I am spending yet ANOTHER weekend in Great Falls (aka Mediocre Falls, Great Dammed Falls, Not So Great Falls, Heads up Charlie Russell's Asshole Falls. . .). For those of you who have never been to Great Falls, imagine a place where 1989 stood still. Where big hair and Bob Segar never went out of style. It is a magical place where mullets, mini trucks, blue eye makeup and meth are the pinnacle of society.
That makes two, count 'em, two weekends in a row in the city of my birth. Last weekend it was a baby shower, this weekend it is the mini family reunion. Mini-family reunion, because there is only a small portion of us that like each other anymore - see previous blog about the racist grandmother and the other two uncles are also excluded because, for lack of a better word, they suck. That leaves two sisters, one brother, and their respective broods. Minus Dr. Pennypacker, how he got out of it is a matter of national security. Fucker.
Oh, hey, it is not all dark storm clouds. . . We will be drinking, it is what we do best. I like to say "Hey, I come from a long line of proud alcoholics." Oh and there will be golfing, it is hightly revered in our family as a practical way to pass the time, and provides hours and hours of conversation about something other than the amazing transformation of racist grandma. We will all be trying to outfunny each other with our sharp as a tack pointed sarcastic remarks about each other's lives (they are very frequently hurtful, but since everyone laughs, it is okay?). There will be video games and barbecues, rousing political discussions, and I am sure a dog or two will be humped. All in all a good time, if you like to drink for two straight days - IN GREAT FALLS!
Poor Hubby, I tried to warn him during our courtship that my family is. . . for lack of a better word. . . effing NUTS. He didn't listen, and now he has to be held hostage in my Big Fat Crazy Drunken Family Reunion. Hubby and I decided a long time ago that the best way to rest up on the weekends is to raft, ski, hike, bike, fish, camp, or exert yourself in some other physical manner so that the work week doesn't take a piece of your soul. Sitting on our assholes drinking and chatting is not exactly our idea of fun, but he is taking one for the team. Damn, I am lucky!
Oh and happy Easter!
P.S. Another funny racist gramma story from my mom. Apparently while mom was visiting her, she said not once, not twice but five times "Geesh, did you ever think you would get this fat?" After a couple of times, my mom said "Hey mom, I am just getting started." Here is what is funny, my mom isn't fat. Not even close. I am going to get her a "Big Fun" t-shirt for the next time she goes to visit.
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