Meh dah
Yesterday evening: Uncle Andy calls us to tell us Grandma is going to her greater reward...he calls us ten minutes later and says "FALSE ALARM!". She's just fine. Good lord.
Today: Dad and I went to Arlington Cemetary...with Mom. It supposed to be the two of us, but Dad feels all of a sudden that he has to hang out with Mom 24/7 so we didn't get to look at Grandma's house as long as I wanted to because Mom wanted to get out of the rain.
It was still there. There's a room over the garage. IT WAS FINE THE WAY IT WAS BEFORE!! They took out the front poles of the house. Cocksuckers; the house looked fine. They gave it a paint job. If the paint didn't look like a crack addict did it, it would have looked fine.
The yard was an absolute MESS. MOW THE FUCKING LAWN YOU SHITSUCKINGSCUM!!! I wanted to cry because they installed a garage instead of just keeping the car port. I loved that house. I loved that little house more than my own green turd shelter.
Arlington Cemetary:
We drove to Arlington. Fuck TOURISTS!!!
If you are going to Arlington Cemetary, take some pride and show a little respect by not complaing about your diseased feet and wear decent clothing. NOT short shorts and noisy flip flops.
We drove down Eisenhower (looooooooooong fucking street in the Cemetary) and turned left on Bradley (named for Owen Bradley). We found Grandad and Gram's grave. I fought tears. I looked over the whole cemetary: all those men. All those people, our boys and girls in foreign lands. Fighting. For what? Freedom? We have that. Peace? Too much irony there.
There was a headstone of a guy from Vietnam. Born in 1950. Died in 1969. 19 years old. He probably needed money for college and had plans for school after the army. Maybe he was drafted, against his will. He probably told his father he didn't want to die in a land he'd never heard of. Maybe his father called him unpatriotic; told him about watching his buddies die in France or Germany or in the Pacific during WWII.
Ack, rant.
The graves at Arlington remind me of dominoes. I just want to kick one grave and knock the rest of the headstones down. I know that sounds dumb, but I've always wanted to do it.
I chuckled at some people coming into the cemetary for a funeral. They had to walk. When my Grandmother died we had a LIMO. :) There are perks to having veterans in the family. :)
We went up to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. WHEN THE COMMANDING SEARGENT TELLS YOU TO PLEASE STAY SILENT DURING THE CHANGING OF THE GUARD DON'T FUCKING TALK AND TELL YOUR SLIMY KIDS TO GO TO THE FRONT TO GET A BETTER VIEW AND TAKE FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY FOR THE FUCKING FAMILY SCRAPBOOK!!! IT IS THE RUDEST FUCKING THING!!! THOSE GUARDS ARE OUT THERE FOR AN HOUR AT A TIME STANDING PERFECTLY STILL GUARDING THE TOMB OF AMERICA'S BELOVED UNKNOWN SOLDIER!!! SHOW SOME FUCKING MATURITY!!!
That's done with. :)
I've been seeing a lot of Guy Pearce lately; on tv. Sometimes he looks like a wax figure and other times he reminds me of a fish.
Mongoose; for the record; I need to show you 'Ravenous' with Guy Pearce. It's a B level version of 'The Undertaker and his Pals' which is like...negative Z level....
Today: Dad and I went to Arlington Cemetary...with Mom. It supposed to be the two of us, but Dad feels all of a sudden that he has to hang out with Mom 24/7 so we didn't get to look at Grandma's house as long as I wanted to because Mom wanted to get out of the rain.
It was still there. There's a room over the garage. IT WAS FINE THE WAY IT WAS BEFORE!! They took out the front poles of the house. Cocksuckers; the house looked fine. They gave it a paint job. If the paint didn't look like a crack addict did it, it would have looked fine.
The yard was an absolute MESS. MOW THE FUCKING LAWN YOU SHITSUCKINGSCUM!!! I wanted to cry because they installed a garage instead of just keeping the car port. I loved that house. I loved that little house more than my own green turd shelter.
Arlington Cemetary:
We drove to Arlington. Fuck TOURISTS!!!
If you are going to Arlington Cemetary, take some pride and show a little respect by not complaing about your diseased feet and wear decent clothing. NOT short shorts and noisy flip flops.
We drove down Eisenhower (looooooooooong fucking street in the Cemetary) and turned left on Bradley (named for Owen Bradley). We found Grandad and Gram's grave. I fought tears. I looked over the whole cemetary: all those men. All those people, our boys and girls in foreign lands. Fighting. For what? Freedom? We have that. Peace? Too much irony there.
There was a headstone of a guy from Vietnam. Born in 1950. Died in 1969. 19 years old. He probably needed money for college and had plans for school after the army. Maybe he was drafted, against his will. He probably told his father he didn't want to die in a land he'd never heard of. Maybe his father called him unpatriotic; told him about watching his buddies die in France or Germany or in the Pacific during WWII.
Ack, rant.
The graves at Arlington remind me of dominoes. I just want to kick one grave and knock the rest of the headstones down. I know that sounds dumb, but I've always wanted to do it.
I chuckled at some people coming into the cemetary for a funeral. They had to walk. When my Grandmother died we had a LIMO. :) There are perks to having veterans in the family. :)
We went up to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. WHEN THE COMMANDING SEARGENT TELLS YOU TO PLEASE STAY SILENT DURING THE CHANGING OF THE GUARD DON'T FUCKING TALK AND TELL YOUR SLIMY KIDS TO GO TO THE FRONT TO GET A BETTER VIEW AND TAKE FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY FOR THE FUCKING FAMILY SCRAPBOOK!!! IT IS THE RUDEST FUCKING THING!!! THOSE GUARDS ARE OUT THERE FOR AN HOUR AT A TIME STANDING PERFECTLY STILL GUARDING THE TOMB OF AMERICA'S BELOVED UNKNOWN SOLDIER!!! SHOW SOME FUCKING MATURITY!!!
That's done with. :)
I've been seeing a lot of Guy Pearce lately; on tv. Sometimes he looks like a wax figure and other times he reminds me of a fish.
Mongoose; for the record; I need to show you 'Ravenous' with Guy Pearce. It's a B level version of 'The Undertaker and his Pals' which is like...negative Z level....