God hates me! He really, really hates me!
I used to think that god would punish me by giving me twin daughters. Face it...I know nothing about women. Sure...I was raised by them, and trained by them my entire life, but I don't understand them. They have different plumbing, different ways of thinking (no means yes, yes means no...), and a strange fascination with shoes. What the hell would I do with a daughter...much greater so, TWIN daughters??!?
So you can imagine my joy when the doctor told my wife and I that we were expecting a son. The Myposian Dance of Joy doesn't even come close to what I did in the ultrasound room. All of my happiness distracted me from my initial punishment ideas from the almighty. Who can think about a good smiting in that situation anyway?
Well, it all came back to me yesterday. The Italian grandmother who cooks lunch for us every day at the office (yeah, I'm spoiled) likes to listen to the radio while she works. My office is close to the kitchen, so I can usually hear her radio over my phone, and whatever else I'm listening to at the time. Not a problem, as she likes talk radio, specifically conservative talk radio, and since the only thing I hate more than sobriety is a liberal, there's no reason for me to complain. However, since yesterday, she found the local radio station that deems it necessary to broadcast CHRISTMAS MUSIC 24/7. Local radio in New Orleans sucks. It has for at least 10 years now. Especially if you like anything resembling rock. Not that whiney, self-absorbed complaint shit you hear, or "I'm mad at mom and dad because they wouldn't buy me a Jansport, so I'll write a song and tell the world how I feel, and scream a lot" crap that passes for rock. You can hear that occasionally. Since Katrina, there is no real rock station on the air (not that 106.7 was "the shit") either. So, as I said, local radio sucks.
Unfortunately, it got worse. Some marketing genius decided to blare Christmas carols all day every day from Thanksgiving until the big day. The only thing I hate more than Christmas is Christmas music. Now I'm forced to listen to it while Mrs. Madeline cooks me excellent lunch every day. I could easily ask her to change the station, but she's such a nice old lady, and she likes me enough to give me extra garlic bread for my lasagne, so I don't want to piss her off by asking her to can Bing Crosby. This is where I come to the realization that the great pickle in the sky is a genius. He gave me a son (and a handsome one at that) to lull me with a false sense of security. My real punishment for all the evil I have done in my life is to be forced to listen to sappy music for 34 days.
Ugh...the Catholic church is wrong. Purgatory is not where you go after you die...it's an every day occurrance.
cranky 
No comments:
Post a Comment