As many of you may know, my fire-cracker of a grandmother, Mariana, passed away a few weeks ago. The funeral home where her arrangements were made did a good job overall, but here are some areas in which they were lacking:
1. There was no office for the "office". When you walked in there was a desk, that's it. And, behind that desk was a lady wearing her funeral-best, which included a pair of Chinatown dollar-store slippers. She wore these fashionable slippers with socks. At least do my family the decency, and not wear socks with your slippers! Lady, this a funeral home, have some respect and put on some shoes. Forgive me if I don't appreciate you welcoming guests as though you are chilling on your front porch. In addition to the footwear, since the office was out in the open, so was the sign that read "All fees must be paid on the day of funeral service." Thank you for that. There was also a sign that said to not eat in the funeral chapel. Really? Because I wanted to bust out my bag of Onion Rings and pop open a bottle of Tropical Fantasy. Are people that tacky that a sign is needed? That is sad.
2. The funeral service was to begin at 3pm. Little did we know, but my grandmother was being prepared in the Bronx, although the funeral home is in Manhattan. Was my grandmother in the chapel an hour before guests were to arrive? No. My grandmother arrived at 2:30pm, and she was brought in through the front door. Just what arriving mourners need to see. My mother and I waited in an unused chapel while Flip Flop and her lackey prepped the area. As we waited, I comforted my mother with words like, "These idiots are cutting it pretty close, aren't they?"
3. On the board in the front area, they had a sign with my grandmother's name. They spelled it incorrectly by one letter. As my mother is telling Flip Flop this tidbit of information, the woman is making excuses for the mix up. Hey, shut the hell up and take your little fingers and put an "A" where you put an "I." Are you seriously going to argue with the daughter of the deceased about a friggin' letter? I think she knows how to spell her mother's name. And mom, you need to stop ... you tried to blame the spelling mishap on dad by saying, "Mi esposo no sabe, es americano." Oh no you didn't.
4. Eventually, I had to use the bathroom in the joint. When I went down there, what did I find? The casket gallery is right next to the bathroom! What the hell! Get a door and put a sign that says DO NOT ENTER, don't have that shit all exposed to everyone who goes down there to take a leak! Needless to say, I used the buddy method every time I went down there. That's right ... Dineen and I were potty-partners.
Now, the next thing I am going to discuss happened in the limo at the cemetery. I was in the limo with Papi, Aunt Cookie, cousin Lisa, my mother and grandma's sister Elsa. As we are sitting in the car waiting to get out to sit by the grave my mother and Elsa are discussing how the grave is in a very nice area. So then my mother says, "Oh yeah, Elsa, there is a plot in there for you too." SURPRISE! What the hell kind of out-of-nowhere statement is that, mom? Why don't you just tell the woman to jump in and try it out? Gotta love my mother.
How do you even appropriately thank someone for a gift like a cemetery plot? "Gee, Liz, um, thank you for thinking of me ... dead. You're really too kind."
I watch Dancing with the Stars. Let me know when you stop laughing, so I can continue ... you ready?
(he's like 22 years old).
(he's like 22 years old).
