Cranky Sunday

Yeah, it’s Super Bowl Sunday. And yes, I’m going to CALL it Super Bowl Sunday, screw your damned copyright on the words. Nobody reads this blog anyway, so I ain’t worried.

We’ll be going over to Mom’s house. It’s just her house now, ‘cause Pop died. He was looking forward to watching the game with us today, and will be missed.

They’re my in-laws but I call them Mom and Dad ‘cause my parents are both dead. Plus my in-laws treated me better than any of my hillbilly relatives did, except for an aunt and uncle out in Albuquerque, who took husband and I in when our Volkswagen broke down on a cross-country trip a long time ago. They are salt-of-the-earth people who opened their home to us without reservation, and I’ve never forgotten it.

Have to go to a funeral tomorrow. Had to buy new clothes (I hate shopping). So right now, real life sucks.

Maybe I should join Second Life, where everyone lives in a virtual world that’s happy and perfect and nobody is fat and nobody dies.

‘Course I’d probably try to start a bordello (looks like a growth industry there, to me) or one of my hillbilly relatives would find me and build a meth lab, so that’s not such a good idea. I think I’ll stick with real life even with its high suck factor.

Cheers. . . . (raises glass in honor of Pop)