Tag: mothers

Thanksgiving Shits And Giggles Featuring Woody Scream

Well We are Finally getting Our shit together since We got clusterfucked in-between a fucking a Surreal Road Trip and the Thankless Toils of the Thanksgiving Holidays. I’m currently working on a Post pertaining to the Aforementioned Road Trip, but it’s Slow Going since it’s such an Infuriating Story I have to take frequent breaks so I don’t Actually Punch My Computer Screen. That aside I felt the need to Address the Utter Nonsensical Onslaught of the so called Holiday Season in the Meantime. To Keep some sort of Order and Assemble some sort of fucking Sanity I will be Using the FYB Tried and True Bullet Point Format.

  • Pre Show Prep: My Wife and I have been Drafted over the Recent Years into the Unwelcoming Ranks of Holiday Responsibilities and Assorted Bullshit. So this Includes the Relentless Cleaning Up the House in Preparation of the Forthcoming Company. This obviously makes fucking Sense, and We have No Qualm with Doing. The Problem is My Micro Managing Obsessive and Franticly Stressed Mother who can make You Feel like You’re Losing Your goddamn Mind since Her Anxiety is fucking Infectious. She whips Herself up into a fucking Frenzy Running around like a fucking Lunatic starting Numerous Projects Simultaneously while Simultaneously Finishing None of Them. It’s what We unaffectionately refer to as My Mother’s Manic Host Mode where She acts like Her Life and Reputation is Teetering on the Brink if Her House isn’t Absolutely Spotless and has been Cleaned to the Highest Hospital Standards.

The Funny thing is It’s just Family Who are the Mellowest and Undemanding House Guests You can Have for fuck’s sake. My Mother seems to be Operating under some delightfully Demented Assumption that if The Family Arrives to find even a Single Speck of Dirt on the Bottom Stair (leading up to the Front Porch) It’s All Over in an Instant. As if My Fellow Family Members would Cast a Disgusted eye Upon the Psec of Dirt, Turn Around on Their Heel, March back to Their Cars, Lod up, and Yell before Speeding Off into the fucking Distance “WHAT A FILTHY HELLHOLE! SERIOUSLY FUCK YOU GUYS AND YOUR PIG STY! WE WILL NEVER SET FOOT ON THIS SOIL AGAIN AND WE DISOWN EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU DISAPPOINTING AND FILTHY FUCKERS!!!” It’s Insanity Incarnate.

               

THE KIDS: The Two Boys are Still just Shy of becoming Teenagers and as So were Willing to Speak and Interact with Us on a Consistent Basis during the Trip. Meanwhile Their Sister being 16 Years Old is Undoubtedly a Full Blown fucking Teenager. She had Her Face in Her Phone the Entire fucking Time because Her Life currently is all About Socializing and Friends, Friends, and More fucking Friends! I do have to give Credit where Credit is Due for Her Part She refrained from being the Classic Anti-Social Hormonal Horror Show Three Ring Circus of Bullshit. The Trip was Free from Conflict, Argument, Hissy fucking Fits, Screaming/Yelling, Door Slamming or Anti Adult/Authority “I am My Own Person” Self Indulgent Self Righteous Sixteen Year Old Psychodrama. So That Was A Pleasant Surprise.

The Reservation Situation: My Mother being from an Older Generation is still totally Hung Up on the Restaurant Reservation Scenario. The Problem is that Unless it’s some Super Trendy Fine Dining Hipster Restaurant or Perhaps an Old School Steak House Throw Back Dinosaur then You Don’t actually need a Reservation. Unfortunately as Time Evolved and Moved on My Mother Did Not budge an Inch. So One Night We were going out to Eat and Automatically My Mother becomes Fixated as Fuck on the Fact the Place Didn’t Take Reservations, BUT where Kind Enough as to make Note that a Party of 10 was Headed Their Way (I assume this was complete horseshoe to placate the Madness that is My Mother. Also I don’t Blame Them a Bit since My Mother is well let’s say Intense and Leave it at That.

               

As We are Driving to Said Restaurant My Mother goes into Panic Mode when My Cousin Texted “Do we need a reservation?” and that’s all it Took for My Mother to Head for the Races. The Next thing We know My Mother has Engulfed Everyone in the fucking Car into Her Web of Sheer Madness as We all Scrambled to Solve the Situation (aka Attempt Get My Mental Mother to Calm the Hell Down). Finally the whole Reservation Hullaballoo died Down Five Minutes before We got to the Restaurant. Just for the Record the Drive was 42 Minutes Long and it took only Two Minutes before My Mother got Triggered by the Innocent Reservation Question. That Means the Reservation Dilemma essentially lasted the Entire Fucking Ride.

