Monday, April 16, 2012

Weird Sh*t Goes On Around Here All the Damn Time

I live with a couple of my mother's sisters. I don't have a husband or children so these women are, for all practical purposes, my family. I have a mother, but she doesn't come around very often cause we're weird. For instance:

We Have Far Too Many Damn Mugs

Just to be clear, we have this many mugs:

That's not even all of them, I might add.

And for some reason, people (not me, THEM) keep buying more mugs. As if we needed them. Every time someone brings home a new mug, they say, “There's no damn room in here for this mug!” Every time.

The House is as Hot as Hell Itself

Seriously, it's over 80 degrees in here right now. I've got my windows open and the fan on and it's like, literally freezing outside but it's figuratively boiling in here.

It's because we have a coal furnace and it's really easy to overheat the house when you're burning coal. But hang on, wait a minute...

Why the Hell Do We Have a Coal Furnace?

It's 2012, who heats their house with coal anymore? Is this A Christmas Carol? Are we Bob Cratchitt? I didn't think so. Where the hell does the coal even come from?

Yes, I know it comes from the coal mine, shuddup. Apparently, you can still buy coal for your own personal use. Who knew.

Nothing says "Appalachia" like having your own coal bin.

The Blender is, Like, a Million Years Old

Now, I don't mean to make it sound like I'm picking on one particular household appliance, at the exclusion of all the others. Except I am, cause all the other appliances are fairly new and in good working order. It's just the blender that appears to be a time-traveler from 1978.

Hey baby, what's your sign?

It doesn't work terribly well anymore. I guess blending things is not a priority.

There Are BIG F*CKING SNAKES in the Basement, I Guess

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting up in my room working quietly away, and the aunts were down in the basement cleaning out about fifty years' worth of my grandparents' stuff, which they won't be needing anymore on account of being dead. The neighbor boy, Nick, was down there helping them. I could hear them talking cause they're loud as hell and the floors are thin, although I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but it probably wasn't that interesting, anyway.

The afternoon wore on in this manner until shrieks of “SNAKE! SNAKE! GET RID OF IT, NICK!!” commenced. I was glad Nick was there because f*ck wrangling snakes.

Later, they were quick to assure me that it wasn't a big deal, only a THIRTY-FOOT PYTHON that crawled in through the window.

By "thirty foot python" I mean "small black snake." Naturally.

Seriously though, the snake gets bigger every time they tell the story. It must be a mile long by now.

I've come to eat your children, sssssssssssssss.

Also, Severed Heads

I walked into the “sewing room” the other day to find this lying on the table:


Okay, it's only a teddy bear head, but it's still pretty freakin' creepy, dude.