Only childom in 6 hours....
So today's the day my brother is going to Europe for three months. Mom is, understandably, a nervous wreck. As she says, Steve is just not cutting the apron strings, he's taking a machete and hacking them off. The good thing, as part of his farewell, we get chocolate cake and Dairy Queen today. Huzzah! He should leave the country more often.
Last night was my dad's concert so I saw both sets of grandparents lat night. My one grandma (my dad's mother) asked me again if I wanted any of her jewellery, which creeps me out to no end. My dad's family s very materialistic about inheritances and stuff like that. Like a month ago her sister died and she was embarrassingly happy about what she got in the will. And the way she was talking about the rush at the estate sale, my dad's side sounds like a bunch of vultures. My grandma was showing off the ring she got at the sale last night... she also got a painting for my mom, not believing that my mother didn't want anything from this dead woman she barely knew. Sheesh. Thank god this trait seems to have skipped my dad (my aunt and cousin were not so fortunate).
Then you have my mother's parents. Hee. We drove them home so we came in for a bit, where my grandma showed us this scrapbook of all kinds of stuff from their wedding she found in a closet. It was so cute. It had her corsage, invitations, wedding shower cards, ad all these clippings about them from the local paper. They're from a small town so it actually made news whenever they visited my grandpa's parents for Christmas or something. It seems totally wild nowadays. The other hilarious thing was this ridiculous poem my grandma's friends wrote for her wedding shower were they called her "Conchita Mageurita Pepita Donnita Jeannitta Moore" (her name was Donna Jean Moore). She couldn't remember what the hell that was about, but it another piece of the puzzle of how my mother turned out the way she did has fallen into place...
Random Quiziness:
You are 'French'. In the nineteenth century, it
was the international language of diplomacy.
It is a 'beautiful' language, meaning that it
is really just a low-fidelity copy of Latin.
You know the importance of communicating
'diplomatically', which for you means both
being polite and friendly when necessary and
using sophisticated, vicious sarcasm when
appropriate. Your life is guided by either
existentialism or nihilism, depending on the
weather. You have a certain appreciation for
the finer things in life, which is a diplomatic
way of saying that you are a disgusting
hedonist. Your problem is that French has been
obsolete for a long time.
What obsolete skill are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
The comment is funny, but French isn't obsolete!
Last night was my dad's concert so I saw both sets of grandparents lat night. My one grandma (my dad's mother) asked me again if I wanted any of her jewellery, which creeps me out to no end. My dad's family s very materialistic about inheritances and stuff like that. Like a month ago her sister died and she was embarrassingly happy about what she got in the will. And the way she was talking about the rush at the estate sale, my dad's side sounds like a bunch of vultures. My grandma was showing off the ring she got at the sale last night... she also got a painting for my mom, not believing that my mother didn't want anything from this dead woman she barely knew. Sheesh. Thank god this trait seems to have skipped my dad (my aunt and cousin were not so fortunate).
Then you have my mother's parents. Hee. We drove them home so we came in for a bit, where my grandma showed us this scrapbook of all kinds of stuff from their wedding she found in a closet. It was so cute. It had her corsage, invitations, wedding shower cards, ad all these clippings about them from the local paper. They're from a small town so it actually made news whenever they visited my grandpa's parents for Christmas or something. It seems totally wild nowadays. The other hilarious thing was this ridiculous poem my grandma's friends wrote for her wedding shower were they called her "Conchita Mageurita Pepita Donnita Jeannitta Moore" (her name was Donna Jean Moore). She couldn't remember what the hell that was about, but it another piece of the puzzle of how my mother turned out the way she did has fallen into place...
Random Quiziness:
You are 'French'. In the nineteenth century, it
was the international language of diplomacy.
It is a 'beautiful' language, meaning that it
is really just a low-fidelity copy of Latin.
You know the importance of communicating
'diplomatically', which for you means both
being polite and friendly when necessary and
using sophisticated, vicious sarcasm when
appropriate. Your life is guided by either
existentialism or nihilism, depending on the
weather. You have a certain appreciation for
the finer things in life, which is a diplomatic
way of saying that you are a disgusting
hedonist. Your problem is that French has been
obsolete for a long time.
What obsolete skill are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
The comment is funny, but French isn't obsolete!