"We're good friends together."

Yesterday was Bill Lang's birthday. I called to wish him a happy one.  Mom answered and she told me that Gram wanted her to pick me up a birthday present since "we're good friends together."  Gram also said that I was a "nice, nice kid." Mom told me I should give her a call.  I told her I would and asked if she could put Dad on the phone.  When he picked up, I sang Happy Birthday in Gram's opera voice. He told me he hadn't heard from Gram yet, which was surprising as birthdays are a reason for her to get her sing on.  (After singing, I asked him how to make chicken without burning my apartment to the ground.  Step by step he told me.  How to defrost chicken, how to use a George Foreman grill.  I made two pieces of chicken and I did not light Beacon Street on fire.  Success!)

Pa Lang, Alabama and me.

I called Gram after talking to Dad and she said, "It's your father's birthday today." The woman is a human date book.  She said she tried calling him, but the "goddamn operator kept telling me to press one!"  I told her to give it another shot later.  She agreed. (She was able to reach dad later in the day, she sang to him too.) Gram then said, "Ooooh.  You'll never guess what Mary picked up for Thanksgiving!"  I pretended my mom hadn't already told me.  "She bought a LARGE cheesecake.  It's beautiful.  It really is."  I told her I loved cheesecake, which really seemed to please her. "I don't know what I am going to wear yet." she said.  This  made me feel guilty, because I plan to wear sweatpants and a hoodie, but if Gram wears her vintage suit, don't I have to dress accordingly? We'll see how the prior night's festivities go. I might still be in the same outfit.

Gram asked what I was doing for the night, and I told her I was going to the movies.  "Whatcha gonna see?" she asked.  I told her I was going to see "New Moon."  She asked what it was about.  "Vampires." I said.  "Good for you!" she replied. Gram probably thought I said, "Umpires."  I can't imagine she would be rooting for Edward Cullen.  We said our goodbyes when she told me I needed to get ready for the movies.  Two hours before I was to leave.  "Love ya Honey Bunch.  Bye now."

Here's video of Gram implying that I am crazy. She does this close to the end.



In completely unrelated Phyllis news, I have been keeping a secret. When I decided to be Richard Simmons for Halloween (a decision made after reminiscing about the days when my mom used to "Sweat to the Oldies" and while doing so, I liked to scare the shit out of her) I started going to his web site every day.  Seth did too.  One day, I stumbled upon Richard's merchandise.  He has a line of dolls.  The most horrifying doll was Webbie Debbie.  This is an excerpt from her description:  "Hi, I’m Webbie Debbie! When my father’s not busy he lets me play on his laptop computer and gosh I meet so many friends! I send e-mails and chat to stay in touch but mostly I look for nail polish. Can you tell?" For obvious reasons, Seth and I became obsessed with this doll.  I showed everyone who understands my sick sense of humor.  Here's a picture:

Who would ever buy this doll?  Lucky for me, Seth did.  He ordered Webbie Debbie for Chris' birthday.  It took a lot for me not to mention Webbie Debbie to Chris as I have been drunk around him a few times and can occasionally have a big mouth, but I knew it would be worth it to keep this secret.  It was.  If you go to the Richard Simmons web site, Webbie Debbie is no longer available.  I am pretty sure Milton Teagle Simmons (his real name) only had one in stock.  I can't wait to scare Mom.  Maybe she will "sweat to the oldies" soon and I can run behind her and wave Webbie Debbie in her face.  I promise to get it on video.

THIS IS GRAM.

I just made myself a chef salad for dinner.  And by chef salad, I mean prepackaged lettuce, shredded cheese and a slice of deli ham.  Last week I attempted to cook a piece of chicken.  One piece.  The smoke detector went off immediately and I almost died from smoke inhalation.  I ended up having to microwave a half cooked piece of chicken. I was surprised when it worked.  I wish I could have had chicken with my salad tonight, but I didn't want to die.

In Phyllis related news, Gram called me last night!  I think it is because I put my letter on her fridge.  Now, my phone number is in plain view.  Of course, I stupidly left my cell phone at work and missed the call.  The message was great though.



I love, "THIS IS GRAM."  I have many 85-year-old women calling me so I am glad she made that clear.  I called her back tonight.  "I called you last night Honey Bunch, but I didn't get through."  We talked for a few minutes.  She asked how my job was.  Twice.  I told her I had a date tomorrow.  She didn't seem too impressed.  She finally asked who, and I fessed up and told her I was actually meeting my Jewish mom's daughter for lunch.  Ilene thinks we have identical personalities so she "set us up" so to speak. I need to figure out what to wear.  My friend Seth advised "nothing Palestinian".  I agree.  Gram thought it was nice that I might make a new friend.  However, she quickly bored of the topic and asked if I had talked to my mother.  I told her I hadn't just as Kath was beeping in.  "You better call her.  She says she never hears from you anymore."  I told her I would and was able to catch my mom on the other line. "Your mother just told me I had to call you." I said.  "I was calling you to tell you to call my mother." she said.  Gram had spoken to my mother earlier today.  "SHE'S ALWAYS TELLIN' ME TO CALL HER.  Then I do and she doesn't pick up!" she yelled.  She will probably never call me again.

