Of Birthdays, Grandpas, CNN, & Weasil Email One Liners

27 August 2016

Story #823

R. Linda:

We went to a birthday party yesterday. The couple's twin sons were turning 3, and they, being friends of our youngest, we found ourselves invited to the festivities. Now living with the couple are the wife's parents. The father is fifteen years older than his wife and is up in age. He is hard of hearing, and one must repeat what one tries to convey several times. He refuses to wear a hearing aid, so having a conversation about pleasantries can become quite a bit frustrating, to say the least. He also disappears into his room to read without a bye your bye, reappearing as if he never left. His young "chicken," as he calls his wife Margaret, waits on him hand and foot. She is ever devoted, and he is a lucky man to have her.

At the party were the family and four groups of friends who had young 3-year-olds besides ourselves, and a few teenagers. At times, it was chaotic with so many young children screaming and scampering about the place. Sometimes, we had to shout to be heard, and this shouting at our young ones to tone it down got rather sketchy when the old man would think we were shouting at him.

"Be quiet? I never said a word. What do you mean, be quiet? Do I know you?" He'd point at one of us, and we'd smile and gently shout that we weren't addressing him, but that rather rowdy 3-year-old banging on the table with a heavy toy, making lots of dings in the wood.

We finally got to the cake. It was a delightful affair decked out in rainbow-coloured sprinkles with a monkey (Curious George?) on the side and banana decorations strewn here and there.

Back of Monkey Cake

Monkey Cake

It was as we were all taking our first mouthful of cake that Gramps came out of his room. He saw his wife at table and said, "Margaret, I need changing."

Well, it wasn't hard to figure changing of what. And off they went. I tell ya it wasn't made better when one of the teenagers said to another that the monkey's head looked like a lump of Gramp's s--t. This got the older kids into hysterical laughter, while we adults tried to ignore it all. I don't know how we all made it through cake, but the kiddies (all of them) went outside with the teens for a wet game of Super Soaker.

Somehow, we older kids got into a conversation about the presidential race.

"Is Trump looking to lose?" Our host asked. "Every day he comes out with some outlandish statement that makes his poll numbers plummet, and it happens so often, I have to wonder if he knows he can't win, so he just says what he feels like because he knows he will lose."

This began a discussion on Trump's ego, and what choice did we all have? It will be Hillary or the Green Party, and if all else fails, a move to Canada.

I did not know my 10-year-old had come in from the super soaking to dry off and heard the adults' discussion. He stepped up and announced that if Trump won, he would apply for citizenship in Norway. I had no clue he felt so strongly about the election.

Meanwhile, Mildred, one of the parents of a precocious three-year-old, said to Allison, the mother of another one, that she really needed to go on a diet, but couldn't stop stress eating each time CNN came on.

I joined in because I, too, have that tendency and told the ladies my stress food of choice was ice cream, and that CNN has a tendency like no other news programme for me to run for the cold stuff or worse, the chips AND the cold stuff.

"Oh yeah, me too!" Allison said, shovelling a piece of birthday cake into her mouth. "I get particularly in need of gelato when CNN has the presidential race coverage. I can't wait for it all to be over so I can go on a diet and move to Canada."

Of course, we chuckled, and Allison, being overheard, there was laughter behind us. More adults joined in, and I was reminded of Weasil's new emails. First, it was the "We're all gonna die" emails he fired at me at each presidential candidate mention (see Weasil's Email Terrors - 28 May 2016).  Now, he's moved on to terrorism and natural disasters. I got an email that said, "Well, Gabbie, dere goes me trip to Paris!" followed by "Jeez Gabbie, dere goes me trip to Turkey!" followed by "Holy Moley Gabbie, dere goes me trip to Belgium!" and then, "Jeezums! Dere goes me trip to Italy!"

Though I will say he had a few zingers for Rio as well, "Wots dis bollocks I should stay home from Brazil because I might get me some Zika? Wots Zika? Or, who be Zika?" Then there was, "Wots da worldie comin' to when yer can't use a petrol station rest room in Rio wit out bein' held ee-uppie?" and finally, "I boughtie Amanda a burkini fer our visit ta da French Rivera and now she can't wear it? Is she to go au naturale?" This last stymied me because neither is Muslim. I asked him what was with the burkini, and he said he thought it was the latest in old-fashioned bathing attire spurred on by the fashions of Downton Abbey. I tell ya! Then he said he doesn't get the problem because it covers everything up, so was the French Riviera full of perverts? I ended the conversation there as it was getting way out of hand. But the Weasil wasn't leaving off, he wrote, "Wot happened to no touching without dinner and a movie first?" I foolishly wrote back that France was a very liberal nation, and it took a lot of my energy to talk to him, so I was done with the subject. He wrote back three words: "Liberte', egalite, Beyonce!"

So that's been me life of late. Yes indeed. When I am not sending you questionable works of art and leprechauns strapped to electric chairs, I be bedevilled by the rest of the world around me.

Gabe
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