I am in my hometown, on mom's super-fast, really extra speedy computer that by the way--wow!--is a quick one. Honest engine, I typed in "iGoogle" to her search bar and the computer went, "ZZZZZZZZ...wut? Dude. ...Wait, wut? It's only 1:30 p.m., man. It's too early."
Anyway, the funeral was really nice, as funerals go. It really was. The minister talked about Gertrude's dad in such a good way. They talked about how much her dad loved nature; when he put in a pool, he made it go all the way around the trees so he wouldn't have to take any down. He sounds like he was a cool guy--I only met him a few times in all these years of being Gertrude's friend, which is odd.
My point is, my mother seems to have a cold, or allergies, or just really wanted to stick in my craw today, because here's how the funeral went:
Pastor: Rich was a generous man...
Mom: COUGH! coughcoughcoughcough. COUGH!
Pastor: He loved nature and--
Mom: HACK! coughcoughcoughcough.
Pastor: --and he was loved by so many--
Mom: coughcoughcoughcoughcoughcough--HAIRBALL--cough.
Jesus Katie Christ. I was never so distracted in all my days. Finally she got up and got a lozenge, which the funeral home actually has in a bowl for just such funeral-ruiners.
At the end of the funeral, once mom had entered the Halls of Medicine, they played Warron Zevon's Keep Me in Your Heart, which, wow. Good song.
Then they played a special rendition of everyone's favorite, Would June's Mom Please Stop Fucking Coughing.
Oh!
I saw Hulk. Here is what he wore on his date last night, which he went on before he came to see me for sloppy seconds or whatever. Let's all help Hulk with the shoe issue, shall we? Please?
Anyway. So, I guess tomorrow is it. I have to be honest with you. I don't know if I can do this. I really don't. The closer I get to being done with my blog the more sad I feel. I really don't know if I want to give it up. Is that ludicrous? I did, but then so many of you wrote me nice things, and the reality is hitting me and ack. I really don't know.
I mean, I DO know Hulk needs new shoes. I know that. And that mom needs an iron lung. Those things I know for sure. As Tallulah said in Taluprah Magazine: What Know For Sure. Puggles is Stupid.
Argh.
Talk at you tomorrow. I'd like to note that my mother is in the kitchen and has not coughed once while I wrote this.