Here's Gram speaking in her French accent:

Cheese sandwiches and three-way phone calls

I had a birthday party to attend in my hometown on Friday night.  Due to the time I had to be there, I was unable to take the Peter Pan bus. The last time I took the Peter Pan, I was dropped off on a side street.  When I called my parents, they assumed that I had known there wasn't a bus station in Palmer.  Right, I should have remembered that fact when I Googled "bus stations in Palmer, Mass."  Because of the inconvenient Peter Pan times, I reserved my first Zipcar.  A silver Scion xB.  A car that screams lame.

After driving 35 minutes in the wrong gear, I made it to the party without ruining the engine. Upon my arrival,  three separate people asked if I was dating anyone.  "Yet."  I hate the word yet.  When I told them all, "No."  I was met with the question, "Why?  I just don't understand."  I wasn't really sure how to answer.  What do I say?   I am awkward. I am lazy when it comes to dating.  I like my alone time.  Who wants to date when you can be the 11th wheel at all events? I just shrugged at the time and each person separately shook their head.  I can't tell if they think I am pathetic or I am just a disappointment.  Too bad Saturday's events hadn't occurred prior to the inquisitions.  I would have had an answer.

I spent Saturday at my sister's with the three kids.  (That's "Alabama" on the left, don't you want to just eat her?)  I called Gram around 1:00 and asked if she would like me to visit her later.  She told me she didn't think she was going to go to church as her leg was bothering her and I could come over.  I told her that was fine and I would call before I left to see if she wanted me to bring over a snack.  I finished my laundry and my aunt duties and called Gram around 4:00.  She didn't pick up.  I called four more times.  I was beginning to think I was stood up by an 85-year-old.  A new low.  Finally, Gram answered.  "I've been calling you." I said.  "I just heard it ring!"  Gram replied.  I told Gram that I called three times before. "Well. It didn't ring, Honey Bunch."  Of course.  It's never her that's the problem.  I asked what she was doing.  "Makin' a cheese sandwich." she said.  "With some turkey."  I told Gram I would come over and have a sandwich with her.  When I arrived at Gram's 20 minutes later, she was still making the sandwiches.  I took over.  Here's video of Gram waiting for me to make the sandwiches.  (She doesn't have her teeth in.  When I later asked her why, she said, "I must've forgot."  I get it.  I forget to put my bra on all the time.) The video is four and a half minutes long, but be patient.  There are some real gems to see.



During our meal, I took more videos of Gram to be posted at a later date.  We talked about birthdays, memories and my life in Boston.  Gram also spoke in a French accent.  Once we finished our sandwiches, I decided to clean Gram's refrigerator.  I emptied the fridge and scrubbed every surface and shelf.  Gram sat an inch behind me and snacked on grapes and oyster crackers while I worked.  Every so often, she would remark, "It's gorgeous."  An hour an a half later, I finished.  Gram could not stop gushing about her beautiful fridge. I wiped up the floor then shut all of Gram's shades so she could get ready for bed.  She asked when I was going back to Boston.  I told her I was returning that night.  "Does Mama know?" she asked.  I don't know why she referred to Kathy Lang as "Mama."   I told her that Mom did know.  Gram requested that I call her when I made it home.  I promised her I would.  Kathy Lang also made me promise to call her that night.  Even though she would be at her pitch club.

I left Gram's at 7:00 and made a few more stops along the way.  I was finally on the road by 9:00.  I arrived in Boston at 10:30.  I called Gram to let her know I was home.  Safe.  "Oh, Honey Bunch, thank God you made it."  she said.  "I am so glad you got there."  You would think I had been dodging gunfire.  Not driving 80 miles on the Mass Pike.  She asked what time it was.  I told her 10:30.  "You made great time!"  Gram thinks I went by covered wagon.  We said our goodbyes and I called my parents.  My mom wasn't home.  My dad was and we talked for a bit.  (I forgot to ask his input on what song he would like to dance to at my wedding.)  Then my mom came home.  Around 11:00.  She picked up the phone.  Now, I was talking to both of my parents. Then it hit me.  The next time a person asks why I am not dating (yet), I will say:  "Because I spend my Saturday nights cleaning my grandmother's fridge and talking on a three way phone call with my parents."   I will also add that my parents fake yawned and told me they had to go.  After Kath and Bill hung up on me, I watched an episode of Medium and went to bed.  Next Saturday, I think I am going to see "New Moon." At least I am not going with my parents.

