It's cold here in the burgh, or should I call it the BURRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, maybe not. That was the closest I have come to a hack joke in a while. I woke up this morning and it was cold. Dante spoke about a layer of hell being ice. I think we have entered that layer. The world didn't end and I am actually okay with that. The descendants of the Mayans said it was a hoax. Still, it is cold here.
My mom informed me we were going Christmas shopping at the mall. She asked what I wanted. I told her World Peace. She said, "April, I don't think they sell that at South Hills Village." Then off we went.
We got to the mall and everyone and their mother had the same idea. Our assignment was to get something for my grandfather. Then of course matching Christmas outfits for my mom, my sister Skipper, and myself. My mom and I have two different shopping styles. We are both Libras but it comes out at different times. My Libra comes out in my quest for creativity and social justice, hers comes out in creativity but also indecision. What I mean is, I know what usually will work and what will not by looking at the outfit. My mother on the other hand tries on most of the store and then still can't decide. So she dropped me off at NY and Company to pick out the Christmas outfits while she went to the vitamin store.
I saw a black sweater that was perfect along with two runners up, one purple (Advent Theme) and one Christmas silver. The purple advent I got for me and the silver was too much work. The black would go perfectly with stretch pants, a belt and heals. So my mom came back, I tried them on and presto! She loved it. Then she went to do another errand and I picked out a red belt and stretch pants for the three of us. None of us are over five four, Skipper and I hitting it on the mark while my mother is less than five feet, so the challenge was finding a smaller size. But it was accomplished. My mom liked the belt, the earrings, and everything else.
So we get in the car to go home. Skipper and my dad are waiting. My sister is doing whatever she is doing, her shopping done, and my father is working. But we can feel them getting hungry.
On our way home we get behind the car from hell with the retarded driver possibly on medical marijuana. He is moving slow and my mom honks at him. The moron proceeds to move at bottom speed and then this kid who looks like Ralphie from A Christmas Story
looks back. I told my mother to stop honking, it was only going to make them go slower. The morons would not speed up and I would tell that they were talking about us. So my mom, pissed as ever, lays it on the horn and starts honking. So these assholes are now in asshole mode and stop in the middle of traffic as to try to get my mother to run into the backs of their car and possibly sue her. Actually, they werent that smart, they just wanted to piss her off.
Now I am mad. I am really mad. Sure my mother is a rage driver but no one messes with her. The Brucker's are like the Bundy's, no matter how insane we always back each other's play. So I roll down my window and like a woman of dignity begin spouting profanity at these dickwads. I scream, "YOU LOW PLAYING MUTHERFUCKERS, YOU ARE FUCKING LUCKY YOU ARE HIDING BEHIND THE WHEEL OF YOUR CAR!!!!!" Then I proceeded to scream their license plate number as I copied it down. They sped away from us ASAP.
I asked my mother what we were going to do with the plate number. She said just keep it. I proposed slashing their tires. She proposed hiring a hit man. I pointed out that a hitman would be costly. She said she didn't have that money. I also pointed out that they were a pain in the ass because you had to pay them before, and after, and hoped that they didn't sing like a songbird if the job got screwed up. Plus if she found God in this holiday season and cancelled the hit they might take her to court like the one in West Virginia did. My mother agreed. There would be no hit men. This was all just too messy.
Well I am safely back in the nest with my new outfits and look better than those morons in front of us ever would.
Tonight we are going to church and then to visit my Mema in a nursing home. She is not happy about being there and was letting my dad know about it earlier. It has nothing to do with her noncompliance with any doctor's order whatsoever mind you. To top it off her bottom dentures have disappeared and no one can find them. But she was screaming at my dad. After the car ride home I can only think, "She is mad, she is old, and she is missing her dentures. Tony Soprano's mother was in the same boat. She hired a hit man. Watch out dad."
And then to decorate the tree and Christmas cookies.
Move over Griswalds. The Brucker's are in town.
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102