Monday, August 3, 2009

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRAMMY


ME: Hi, Grammy! Are you here?

GRAMMY: Am I here? Of course I’m here. Where do you think I’d be? Out with my twenty year-old boy toy in a red hot sports car, suckin’ up the night life? Geez, Barbara, I’m a hundred years old. Where the hell’s your brain?

ME: Sorry, Grammy. I just came over to help you celebrate your birthday. I brought cake.

GRAMMY: Cake? Yeah, I’ll gum that sucka to death. Why didn’t you bring me any smokes? I’m on my last pack. And a fifth of Jack Daniels might have been nice to help with the friggin arthritis.

ME: Sorry, Grammy. I thought you’d like cake.

GRAMMY: I used to like cake. Beefcake. Haven’t had any of that in a while. (sigh) Oh, well. Light her up, Barb. I’m out of matches.

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6 comments:

Diane Mayr said...

Love it, Barb! When I first saw the blog name I said to myself, WTF? Barbara is calling herself "Granny?" I'm happy to find out otherwise!

Andy said...

"Because someone has to spend time with the old woman." An excellent tag line for an excellent blog, Barb. I'm looking forward to future installments.

I'm Jet . . . said...

Well, Barb, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?

Can't wait to see where Grammy will be taking you (and us . . .)

Jet

Sally said...

what fun!

Barbara said...

Thanks, guys.

And Diane, I am a Granny.

Diane Mayr said...

Barb--I knew you were a grandmother. There's a difference between being a granny and being a GRANNY. I've seen enough GRANNIES to last a lifetime. They're the ones who think the little darlings are simply adorable and that everyone else agrees and doesn't mind that the rugrats are running wild, being rude, and totally dissing GRAN.