My letter!  On Gram's fridge.  I put it there.

Ma and Pa Lang Have Fangs.

I figured Gram would be interested in hearing about my trip to New York.  She wasn't. We touched on my trip for about 30 seconds, but then Gram switched the subject and informed me she was breaking out "in spots."  I asked why and she said, "some allergic reaction."  I told her thank goodness she didn't have a hot date planned.  "Oh, I know." she chuckled.  I asked what she had done today.  "I worked around the house."  I am sure that entailed her shredding all mail with her name on the envelope. 

Gram mentioned my upcoming birthday.  I told her I couldn't believe I was going to be 26.  "You're getting up there."  she said.  "What about you?"  I asked.  "What about me?"  she responded.  Then she said, "Well.  We're both getting there."  I agreed with her, but said, "We are still spring chickens."  "That's right!"  I reminded Gram of the time when I was six-years-old and she had lied and told me she was born in 1934.  Gram didn't understand that I was simply recalling a memory and said, "No.  I was born in 1924."  "I know,"  I said, "But you lied and said you were born in 1934."  "That's not right.  I was born in 1924."  she said. I am glad we cleared that up.

I asked Gram about my letter that seems to not have arrived.  "I was thinking about that," she lied.  "I Promise.  I will write you a letter."  It amazes me how much this Catholic woman lies.  She gives the Annual Catholic Appeal more money than I pay in rent.  She goes to church every weekend.  She watches church on television (albeit, she falls asleep, but it counts).  I guess as a Catholic you have to do that kind of thing when all you do is lie to your favorite grandchild.  Gram used to go on pilgrimages to Canada.  I will have to ask her about that.  I may tread lightly as she may take that as I have an interest in returning to church.

Because of her recent lies, I am going to ask if she remembers the song we used to sing when she dropped Meaghan and I off after our Irish dancing lessons.  I predict a denial.  A little back story:  We had Irish dance lessons every Tuesday.  They were so awful that my mom had no interest in ever seeing us perform.  My dad didn't either.  Our parents were our biggest fans. Each week, Gram brought us to the John Boyle O'Reilly Club, I would have my lesson first, and while I waited for Meaghan to finish with her lesson, I would sit with Gram in the bar downstairs and scam free food from the bartender.  (It's amazing what dimples at the age of six can get you--Fat.)  Gram talked to the Irish dancing stage moms as Meaghan and I were the only ones whose grandmother brought them to class.  On the ride home we stopped at McDonald's and got sundaes.  Gram always threw her trash out the window.  I was an environmentalist at the time and admonished her behavior, but Gram simply shrugged.  "It'll decompost."  We listened to Irish music or just really bad music, but once Gram turned on to Beauchamp Street, she turned down the radio and said, "Ya ready?" Meaghan and I grinned, and we broke out in song and sang, "Ma and Pa Lang Have Fangs!  Ma and Pa Lang Have Fannnnngs!"  Gram screamed the words and drove to the end of our dead end street so we had a little more time to sing smack about my parents. "Now don't tell Ma and Pa our secret."  she said.  We promised not to.  As we said our goodbyes, Meaghan gave Gram a nice kiss on the cheek, but I always gave her the kind you give babies on their stomach.  I still do.  It still makes us laugh. 

I hope Gram remembers the song.  Maybe we can have an encore.

"Do you know what that word means?"

I feel like I have been neglecting Phyllis. It has been three days since we last spoke.  That and Bichard told me I was slacking on the blog.  God forbid she called me.  However, we all know there is someone out there with a five digit phone number (with three of those digits including the number two) that is getting voicemails from Gram.  Funny thing. I realized she seems much more excited to talk to me if at least 24 hours have passed since our last conversation.

I was in the middle of cleaning my room and packing when I called Gram.  "HI HONEY BUNCH! HOW ARE YA?"  I told her I was good.  She asked what I was doing.  I told her I was packing for New York.  "OH BOY! LUCKY YOU."  She asked what I was going to wear tomorrow.  I told her I was going to wear a suit.  This conversation brought me back to the time I had my first real interview out of college.  I was driving Gram (to Friendly's) and I told her about my big interview.  "What are you going to wear?" she asked.  Same deal, I told her I would be wearing a suit.  "Are you going to dress provocatively?"  I told her that, no, I would not be dressing provocatively.  "Do you know what that word means?"  she asked.  "YES, I know what provocative means.  I will not be dressing like a slut on my interview." I said. (At this point, she was trying to piss me off.)  In her younger years, Gram could really push my buttons.  After my response,  she looked at me out of the corner of her eye and raised her eyebrows. "Well. Sometimes, you dress that way."  Gram said this to me.  The girl who wears a turtleneck and wonders if it's too revealing.   Cut to the same conversation, four years later.  This time, however, Gram did not ask if I would be dressing like a ho.  After I told her my outfit plans for tomorrow, I asked what she was doing.  She said, "I'm just foolin' around with the television, I've been watchin' those westerners."  I asked how she liked the westerners in lieu of baseball.  She said she enjoyed them but there was "too much shootin."  She misses baseball.