Once We Enter the Resturant even though it’s 8:30 on a Saturday Night was like a Scene from a Shitty B Comedy Movie was Empty as Empty could be. The Only other fucking People there besides Us are the fucking Staff. That’s it just Us and the Boarded looking Staff After all the Old School Reservation busllshit Versus the New School No Reservation Needed the place Didn’t have a Single other Customer. It was so Dead in there I honestly felt fucking Bad for the Poor Waitress who just so Happened to Be the Nicest, Professional, Personable, and Kickass All Around Waitress I have Even Encountered. The way I figured it She was Financially fucked since Working at this Particular Restaurant was making Her a Damn Thing, or She was One of the Working Poor who had Several Restaurant/Food Service Jobs just to be able to Scrape By. All I hope is She finds a Better and More Lucrative Job then the Graveyard of a Restaurant where She is currently Employed.

                  

Litter Patrol: We live so Far Out in the fucking Middle of Nowhere USA that We Don’t have Trash Pick Up so No Garbage Men/Women or Trash Day. Instead We have to Haul Our own Stinky Shitty Trash down to the Town Dump (Which is Actually just a Parking Lt with a Bunch of Dumpsters line up Designated for Different Shit (Example: Plastic, Yard Waste, Metal Etc.). One of the Unfortunate Side Effects of this and People be Lazy as Fuck is there is a Real Litter Problem. Along some Stretches of Road there’s all kinds of Shit like Fast Food Containers from Places that are fucking 30-45 Minutes Away, Old Tires, Beer Cans/Booze Bottles (There so Many I swear Every motherfuckier in Town is Drunk Driving), Broken TV’s, Ratty Ass Furniture like Old Worn Out Love Seats and Shit, and a Shit Ton of Rotting Plastic Bottles.

This lead to My Mother having the Idea to Subtly Suggest that Why the Family is here that We clean up Along Some the Roads that Run Through the Vast Property. This was a Nice and Generally Well Received by All until My Mother started to get fucking pushy as Shit Pushing the Issue and Badgering Everyone. I told Her it was fucking Insane that She went fro Subtle Suggestion to Full on Demanding Compliance Immediately. First Off Not everyone Agreed to Help which was Fine and Expected, but then My Mother got bent because My Cousin wouldn’t Allow the Boys to go Out and Collect Trash on the Side of the Road because it would be Dangerous. She was and is Absolutely right on that one it is fucking Damn Well Dangerous.

                   

The Speed Limit is 55 and as You can imagine People average 65 or Higher and the fact there is Only 3-4 Police Officers allows People to Drive even More like Total Assholes. Then there are Several Blind Curves which are just begging to be the Sight of a Fatal Car Accident so again Imagine People Speeding around Blind Curves would You want Your Kid Standing There Fuck No You Wouldn’t. Lastly the Road is a Main Route for Eighteen Wheeler Logging Trucks which as We all Know take Forever and a fucking Day to Slow to a Gradual Stop.

At Last My Wife, My Cousin’s Husband (looking to escape the Chaotic Confines of the House), My Mother, and I Headed Out to Help Tidy up the fucking Roadside. Now after spending 3-4 Hours Ranting, Raving, and Being a Total Dick about the Whole Thing My Mother Collected One Bag of Trash in 15 minutes and Then Declared She was Tired and Done. The Three of Us remained and Managed to Pack 22 Trash Bags to the fucking Gills with Roadside Garbage. Not too Shabby for damn Near Forced Labor.

The Getting Ready Dilemma: This is the Asinine bullshit that I Hate the Most out of all the Family fucking Nonsense is the Getting Ready Principle. This happens Every fucking time before Every fucking thing We plan to Do when the Family is in Town. As the Deadline Approaches Family Members mingle around Idly just Killing Time fucking with Phones, watching TV, Reading a Book (Yes some of Us still Read fucking Books so Fuck You if thats weird to You), or smoother Mindless Time Wasting Activity. The Point is this getting Ready to Leave Limbo is We aren’t even Interacting with one Another while We wait. It’s like We’re all Hanging around Some Sort of fucking Waiting room for an Appointment that’s Never Coming.

