Observations from a visitation

Last night Rach and I went to a visitation for my stepmom's mother who passed away at the age of 93. She was a lovely lady so it's hard for me to understand how her children turned out to be such a bunch of spooks. My dad came over at one point and said that some of the siblings were arguing about who got to keep their mom's cat. Um, if no one objects I'd like to ask for custody of the litter box and the enclosed cat turds. I saw a couple of family members walking around the funeral home with 20 ounce bottles of Mountain Dew in their hands. I'm sure they thought that carrying around a bottle of Bud Light would be inappropriate. Only in Pekin.

It's always a strange thing to walk up to the casket, mostly because I don't usually recognize the person lying there. The lady had always had curly dark brown hair for as long as I can remember. Yet when we made our way to the open casket it looked like Strawberry Shortcake lying there. I last saw her in May but I don't recall her resembling Ronald McDonald's illegitimate daughter.

For most of the two hour visitation Rach and I sat near the back of the room with my aunt and uncle. Little did I know that we'd be spending our evening sitting behind the one of the most annoying seven year olds in the world. He kept telling the worst jokes in the world over and over again. It was like a prepubescent Joker without the scrawled on red makeup. Here's some of his favorite zingers:

What do you call a cookie? A chocolate chip!

What do clouds wear under their clothes? Thunderware!

After my dad had heard a few of them he went around the corner where the boy couldn't see him, lifted his tie into the air, and acted like he was hanging himself. Really appropriate, father.