C-c-c--choppy narratives.

its like the opening cinematic scene in a low budget indie movie. It's raining. It's dark. I'm driving alone becoming increasingly nostalgic and creating a past that didn't necessarily exist and consequently deeply yearning for its ideal perfection. But. Problem is, its hollow, since in reconstructing my own memories, they are falsely & intricately put together. They're not true. Things around me pretty much look something like the picture to the left. I'm not a mellow dramatic egotistical asshole so I steer clear from the "holy shit, white person having an psychological & emotional crisis" moment and instead, I turn on the radio. Ok, ok, I know I'm a cliche. And I'm making a blog entry centered around things I think are funny. Meh.
Somehow, I come across Elton John's "Rocket Man" on the radio. On the dial it was in between two popular country radio stations. And, oh, it was perfect.
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I heard the most embarrassing story today (to which I will leave totally anonymous) My friend, ANONYMOUS , got a call from her mom telling her to come to a superbowl party. She arrived halfway into the game with everyone way past being halfway drunk. Her mom stumbled out of the bathroom with all of her pants and underwear dangling around her ankles into a crowded room. Dead Silence. Her Mother's Vagina. Naked. In front of everyone. Holy. Fucking. Shit. What do you say in a situation like that? I mean, really. This was also the same ANONYMOUS that had a 40 yr old female roommate that was totally obsessed with Donnie and Marie. Ha. Seriously? Donnie? Marie? ach.
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the following conversation took place between my 83 yr old grandfather and my 86 yr old grandmother in their old person patterned living room
(note: Sprague is where men pick up prostitutes)

"Peter, what are you going to do for the hour I am at the hand therapist?"
"I was thinking about going to Home Depot. (pause) and visiting my girls down on Sprague"
"Well, you certainly will be longer than an hour"

My grandmother also said the following in regards to bartering with my father:
"Well, lets just take the dinner bill off of the snowblower cost. A tit for tat deal"

"I don't mind doing tit for tat but I've always thought tat for tit was a bit more fun"

I've learned to NEVER, I mean NEVER discuss politics with my grandfather. He's a New York absolutist with the aggressive verbal pouncing of a young spry mountain lion. With the east coast accent to match.

And this, folks, is why I drive 7 hours to see these people and wake up at 520 am to drive back.