One by One Each Family Member States that They have to Get Ready and then set off to Allegedly do so. I say Allegedly because though Everyone leaves under the Presence of getting Ready to Go NO ONE actually appears to actually be getting ready. This process wastes a good 45 to 60 Minutes as Nothing gets Accomplished while People Drift Room from Room like Human fucking Jellyfish. I detest Downtime I really fucking Hate it because I get Bored Easily, and I fucking Hate Boredom with a Passion so This Aimless Lackadaisical Idiocy infuriates Me to No end. Then just like a fucking Football Game after Squandering a Good Amount of Time in the Final Minutes Everyone jumps into fucking Action. Then all of a Sudden Everyone is Ready and Walking out the fucking Door so what this all Means is They can get Ready in a Timely Manner, but They Delay and Dawdle away a Hour for No fucking Reason Whatsoever. I simply Cannot get My Head Around Such Drivel.

             

Game Night Without The Kids: On One Particular Night the Kids went to Visit some of Their Other Relatives leaving the Adults Alone for the Evening. After the Drinks Started Flowing My Wife Suggested Breaking Out the Game Cards Against Humanity since We were Kid Free, and It’s I think We can All Agree Not a Game for Anyone Under 18 Years of Age (Some May Argue No One Under 21 Years Of Age). For those Who are Not Familiar Cards Against Humanity is an Adult Party Game in Which Players complete Fill-In-The-Blanks Statements using Words or Phrases Typically Deemed Obscene or Offensive in Nature.

Undeniably the Some of the Games Appeal comes from the Fact Younger Generations get a kick out of Hearing Older Generations Curse or Use Sexually Charged Language. The Assumption made by The Younger Generations is that the Older Generation will be Utterly Clueless when it comes to the X-Rated Content. The Ironic thing is the Old Generations DO know about all the Crazy Sex shit it’s They just Don’t know what it’s Being Called Nowadays (Example: Russia used to be The Soviet Union and the USSR in its Past though its Always been the Same Geographical Location).

My Cousin’s Husband remember Playing it one Time Long Ago and was Definitely in Favor of Playing that was Until We actually Started Playing. We were about 8 minutes into the Game when He started to Regret His Initial Endorsement for Playing Cards Against Humanity in the First Place. He was Consumed by Embarrassment and Tried to Avoid dwelling on certain Topics like Describing what the Sex Toy Known as the Fleshlight was to His In laws. My Wife and I were having None of It and Informed Him once the Game started there Wasn’t any Backing Down, Sugar Coating, or Skipping Over a Single Aspect of the Game. Watching My Cousins Husband Squirm Uncomfortably Blushing with Embarrassment was the Highlight of the Game as Far as I’m Concerned.

And So this Brings Us to the End of this Pos on Thanksgiving Tensions. I wanted to End this Post a Little Different from Previous Posts So I Included the Feature Video WOODY SCREAM below to Summarize My Feelings Pertaining to the Hell of the Holidays. Now On to Christmas!

Enjoy.

Thanks For Watching,

 By/Presented By Les Sober 

Marijuana & My Mother Do a Complete 180

I remember when California passed The Compassionate Use Act in 1996 (becoming the 1st State to legalize Medical Marijuana) my friends and I were floored. Until now our Pot Smokings greatest aspirations were to save up enough money to make the Pot Head Pilgrimage across the Ocean to the Netherlands. The destination being the Legendary City of Marijuana known as Amsterdam. The Mystical Metropolis where Weed was sold and smoked without legal or social persecution  as No One Gave a Shit (a fucking Utopia as far as my Friends were concerned).

And now there it was the State of California a Pot Smokers Beacon of Hope, but it was a “So Close Yet So Far” Scenario for my Friends and I unfortunately. See while California legalized Medical Marijuana (which illuminated a lot of Foreign travel bullshit making it much easier to access  than Amsterdam) you had to be a Legal Resident with a Doctor’s Prescription Card to reap the benefits of Medical Marijuana Legally.

So California felt as fucking far away as Andsterdajm as far as I was concerned. Thankfully for me over the past 22 years 29 states have Legalized (Medical OR Recreational) Marijuana use by persons over the age of 21.

When I was growing up I started smoking Weed around 15-16 years old and have continued to this very day. My Mom was the fucking antithesis of Ronnie Regan’s bullshit War On Drugs that labeled Marijuana a Gate Way Drug (Which has been proven to be false as Alcohol is the actual 1st intoxicant Teens try so FUCK OFF ALCHOL.

