
Sooo,last night I truly experienced hell. You can have frickin Vietnam,time in prison,serving in Iraq/Afghanistan,being held captive by crazy ass head chopping islamic terrorists,being married (kidding)....anyways last night,I looked into the eyes of Satan himself and almost didnt make it!!
Last night I had to go to visit my senile grand mom at her retirement community...ok,no big deal,say hi,have a few drinks,listen to the same old stories about when you couldnt wipe your own ass and smile, and eat,and be done with it right?? WRONG!!!
So at this retirement community they have a little area that they have a happy hour and musical entertainment (sounds harmless enough)...After last night,I'd rather have someone put bamboo shoots up my ass than experience that again.
I knew I was in trouble the moment we walked up to the door of the place...now keep in mind,my wife and I had been at Grandmoms for 45 minutes already waiting on my parents to show up...and look I know my Grand Mom isnt the sharpest tack in the shed any longer and I understand that she has some issues,but Christ on a bike!! We must have heard over and over again about how she had a funeral she had had to sign up for to attend (8 times) and did we want anything to drink (12 times),and how often one of my Aunts calls and checks on her (for the record,she calls at least every day once,but maybe more than that depending on whats going on...that was repeated 15 times!!)....I will say that by the time the 45 minutes had passed my wife was huddled in the corner like a dog scared of a bad storm...mumbling to herself irrationally about bats and shit,and I had found my grandpops old shotgun and was rigging it to the bathroom door so as to blow my frickin head off....
So back on the subject of this said happy hour...as I stated above I knew I was in trouble when we are walking into the place and there were like 20 jazzy's and walkers outside the door...man I was stoked!!!
There is like wall to wall old people sitting around getting blitzed (kind of looked like a scene from Soylent Green),oh remember the part in the Shining where Shelly Duvall is running around the hotel and runs into the ballroom and screams because she see all the corpses sitting in there?? Well that was happy hour!! And there is some younger guy (compared to the rest of the old coots) plays piano and sings a bunch of songs from like 1930 (never heard any of them,except the theme song from The Bad News Bears...but they said its called the Overture of 1812 or some crap like that),well he was nice enough to point me and my wife out of the crowd (thanks a lot asshole!!) and he kept asking some questions that I was like just thinking to myself...dude just go away,I dont even want to be here dude!!
My wife is under the table by now shitface after drinking 5 double shot rum in cokes in 15 minutes and she has the table cloth over her head and sounds like that lil gay dude Chris Crocker just screaming "Just Leave Us Alone!!" And this dude starts playing the most godawful elevator version of the Beastie Boys you'll ever hear!!! All this is going on while my Grandmom has been repeatedly over and over telling me how the place wasnt that bad and there werent that many old people there.... and all I could do was smile a fake smile and grind my teeth,and wonder if it really would hurt to stab oneself in the eye with a dessert knife....
SOOO...Finally happy hour ended and it was dinner time!! Only an hour to go!!! Well this is when "Bitchy" Grandmom made an appearance (my wife would say that there isnt any other type). We had just been seated and my Grandmom had just stated that it felt sooo nice in there...two seconds later she is screaming at the top of her lungs over and over again how its too damn cold and she doesnt like it and she's gonna move!! (KAWW!!)...The servers are trying to be comforting to her and Grandmom starts wondering around the dining area looking for the perfect table....finally she found one,and went and had the tables rearranged.
Now by this time I'm sooo ready to get the fuck out of there....Everyone orders steak....I try to eat a 12 oz steak in two bites...Grand Mom complains some more about the steak and that no one washes their hands in food prep and that she saw the server hocking up loogies on the food....sigh...
We finally finish eating and the server asks if we want dessert?? (Hell Fuckin No!!!) And the wife and I peel the hell outta there....Grandmom probably has already forgotten that we were there...so that means I'll get a call in about two days from here asking if we want to come down to happy hour because we would really like it if we went....
Oh and as an added note I think my Dad hanging around my Grandmom has some of her senility rubbing off on him...because after about 45 minutes...he was saying "huh" and repeating stuff he had just said over and over and over and over and over again....
So the moral of the story is this ,if you have the choice of locking yourself in your garage with your car running and choking on carbon menoxide,or having a "lovely time with the Grandmom at happy hour"...go with the garage!!!