. Like the little plastic caskets & skeletons you find at Halloween. I want those put in little bags with candy & stuff. What the hell, it’s a party, right?
Also? My friend Kimberly from Petroville knows how much I dislike chipped, nasty toenail polish, so when I die I have volunteered her (without her knowledge or approval, of course, ’cause that’s how I roll) to be in charge of making sure my toesies are nicely clipped and polished. In I’m-A-Dirty-Ho Red.
I’d prefer it if she’d see to the task herself, because it would make me laugh to think that someone I know was touching my cold, dead feet and making the “I think I’m going to puke” face.
And that, my friends, is the perfect funeral. No solemnity, no hushed & whispery voices, plenty of loud, raucous laughter. Most excellent music (and dancing, if you want). Plus PRESENTS and CANDY.
That’s what I want.
And I damn well better get it.
I’m not even joking.
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And there are plenty more where those came from. Just in case you were wondering.
Now. Sew your patches tightly to mine so that when I’m cold and lonely I can snuggle in and warm up.
Filed under Bloggity Blog, Guest Post | Comments (16)16 Responses to “Patchwork”
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Ewwwww!!! That is so funny. We just talked about both of these things (in the event of your death & your toenail polish issues) at BlogHer.
I will wear a surgical mask with a close pin on my nose and web cam the whole thing. My pleasure
xo
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I’m SO getting an RSS to your blog.
You had me at #3 and #6 on that list, AND the funeral requirements cracked me up! Awesome!
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Ooooooookay! In a weird way I can relate to this. At one time I was living up in Memphis, and a friend of my MIL had come over and asked me to do her nails, so I gave her a mani/pedi including the hooker red nail polish she had picked out. Unfortunatly, this was an older woman who had a weak heart and she passed away the very next week! At the funeral, it was a bit disconcerting to see her perfectly done nails and to know I had done them.{shiver}
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Oh.My.Gawd.
I think you (well, your blog at least)are my new BFF.
I’m heading over there now to pilfer through your posts.
P.S.Make sure I’m on your “let ‘em know I died” list so I don’t miss the funeral party!
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I’m with you all the way on the funeral requirements. Except I want the priest to talk for at least half an hour. I think I deserve it. And there’ll be a banner-sized photo of my Phallus shot above the altar. Would that be sacriligeous? I don’t think so. God gave me what I’ve got, after all.
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Aw Kimberly, now THAT is true love, my friend.
Sue, I’m thinking of starting a funeral home with the tagline “Putting the FUN back in Funeral!”
Blondefabulous – is it wrong that I found your story creepy yet funny?
Nancy – I’m glad you liked it! Pilfer away – plus also I have Girl Scout Cookies, made from real girl scouts.
Karl, you can put your phallus photo up at MY funeral too. Please graffiti it with “Monty wuz here”.
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Great post! I liked the quilting analogy, and those are some funny lists and requirements.
Priests: at one funeral, the priests were doing the 25 Hail Mary prayers in a row, and after 6-7 I leaned over to my friend and whispered: They’re priests, don’t they know any other prayers? Thankfully, people thought we were crying not laughing so herd we were crying.
Funeral requests: My grandfather put in his will that he was to be seated in is favorite chair with a cigar and a beer while the family ate and chat all around him. I still think we should have done it. I suspect my grandfather was a little crazy.
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I’m so with you on the funeral! Although I hadn’t thought of the presents thing. And I know only 1 minister. If he’s around he can talk all he wants because he’s hilarious. If he’s not then I don’t want one.
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I loved this! Hilarious!
Monty, I’ve been trying to read your blog for ages but every time I click through it crashes my browser (yes I use the one that won’t be mentioned) – any ideas??
How can I stalk you if I can’t get there? ;o)
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Mike, it sounds like your grandfather is on the right track. How freaked out would everyone be? COOL.
Penny – I think maybe a stand-up comic/minister would be IDEAL. Do they even have those?
Hi Penelope! I too use the Browser That Shall Not Be Named. Maybe if you use feedburner or bloglines for an RSS feed… ? I’d LOVE for you to stalk me!
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It almost sounds like I’ll have to buy tickets to attend this funeral. Definitely something I don’t want to miss. What date were you looking at?
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I’ll man the stopwatch. And the keg at the after party.
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I think my patchwork quilt has a whole where my crotch is.
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Stephan, don’t worry – I’ll make sure your tickets get in the mail. Hopefully you’ll be free that day.
Finn – those are JUST the jobs I would have assigned to you! Because they ARE the most important things, you know.
Avitable – did you leave it on the floor where the dog could chew on it? They go for the crotch first.
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HA!!!
Toooo Funny!!!
And I Soooo Can relate to your 10 things!!
You a funny funny Gal Monty!
(And can I just say…I clicked on your site to check out your 10 things post, and though it took 5 minutes for my computer to stop having a hissy fit, I was able to (FINALLY) get on your site!) I don’t know why my computer hates your site, but it does!
~ZZ
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People do all kinds of stuff at funerals now that was never done “back in the day”. I should know. I work at a cemetery. Oh, the stories I could tell…
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