Tuesday, August 17, 2004

The Mimmy Files

It's time to introduce you to "Mimmy". If your willing to peek into my world on a regular basis, I feel you shouldn't be denied.

Mim's is my granny. I don't know why we call her that, we just do. Kinda like hillbillies say Memmaw or Pawpaw. But I'm not a hillbillie (This is a fact, I have never lived in a trailer). Anyway, she just turned 79, and she lives with my husband (Tim) and I. And she's alittle "off". Perhaps it's just the age, but really, I know she has always been this way.

Her favorite hobby is to harass me. Actually, I enjoy it too. It's our communal hobby. We try to outdo each others harassment every day. Don't think ill of me, for harassing a little ole lady (she is little too, about 4'9"). She enjoys this activity more than I. If she couldn't bug the shit out of me, she'd keel over from boredom.

She has a variety of innane habits, which for me, are fuel for the fodder. (You don't get to hear about MY inane habits) For instance, she won't sleep in her bed. She goes to bed every night, but she doesn't sleep. She only sleeps in her rocking chair, during the day, hunched over like a question mark. I love to walk into the room, and catch her sleeping. "Mimmy! Are you sleeping in the chair again?!" invariably, she pops awake and says "NO, dammit, just resting my eyes." Well I hope that's what she is doing, otherwise I'd have to think her favorite hobby is counting threads in the carpet.

She smokes like a chimney. (I won't let her smoke in the house, she'd burn it down) She has always smoked, and refuses to quit. Nothing you say or do will make her stop. Once, I stole her car keys (like she should EVER be allowed on the road, that's another fun tale another time) and kept her "a flocking prisoner!" for a week, refusing to purchase her cigarettes. (She means to say "fucking", but she substitutes "flocking", as she feels its more PC). She refused the patch, and any other type of remedy that's out there for smoking cessation. She says she likes to smoke, dammit, and that's that.

She refuses to put her underwear in the wash. Understand that I do all the laundry, so it's not like she is just being lazy. She hangs them on the doorknob to "air out". If that doesn't do the trick, she "rinses" them out in the sink. There was a terrible row last week when she found her undies in the trash. (That was me). I told her the next time, she wouldn't find them.

She won't flush the toilet after she pee's. She likes to "save the septic system", conserving her flushing, only doing so when a #2 happens. Have you any idea what it's like to run around the house everyday flushing all the toilets? That's me, that's my job.

She cusses like a sailor. All the time. Occasionally, she even forgets to be PC and says "fucking". (She has been known to curb herself when the great-grandchildren are about) but normally, she enjoys cussing immensely. Well for that matter, so do I. I don't know why, it just feels right. I think I just discovered something disturbing about this situation. We actually ENJOY cussing at each other all day. It a game really, to see who is the most creative. Also, she doesn't limit herself to cussing at me, she enjoys employing a variety of "creative adjectives" in her normal course of speech. For instance, she won't just remark that "it's cold outside", she says "its colder than a witches titty with a brass nipple out there". Ah, then there's "Go to Hell Ms. Murphy!" We don't know who Ms. Murphy is, but she's been dammin her to hell for 50 years.

She doesn't wear any makeup when we take her out to eat (a requirement on at least a weekly basis) except for a bright slash of fuschia(pink/magenta) lipstick. That's it, just those lips. When I put on makeup (of which I wear very sparsely, as I'm naturally B-U-T-Full) She tells me I look like a whore. She calls ANY heel higher than 1", FMP's. (Fuck me Pumps) that's what she says when I wear heels, I'm just trying to go out and pickup men to get laid. (Well, she has shut up about that one, since I got married).

She's a perv. She watches that sex show with the old lady demonstrating new dildos and other *kewl* sex toys, taking calls from deranged confused individuals. How many of you have sat in front of the TV listening to the best ways to enjoy anal sex in front of your granny?? Freakish, I tell you.

Everything I cook, or attempt to cook, is shit. No-one will ever make anything better than she does. No-One. If she doesn't cook it, it isn't worth eating.

She accuses me of 1) hiding anything she is currently looking for 2) stealing anything she can't find or 3) giving it away.

She actually physically snatch-grab fights with me when I attempt to throw away the bacon grease. She must save it! for cooking string beans!! She hoards empty plastic bread wrappers, and hides them in a drawer, "in case you run out of saran wrap". She keeps a snotrag stuffed in her bra. She's a chocoholic, and hides Hershey nuggets and bite size milky ways under her chair, in flower pots, under the bathroom sink, and in her shoes.

Oh, there's lots more, but I hope to have given you a brief idea of the person I live with, day after day after longlong day. Now you know why I drink.

5 Comments:

At September 30, 2004 at 10:42 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

You should love your grandmother. She makes the best poundcake, even better than you do. Although, you did do a pretty good job last time. Except Cyd and Trisha liked Mimmi's better.

 
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