Anyway the point being my Mother was disgusted and appalled by anyone, (let alone her Son) using Marijuana, and spent years battling in vain to get me to quite smoking weed. She used the old school smell check when I would get home starting  in High School in an attempt to detect the smell of Weed. The problem was my Mother had (and still doesn’t really) know what the fuck Weed smells like. This led to countless unfounded accusations because she mistook Incense, Petrulli Oil, Cloves, Cigarillo’s, Certain Cologne, and camp fire smoke just to name a few. In the end she caught me a few times when I was definitely Stoned, but only once did she find Weed. One evening She ran through my jacket pockets, and removed a fat ass Dime Bag yet never mentioned it to me ironically as it were.

. At the same time on the other side of the Cannabis Coin I spent just as many years futilely fighting to change my Mother’s negative view of Marijuana. I constantly fought to inform my Mother Marijuana had multiple Medical Uses, and wasn’t a killer narcotic like Crack. I argued that the Gate Way Drug Theory was bullshit. Was I really meant to believe if I smoked Weed on Wednesday I’d be robbing Old Ladies and shooting Heroin into my fucking neck?!!! Bullshit.

Now we fast forward to 2016 and I’m now in my 30’s and I was a married home owner living in the Great Southern Swamp. I was visiting my Father who was struggling against Liver Cancer because he wan’t people to remember him as he was not as a crippled, bed ridden living Corpse.

My Father loved to cook, hell thats an understatement. He had cooked dinner for me,my Wife, Himself, his 2nd Wife, and oddly my Mother. We were in the middle of eating I was seated at one end of the table and my Father at the other when my Mother (sitting to the right of my Father), and then it happened. My Father at that point was on a powerful as fuck Steroid that was causing mild insomnia (He slept 3-4 hours a night) and inhibiting his appetite. Now not just cooking food, but eating it as well was one of my Father’s true passions, and he quit Chemotherapy because he was too nauseous and fatigued to even think about eating shit.

My Mother leans over and all of a sudden she asked:

“Have you tired Marijuana???”

Now the answer was yes he had tried it once since getting sick. He had decided to try it at least once since he had nothing to loose (not like it kill him). The first hurdle for him (besides living in a state where Marijuana is still Illegal) was he was in his 70’s so who could he ask about getting Weed? He finally asked a close friend who had a Daughter who lived in The Rotten Apple and had a Dealer. Next my Father had obsessed about how much he should smoke ( take a couple hits of a joint? Smoke Half? Smoke it All? I think he was very weary of the affects and it made him rather uneasy.

The Daughter’s Dealer sent a Joint along to my Father along with the message to Please Smoke the Sample Joint and if my Father liked it to let him know. I didn’t have the pleasure of smoking with my Father, but my Younger Brother did. This was in part due to a phone call awhile before hand where I asked him to be there to help assist my  Father’s inaugural Toking to make sure things went smoothly. It did accept no one informed my Father that due to its unique reverse tolerance (Marijuana has to build up in your system before you can experience the High which is why in most all cases a person won’t get Stoned the 1st or 1st few times the smoke.) he might need to keep going, but he figured once was enough for him.

I couldn’t get over what my Mother had said and couldn’t let it go until I found out why. It only took a couple of moths or so and I learned the real story.

Apparently my Mother has a very good friend who suffers from brutal insomnia (She would go DAYS without sleeping), and she to had a Daughter who happened to live in Colorado (The New Mecca for Marijuana in America). So inevitably my Mother’s Friend flew out to visit her Daughter, and while she was there visiting her Daughter suggested trying Marijuana to combat her ongoing contest against insomnia. My Mother’s friend thought why not and purchased some Weed from a local Dispensary (Marijuana is Legal for Medical AND Recreational Adult Use) and tried it. She was blown away as she had never imagined Marijuana would work nearly as well as it did. Since that trip She had been singing the praises of Marijuana to everyone She knew INCLUDING MY MOTHER.

Then in that instant I realized what the fuck was going on. Its damn near identical as to going to Court. You can go to Court and tell the Judge your innocent and he sends you to jail, BUT if you hire a Lawyer and he says the same fucking thing you did/would have all of a sudden the Judge starts listening.

And thats exactly what had happened with my Mother and her views of Marijuana. I could tell her till I was blue in the fucking face (and I did) about the benefits of Marijuana and all the bullshit propaganda             BUT UNTIL HER GOOD FRIEND VOUCHED FOR THE BENEFITS OF MARIJUANA THROUGH HER PERSONAL EXPERIENCE was the convincing factor for my Mother’s drastic and positive attitude change towards Medical Marijuana.

Sometimes its not WHATS BEING SAID BUT WHO’S SAYING IT that matters.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober