Dysfunction Junction

Yesterday sucked, plain and simple. I had a crappy day at work, I was tired, ornery and morose all at the same time. Best of all, I had to leave work early to go to my Great Aunt’s wake. All in all, not the most exciting day…or so I thought.

The first downfall was that I would have to travel an hour to get there. As someone who does not often leave the comforts of home (i.e. “The Triangle”) this is rather traumatic event in and of itself. The Triangle is made up of my family member’s houses which all fall within a 3 mile radius of each other. We do not bump against our invisible fence unless it is an absolute necessity.

Attending a wake is, so we all met at my parents house to caravan down. It was me, T, Eboogie, Moose, and 3 of my dad’s 4 siblings. We climbed in the car and headed for the Land Before Time, Dysfunction Junction or, as it is more commonly know, Jewitt City. I was in for culture shock.

My Great Aunt was one of three sisters…the first generation of McDougall girls you might say. Although these ladies could out swear, out drink and out party me and my sisters combined. They could kick our asses both in general or just at cards. Not back in the day, but last week. And they are in their 80’s.

Anyway, we arrived in the boon docks to find my 37 year old uncle who can’t do anything by himself, sitting in the parking lot waiting for us. He couldn’t even go into a family funeral alone.

As we were walking in, my sister and I got the distinct impression that we had stepped into time warp. First off, the fashion…there were people dressed in jeans and wind pants at the wake. Leather and ponytails were a popular choice among the men in the room. And here I was thinking I was taking a fashion risk wearing charcoal pants instead of the traditional all black.

I went up and kissed and hugged relatives that I haven’t seen in about 20 years. One of whom had just been release from jail. That was the girl cousin.

Then there was the crazy daughter of the deceased. She actually walked up to a group of us at one point and said, “I just farted, can you smell it?” and walked away. This is not a child cousin. This lady has to be in her 50’s.

At quarter of eight, after my great aunt was eulogized for her penchant for drinking, swearing, smoking and playing cards, her daughter decided to kick out any straggling mourners as it was time to head to the VFW to get a drink.

We declined as we had a long drive home. However, none of us had eaten so we decided to stop for a bite to eat on the way home. The only open establishment in Jewitt City at 8 pm other then the VFW…the Green Onion Pizza Restaurant.

I sat down and opened the menu and almost lost it. I had been craving a hamburger for hours but wasn’t sure I could afford the steep pricing of the Green Onion. I mean a burger cost $2.80. Huh?

Some of the other more impressive prices on the menu included a side salad for $0.75, a $1.75 draft beer, a $0.95 soda or a large pizza for $9.00. I think my favorite was my father who ordered a side of pasta instead of fries to go with his burger. His meal cost $5.00. For me to add cheese to my burger, it was $0.15. We decided the trip was well worth the gas money given the amount we saved on food.

Our nightcap? Mr. Mature Moose mooning my aunt and uncles through the car window on the ride home, at mine and my father’s urging.

Although our trip to Jewitt City was a little bit of culture shock, I do believe that the heart of the dysfunction lies with us. However, after attending that wake, at least I know I come by it honestly. It runs in the family.

By the way, did you know that Michael shit under the bed?

Vacations All I Ever Wanted

One week from today, I will jet set off to smoggy LA to board a ship that will cart my relaxed, suntanned ass (no, I do not sunbathe in the nude) around Mexico for 10 days. I cannot even describe how much I am looking forward to this vacation with 7 of my favorite people in the world.

Now cruises are not my favorite way to travel. The reason for this is that I like to explore and stumble over things at my own pace. Cruises are very structured; you have to be in a certain place at a certain time or else you miss the boat…literally.

However, there some advantages to cruising, namely food. I have a very unhealthy relationship with food as I am mildly obsessed with it. There is nothing better then a really great meal. On a cruise, you eat…plain and simple. You gorge all day and all night, then you eat some more. They even have chocolate buffets. Now whoever came up with this idea is my hero.

