Balloons For Kevin

I’m slowly beginning to be able to write this stuff down without going all completely kablooey. Eventually, I will put down something more substantial that really gives you the sense of what took place in our lives last month. I just can’t do it right now. However, because I am the unbelievable prick that I am and I know that my wife and her family can appreciate my sense of humor, even in the saddest of times, I feel I can at least share how I managed to cope with a pretty emotional event. More on that later.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. Wow, thanks Captain Obvious. And I usually find an opportunity to at least visit if not spend the evening with my own mother. This year was a different. My wife just lost her mother the week after Easter and it’s been pretty rough. I’m not going to go into the whole back story, but my regular 4.2 readers know of what I speak. So, I took the munchkin up to see my mother on Friday night for a little Grammy Time. Then on Sunday we visited with her other Grammy, who is no longer here.

Now, I am nowhere near what you would call a churchgoer but for the sake of my daughter I talk the talk in order to kind of help with explaining what exactly has happened. She’s very smart and we would rather be upfront with what happened.

If we tell her that Grammy is sleeping but will never wake up she might be afraid to go to sleep at night. If we say Grammy had to go away and never come back, she might be afraid of us going anywhere without her. So, we were honest and told her that “Grammy had a boo boo that the doctors could not fix and she died. Her body is buried at the cemetery but the part of her that made her your Grammy is heaven now and that’s why we are sad because we can’t see her anymore.” She surprisingly gets it and understands completely what happened. But I don’t think she quite understands the feeling of loss and sadness she feels.

However, the kid is so her father’s daughter. On the way to the hospital to say goodbye to my mother-in-law we began to explain where Grammy was going. “Now, we are going to go say goodbye to Grammy. She is going to go live with Jesus now.” My daughter then looked up at my wife and asked, “Well, is Jesus friendly?” At this point I began to tear up because I knew that this was it. “Oh, yes,” my wife said, “He’s the friendliest person you’ll ever meet.” My daughter then deadpanned, “Good, because I’ll kick him in the balls.” Both my wife and I were simultaneously crying and laughing at honesty my daughter had with her intentions. She’s not even three yet. Now, this isn’t the first time she’s made that statement and for the life of me, I can’t figure out where she got it. My wife wanted to blame me but I live in a house with her and our daughter along with four cats, three of which are female and the one boy was neutered before we got him. Who the hell am saying “I’ll kick you in the balls” to?

We can always count on our daughter to provide a little perspective to the situation. And that’s why Sunday was another opportunity to smile through the pain. We had been planning for three weeks to go to the cemetery on Mother’s Day and release balloons with little notes attached. We were going to “Send them to Grammy.” Now, we prefaced Mother’s Day with ample amount of warning to my daughter that these balloons were going to be let go to fly up to heaven. She’s a balloon junkie and is very adamant about getting balloons. So, we figured there might be some resistance on finally letting the balloons go. But she did good. She even kept asking my wife if it was Mother’s Day yet because she wanted to “Send balloons to Kevin.”

At first we didn’t get it. Who the hell was Kevin? Of course, this malapropism was her thinking that heaven was Kevin but where she learned the name Kevin, I don’t know. But we kind of went with it and said “We’re going to go send balloons to Kevin, now.” So, as we stood there and released the balloons I found it hard not to find some humor in this moment. I thought about putting an email address on the cards attached to the balloons. Since they were made of Mylar they would probably last a lot longer than traditional latex ones, even at a higher altitude. I suspect they won’t make it very far and will end up no more than a twenty or thirty miles away before they hit something and end up tangled in a tree. But it would have been nice if the person who found these notes attached to balloons were to send a message. So, in that vein my sister-in-law said. “Who is going to write you, Jesus? Do you think he has the email address, Jesus@aol.com?” I said, “Of course, but the bastard will probably try to sell me Viagara.” “Yeah, I got spammed by Jesus. Oh, and now he wants to be friend on Facebook. Hey, everybody. I just poked Jesus. That and he keeps asking me to join his mafia.” Like I said, I can be a prick, but at least the humor can be appreciated. Now, if you excuse me, there is a lightning bolt coming towards me from the direction of Kevin’s. Avenge me, daughter. Go kick Kevin in the balls.

The Power of the Grilled Jesus Compels You!

Part Three in the, If I Were a Rich Man series

As I close out this series, I have no other real words of wisdom or great anectdotal tales of what I would do with vast riches. I merely wish to relate one of my more recent brainstorms on how to make it big.

I have come to realize that there are two reasons why American is one of the greatest places on Earth. The first is that this is the land of opportunity and we all have the ability to create and sell whatever we want in our quest for the all mighty dollar. The other is that there will always be someone out there stupid or crazy enough to buy your product. With that, I give you one of my evil little plans. The kind of sick and twisted idea that only the genius possess and insane lament. In the past few years there has been an influx of religious artifacts appearing in the most domestic of settings. While I'm sure the Vatican has dispatched their forces to the four corners of the Earth as well as Iowa to debunk such finds, the fact remains, we are in the midst of a revolution. One that threatens to shake the very core of our lunches. I'm talking about the appearance of holy and religious images on everyday items. Most recently, the case of the Virgin Mary burned into a grilled cheese sandwhich caught national attention not because of its impact on our dogmatic beliefs, but because someone was dumb enough to pay $28,000 on eBay. GoldenPalace.com, ever the finder of rare antiquities, purchased the snack on eBay back in 2004.

It is my belief that this sandwhich should not be taken lightly. I suggest that it is a sign sent to us crazy bastards to take advantage of this epiphany. However, my attempts to capitalize on this event were met with guffaws and rolling of eyes. It doesn't take me walking around the streets of my town with a sandwhich board to spell it out. The answers are there, bubbling up through the nooks and cranies of our grilled cheese.

I give you the Grilled Jesus.

Unfortunately, someone beat me to it. I suffer from having great ideas but no ability to maket and pitch to investors. This idea was so simple, though, I figured it a slam dunk in the old baptismal font. Just make a mold like you would for pizzelles, but make it in the form of Jesus. What, you feel I'm insensitive? That I should be struck down for my blasphemous ways? I'm not saying create a sandwhich and sell it on the internet as genuine religious phenomena, that would be wrong. I meant create the mold and market it as a novelty item in Spencers. The Church has been selling salvation to us for years at a price. I merely wish to capitalize on the fact that for the most part, people have a sense of humor and aren't taking things too serious.

Damn it, I tell you I had it all mapped out. For only $19.95 plus shipping and handling you can savor the saviour. Put them in the kids lunches gauranteeing them early entry into college. Send one to work with your husband when it comes time for a raise. Why shouldn't we all find a little hallelujah in a hot lunch? Call now and we'll double your order and throw in the book of Psalm Soduku puzzles.

Ok, that last part was pushing it a little, even for me. Frankly, I give little creedence to these Mary on a sliding glass door or Jesus in the ice cube tray stories. But as long as someone out there is willing to pay insane amounts of money for these items, then I should be allowed to exploit their stupidty and say they can remit a check or money order to me at Poophill Products c/o Mongo.

Can I interest you in our Bris-O-Matic It slices, it dices..........yeah, ok, that was way beyond wrong......but admit it, you laughed.