January 04, 2013

Things That Make Me Laugh

This happened at work today.

Whenever we have a new group of engineers come in, my boss and I say, "Kindergarten is in session..." We swear these kids don't shave.

Today I was in the breakroom, washing my lunch dish. At the microwave was one of the new young engineers, who I don't know. His lunch smelled fantastic and I said to him, 'Hey. That smells GREAT. You win the 'best smelling lunch of the day" award'.

To which he replied, "Thanks! I'll tell my Mom!"

It was all I could do to contain my laughter as I left the breakroom. Every guy in my room knows this story. I could not keep something like that... to myself.


My bedroom at my parents' home is off the kitchen. That means I can hear people leaving messages on the answering machine from the bedroom.

I wonder how many American homes the following happens in:

It was 8AM, I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling, contemplating my day, my husband had left an hour earlier to go golfing.

The phone rang, the answering machine clicked on and I heard a male voice leaving a message for my Dad.

"Good morning, TGOO, this is Joe Schmoe. I'm calling you to talk to you about the Burns Supper. I need to order the Haggis."

Only in my parents' home.

Cracked me up.


For years, there were certain objects that were hidden within the family. I'm sure most families have these oddities.

There are three things that get hidden, that you might find in your luggage after returning home from a trip to my parents' or that you might find in your home after my parents or a siblings have left.

There are no real rules for hiding these three things, except you can't hurt or endanger them. It's an unspoken rule... we'd never do something like that. You can find a hiding place that can take seasons or years to find.

For instance, one of these items can be hidden in the pocket of a wool overcoat, not to be found until that coat is worn again.

Then again, it can be as simple as unpacking your luggage only to find one of the three objects stuffed in your clothing.

1) The Pitted Dates. My folks will correct me, but in the late 70s we were stationed overseas. The military contracted out a moving company who packed my parents' home in Jacksonville and moved all our stuff via slow boat to China (literally).

We obviously arrived much earlier than our stuff. When the boxes were unpacked, there was a box of Pitted Dates... that had made the long trek from Jacksonville to Taiwan.

And the box got shipped back less than two years later, from Taiwan to Pensacola, FL.

Since then, they have become one of these items you might find in your home... passed from person to person.

2) The Corn Pone. In the very early 80s, probably 1980, TGOO made a batch of corn pones. Nobody liked them.

The one remaining pone, probably just not thrown away, he hid immediately. It's first hiding place was in place of the bar of soap in the shower.

The only problem was, it was wet and started to mold, so TGOO encased it in plastic. It's been hidden amongst us ever since.

3) And last, but not least is... The Indian. As children, we would go to my paternal grandparents' home and play with all the old toys in the old toy trunk. There were legos of the orginal kind, old Playskool people, and odds and ends.

But always inside was the one toy none of us wanted to play with.

The Indian.

I'm not sure who in the hell thought this would be a great toy, a toy that was evidently my Dad's. The Indian looked more like a corpse in a blanket. It truly, verily I say, scared the ever living hell out of us every time we opened the trunk.

None of us, nor our cousins, EVER played with The Indian.

When Mo left my parents' home after Christmas, there were little odds and ends of things they'd accidentally left behind. The realization had occurred earlier in the day that my bro... still had The Indian.

One of the items she forgot, was something she was given at Christmas as a gift from my Mom's sister. Somewhere, somehow, my Aunt had found this ghastly tree topper that used to be my grandmother's.

A silver shell to act as a backdrop, the tree topper is a plastic angel sitting on a plastic cloud. The cloud lights up with the light reflected off the silver shell, I'm sure to make it look heavenly with the angel sitting in the light.

Except my brother dubbed it 'the Farting angel' when we were kids and the name has stuck.

Mo accidentally forgot her new treasure at my Mom and Dad's home, so I took it upon myself, to carefully package it up with... The Indian... and send it to her home in Atlanta.

In the box as well was a can of Coconut Milk. T cannot eat coconut. It makes him throw up. So as a joke, for Christmas, Bones wanted to get T a can of coconut water, except I misunderstood and bought him coconut milk.

It was not going to do... so we got the correct stuff, and I stashed the other in my parents' pantry. Upon looking for recipes to use this sweet milk in, I found really, it's only good for Thai food, which I never make.

So I put it in the box for Mo.

Let us recap, shall we?

In Mo's box was... small items they forgot, a can of coconut milk, the farting angel, and... The Indian.

She immediately emailed us all the following, Subject Line: DAMN IT!!!

I got the Indian!!!! It was staring up at me, just like it used to in the toy box!!! And wait, how did I get the coconut milk!!!! Thatís Tís!


And to get the full effect, here is... The Indian. Perhaps one day there will be a picture of the Farting Angel. Mo has already said that she'll put it on a tree in her home.

You know... Tradition and all that stuff.


We're all about Tradition.

Posted by Boudicca at January 4, 2013 06:13 PM

Love your family's antics! All families need to have this much fun.

And did the Indian hit Mardi Gras in New Orleans one year?

Posted by: Mrs. Who at January 4, 2013 07:05 PM

The Indian has traveled, although not with me. I think he did make it to NOLA.

There used to be this pink flamingo that would travel and end up in various yards, but I don't know what happened to him.

If the Farting Angel were not so fragile, I suspect that it would randomly end up on people's homes with the obligation to use it that year on their tree.

Fortunately, the Farting Angel is permanently Mo's.

Posted by: Bou at January 4, 2013 07:11 PM

Oh and there was the peep. I have no idea where that ended up.

Posted by: Mo at January 4, 2013 11:17 PM

The Indian is hilarious and very corpse-like, you're right... but my favorite has to be the plasticized pone! LOL!

Ah, if only all families were like yours...

Posted by: pam at January 5, 2013 07:40 AM

Indian = s.c.a.r.y.

Our family has the same tradition with a pig's head. Used to be part of a doll, then the bottom part of the doll disintegrated. I fixed up the pig's head with new googly eyes and some hippy type glasses and now he makes the rounds every Christmas.

And why is it I can actually picture the farting angel? I'm sure I've seen something like it before! Mo needs to take a pic and share that with you so you can share with us!

Posted by: Peggy K at January 5, 2013 08:21 AM

You have a co-worker who still lives with his Mom, and she still cooks for him? Amazing.

Tell the little SOB to learn how to cook for himself, it ain't rocket science (although some of my co-workers seem to think it is).

Posted by: George P at January 5, 2013 09:52 AM

Louie seems to have found you. Mark as spam and delete those comments.

Well obviously, that "Indian" was not purchased at Indian Village in St Ignace or any of the other (as my wife like to call them) gyp shops.

Posted by: The Thomas at January 5, 2013 01:42 PM

If that paper in the background is regular 8Ĺ by 11 then the "indian" is larger than a normal Barbie.

Posted by: The Thomas at January 5, 2013 01:43 PM

The spam is killing me today. I deleted some already this morning.

Yup, that's a standard sheet. He's probably a bit bigger than a standard Barbie.

I don't know where he came from. I'm not sure my Dad knows. I'm currently trying to find out from Mo where all the pins came from. They didn't come from me and my bro said it wasn't him either.

Posted by: Bou at January 5, 2013 03:13 PM

The Indian is just about as scary as the clown on the USPS commercials.

Posted by: Tina at January 6, 2013 12:38 PM