In addition to the mass quantities of delectable treats, swanky dress is a prerequisite. Granted, I enjoy leaving my jeans and t-shirts behind and dressing up from time to time. However, this becomes a mild stressor in that my everyday life is not quite fancy enough to warrant a wardrobe worthy of evening gowns and shirts puking sequins. The only logical conclusion is that I must partake in some pre-cruise shopping.

My trousseau has grown by leaps and bounds over the past month. Special Thanks goes out the following retail chains who have helped me to improve upon my mundane wardrobe while allowing me to not bounce the rent check:

1. DSW - for providing me with a wide and spectacular variety of new shoes which will add color to my otherwise completely black wardrobe.
   
2. Ann Taylor Loft – for having all of their holiday party dresses on sale and still in petite sizes so I don’t have to look like I am wearing my big sister’s clothes.

So this time next week, I will be heading off into the sunset, tropical drink in hand and a smile on my face. Although I will not be able to stop off in the Caymans to launder money as I did on my last cruise, I am sure that there will be lots of interesting anecdotes from this trip to entertain my dear readers.

Until then…

Crashed and Burned

I met some of the girls for coffee on Saturday morning after we all finished working. We had our usual Sex and the City conversations about who is seeing who and all the latest gossip. We talked about Boy #1 & Boy #2, Cop Guy, and The Boy; we never seem to use real names. Once we caught up, the topic of conversation turned to a new guy...the one we dubbed The Nordic. One my friends was being set up with The Nordic and asked me to come along as moral support.

I have only ever really been called in to active Wingman duty once before when the Midge asked me to drive up to Mass on Monday night to meet some guy after a hockey game. I had to field two gentlemen that night so she could have some alone time with her man. Feeling that I had successfully accomplished that task, I agreed to take on the role once again.

The plans were derived on Monday while everyone was at work and I was home sleeping on my couch . I didn't catch wind of them until yesterday morning. Mistake #1. I figured I would have plenty of time to head home after work to get cute before heading out. Unfortunately, the plan called for us to meet at a place close to work at 6 pm. There was no time to go home and change. I was was wearing barrettes. I repeat, barrettes...two of them. I looked about 12. This is not usually how I go out.

Barrettes and work clothes aside, I decided that I, as the Wingman, needed a Wingman. I didn't want to be talking to myself if the Nordic and the Pole hit it off so I recruited Palluko to join me. She was scheduled to work her second job but I made her call in sick, even offering to punch her in the stomach so her "sick voice" would be more convincing. Fortunately, she didn't need me to do this as she is dating the boss.

We were the first two to arrive. We grabbed seats at the empty bar, ordered our fancy martinis and waited for the rest of the party to arrive. We started talking about the Nordic. What if he was a big dork or hideously unattractive? As we often do, we started off on a tanget on the subject. Somewhere in the middle of our tirade, we noticed that a gentleman had joined us at the bar.

Since we were the only three in the small bar, we smiled at him and went on with our conversation. About five minutes later, one of the girls arrived and promptly introduced us to the gentleman. Apparently he was there to hang out with us as well. Palluko and I were both mildly embarrassed by this but figured it wasn't a big deal. We assumed this gentleman was Cop Guy, the guy my friend is seeing.

Here is the problem with nicknames. We didn't realize our mistake right off the bat because we did not know the Nordic's real name. We only knew him as the Nordic. About an hour into the evening, we started getting testy. Where was this guy? How dare he keep my friend waiting or even worse, not show? We voiced our concerns and were met with blank stares. This was the Nordic. What was the matter with us?

After we laughed for about 20 minutes about our case of mistaken identity, we decided to leave the detective work up to the Nordic and Cop Guy. We may be the worst wingmen ever.

The 589th Reason Why…

The 589th reason why I am single is because of my dad. Not because he is some big scary man who runs guys off. In fact, in all my years of dating, he only flipped one guy upside down and threatened his life. And that was in 8th grade. And he only ever employed his posse of hardened Teamsters once or twice in an attempt to intimidate potential suitors.