We chatted about the weather and Gram was happy because the warm temperatures keep her oil bill down.  I told her that I couldn't believe Thanksgiving was only two weeks away.  "You're not kiddin." she said.  I asked her what else was near Thanksgiving.  "I don't know,"  she said.  I pushed her some more, "You really can't think of it?"  I said.  "Gee, I have no idea.  You'll be engaged?"  I screeched in dismay and told her she had really high hopes.  "Whaaat?"  she replied.  I said, "It's going to be my goddamn birthday!"  Gram couldn't hear that, so I had to repeat myself four times.  "Oh, I knew that."  Sure.

"Well, Honey Bunch.  You have a great time in the city.  I'll be thinkin' of ya!"  With that, Gram hung up.  

Here's some video of Gram on our last visit.  Not much happens.  Just typical Phyllis.  Enjoy.

"How come it's not printin'?"

I called Gram and asked if she wanted to do lunch at my sister's the following afternoon.  She told me that was fine, but she and my Aunt Mary had a funeral in the morning.  Gram said this as though she were a child going to an amusement park.  I told Gram we would have goulash.  The next morning I called Mary to see if she could drop Gram off at Meaghan's as I no longer have a car.  When Mary answered, she was chewing so I asked where she was. "Eatin' lunch at Coughlin's with Gram."  I was trying to hide my annoyance, until she informed me that Gram was only eating a blueberry muffin.  Mary agreed to bring Gram over. They showed up and Mary's first words to me were, "Those two assholes are going out tonight."  I said, "What two assholes?"  She was referring to her children.  I assumed it was because she was worried about them going out on Halloween.  She doesn't really think they are assholes.  Although, I bet my mom refers to me as one from time to time. She calls me one to my face.  When we went inside, Mary was so kind to ask, "Do you have a boyfriend yet?"  I told her, "NO, I do not have a boyfriend, yet."  Then she said, "Who needs one anyway?"  If that's the case, then why ask if I had one, "yet"?  Something tells me that my family has pow wows when I am not around to discuss my lack of a boyfriend.  When I told my Mom that I googled wedding songs to dance to with my father, it took quite a bit for her not to laugh in my face.  And by quite a bit, I mean nothing.  She laughed in my face.  I just want to be prepared. 

Anyway, I was going to a Halloween party as Richard Simmons.  I could not find a brown haired curly wig so I settled on a blond afro.  I was going to dye it, but that took far more effort than I was willing to put in.  I put the wig on and showed Gram.  She chuckled.  Then, I put the wig on her.

I knew I looked nothing like Richard Simmons with this blond wig, but I figured dressing up like an asshole would be just as funny. Kathy Lang lent me one of her Richard Simmons workout tapes.  The idea to be him came about when I told my friend how much I used to enjoy scaring the shit out of my mom when she worked out to his videos.  My mom would be pumping her fists in the air, Richard would be screaming and I would run in and yell "BOO!"  Mom would almost punch me in the face out of fright and I would double over laughing. 

Gram kept the wig on for quite some time.  Until she told me to get her a blanket and turn the lights off so she could nap.

I also had another black wig, but I didn't like that one.  Gram tried this one on too.

As you can see, Gram slept much of the visit.   

I called Gram tonight.  "I'm watching one of those westerner movies!"  she said.  I asked if she was keeping up on the World Series.  She told me she was.  Gram is going to be devastated when the World Series is over.  On Saturday, I asked her who she was rooting for and she told me "The Yankees."  Vinnie was there and she informed him of how her father played against Babe Ruth in 1922.  This is the only time I will root for the Yankees.  Gram will be ecstatic if they win.  That would make me happy.

Gram asked if I was "comin home" for my birthday.  I told her I was as it's over Thanksgiving weekend.  She told me she had to get my a dad a card.  "What about me?" I asked.  "Maybe I already have one for you!"  Lie.  Gram asked if I worked today.  I told her I had.  "Have you made any new friends?" she asked. I told her that my new coworkers were very nice.  I also told her I was going to New York next week.  "Lucky you!" she said.  I asked Gram if she had anything she wanted to say to her blog readers.  "HEH?" I repeated the question.  "What do you mean?" I reminded her of the blog I wrote about her and asked if she had anything to say to the people who read Phyllis.  "I promise you I will write you a letter."  I told her to start writing.  "Take care dear, love ya!"

Here's video of Phyllis with the wig.