Time After Time!

The entire month of December, or until I run out of them, I'm going to title all of my posts after Cyndi Lauper songs. I've got a feeling I'll run out of them by the end of this post.

Anyway, this post will be a huge letdown to everybody who actually reads this thing all the time because I'm finally going to tell a story I've been talking about writing for a while, but kept putting off.

First, let me preface this with the information necessary to understand what I'm talking about. This story is about my grandpa and his wife and the present that they have recently bestowed upon me. I call her my fake grandma because my real grandma died when my mom was a kid. I don't call her this to her face because she would probably cry or shoot me with her infamous vaginal torpedoes. So, when I say "Peggy" or "my fake grandma," they're one and the same.

I don't talk to my grandparents much because they live in Montana or Arkansas or Texas or Kansas. They live someplace far away that grandparents live. Well, the other day, Peggy called and talked to me. It was longer than it normally was, which makes it awkward for me because my Pavlov-like, telephone ringing-induced erection wasn't going away in a timely manner. She asked me about what I was doing for school. Well, in order to make me feel like I was six goddamn years old, after I told her how I was just about to graduate from college, she then told me to repeat the same fucking thing I just told her to my grandpa. She actually said, "Oooh, why don't you tell your grandpa what you just told me." Then, I proceeded to tell the same information about my graduating with a degree in film and a minor in creative writing to my grandpa who, I could tell, didn't give a shit and probably wasn't too sure which of his grandsons I was.

Come to find out, I hear from my mom that my grandparents really enjoyed talking to me and that they were going to send me something. This is unheard of from them because they never send anything to us for any occasions, and we (myself and my brothers) don't send them anything because, well, because they don't deserve anything. What do they do? They just adopt a bunch of dogs and Peggy whines a lot about how she can't wait until my Grandpa dies. I swear to god, he's going to murder her with a shovel one of these days. He's probably not too strong, but that woman will give you the strength of a thousand old people after she has talked to you for twenty minutes about how she's not sure if the new dog that she just got has fleas or not because he's "a little scratchy and she can't have fleas in the house because your grandpa is allergic to their bites and that couldn't be good, that'll send him right to the hospital."

The good thing is that, on top of this "mystery gift" I was to receive, my mom told me that they were going to send me something for graduating which, she says translates to money. I'm pretty sure, though, after receiving the gift, that they don't actually have money.

This is what they sent me:

It's a watch. Yes. But, this watch came in that box you see that it's in and this box was wrapped in a paper that I lost and wish I could find. It said something to the effect of, "Congratulations, Reader's Digest subscriber! You've won this free watch because you smell like Pepsodent." Maybe I'm wrong about the end, but it did say something about how it was free and they won it. I'll even let that slide. But, come to find out that they won two of the motherfuckers. They won two shitty-ass watches and decided to pawn one off on me as a "gift." The watch is complete shit, too. I'm pretty sure that the bands are actually composed of five laminated Glad twist ties. But, the worst part is the gold face has a fucking Pegasus on it and it's sitting in a canoe or some shit. It's like somebody bought a clipart CD and just picked some random shit and was like, "Alright! Now that's a watch face, fuckers!" Pegasus in a Canoe, by the way, is the title for the new Harry Potter book.

Granted, perhaps I'm being an asshole for looking a gift Pegasus in the mouth, but fuck if it's not the gayest gift anybody has received since that time a friend of mine sodomized me with a rolled-up calendar of Lorenzo Lamas shirtless.

Although, as I mentioned before, my mom says my grandparents are supposed to be sending me money, I have a sneaking suspicion, from this previous gift, that it's actually going to be a three-year-old copy of the Pennysaver-Kansas Edition, and a five-dollar gift book for McDonalds with four of the dollars already used (I've actually seen somebody receive this as a gift from their parents).

Interesting thought of the day:
Harry Potter and the Pegasus in the Canoe hits store shelves in March of 2005. Be there when Harry begins his downward spiral into the dark underworld of mythical beastiality films. Be there as KY Jelly greases up the horn of a unicorn and the series changes forever!