The actual reason my single status is all his fault is because he spoils me rotten. There is no way any man could ever do more for me then my dad. When I was in college and broke, he would send me care packages containing contraband cases of beer he hid in the trunk from my mother. The reason for the beer was twofold; one, I could save money by not having to buy it and two, I could make money by selling it to the drunk kids who knocked on my door at 4 am because they had run out.

I have this quirk about airports since I am in one once a month. I always get sad upon returning home as my arrival is anticlimatic. I get off the plane, get my luggage, catch a shuttle to my car and drive home to an empty house. It is fairly depressing. I am always jealous of those people who have family and friends waiting for them with flowers or balloons just to let them know how much they have been missed.

After dating someone for six years who never once came to pick me up at the airport, I got a little bitter about the whole thing. However, I love to be there waiting for my loved ones because I know how it would make me feel. Anyway, I mentioned this random fact to my father when we were waiting for Pooh to come in from Cali at Christmas. I was just making conversation, he was taking notes.

My plane landed Monday night at 8:30 p.m. I headed down to baggage claim to get my suitcase. To my surprise, my father was waiting down there for me carrying a bouquet of flowers and a homemade spinach pizza. Being the sap I am, I cried.

Then he and my mother drove me to pick up my car, put my suitcases in the trunk for me, hugged and kissed me and headed back home. They had only come for one reason, to make me smile.

This simple gesture made my week. Right now, even thinking about it made me teary. When someone loves you enough to know the one special thing they can to do make you smile, there is no better feeling in the world.

So thanks Dad for being such a wonderful man and ruining me for any future men who could never live up to the standard I have grown accustomed to. You are the man.

Not So Giant Effort

It is with sadness that I must say goodbye to the 2005-2006 football season. Unfortunately, my Giants did not put up a noble effort in yesterday's game. Instead they seemed content to roll over and play dead. Apparently in a fight between panthers and giants, panthers prevail...hardcore.

I can handle a loss, but a loss with such a pathetic effort is hard to take. Especially given their hard fought season. I am disappointed to say the least.

However, I am happy that my season was extended into January instead of having my hopes dashed by November as in past Giant seasons. They actually gave me something to look forward to on Sundays this season. Now the wildly optimistic McDougall no longer has to worry about how to watch the Superbowl from the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

So I guess I am saying thanks guys. I'll miss you.

Withdrawal

I am suffering from withdrawal and it ain't a pretty sight.

First and foremost, I am in complete food withdrawal. I indulged all through the holidays as I am supposed to. However, the holidays have come and gone and I am still eating like Pac Man on crack. I can't eat Oreo cookie ice cream cake for dinner any more. And it is so depressing. Yesterday, I had to pass on homemade Mac & Cheese AND peanut M&M's. That took some serious willpower since those are my two favorite things in the world.

Next, I am in dance withdrawal. I love to dance. Normally, we hit up some place where I can show off my skills at least once a month. Not the case lately. Thus, I have excess dance energy with no outlet. This results in the phenomenon dubbed by my family Spontaneous Fits of Dance. These outbreaks have been occurring in the most random of places such as my office, my car, my bathroom, Happy Hour and most notably Homegoods. This can often get me into trouble as I don't even realize I have broken into spontaneous dance until someone catches me in the act.

Thirdly, I am in withdrawal from open toed shoes. This normally occurs sometime in March after months of boring footwear. However, I recently bought the most perfect open toed shoes ever that I am completely obsessed with. And I cannot wear them. It is torture. The only bright spot here is that I can wear them next month in sunny Mexico.

Finally, I am in withdrawal from my family. This may seem weird seeing as we all live in a 3 mile nucleus (except of course for electron Pooh who is orbiting out in Cali) But during the holidays, I got to see my family every day. Plus, add in the Christmas Card Competition and I was getting daily phone updates. Now that it is January and work has stolen my soul for the next 3 weeks, I no longer get to see the fam daily. It makes me sad, especially because I have to turn down dinner invites.

Ooh...good song. Gotta dance.