Thursday, November 11, 2010

030: The First Ever Note to Self

The first (but certainly not last) Note to Self exists so Mother won't forget to watch her second favorite Osmond (Marie) discuss her gay son's suicide on Oprah today. Suicide is one of a select few Fan Fave topics in this household so you should not be surprised that this warrants an all-caps reminder.

To end on a lighter note:

Monday, October 11, 2010

029: The Colonoscopy

Is This Real Life?

028: The Aftermath of the Near Death Experience

There are a myriad of problems that arise from being the only child to a pair of aging parents:

1. It will be my sole responsibility to properly care for them when they finally teeter onto the inevitable downward spiral that is senility.

2. My parents are so old they don't own or know how to utilize even the most primitive forms of technology, namely, a cellular phone.

Two weekends ago I developed a near-fatal rash thanks to a side effect of the mood stabilizer known as Lamotrigine, a medication for those who happen to be blessed with either manic-depressive illness OR epilepsy. Before writing the script for this medication, my psychiatrist issued a warning that if I were to break out into any sort of abnormal skin condition, to rush to an Emergency Room ASAP. My parents being the compulsive gamblers that they are, assumed I would fare okay and took off to their Home Away From Home, The Fallsview Casino in Niagara Falls, Ontario.

As there is no way to reach my family when they are immersed in slot machine culture, I had to call my friends who serve as my surrogate parents when things became dire and the rash spread from my thighs to my stomach to my back and all the way up my arms in disgusting, welt-like blobs and my breathing became shallow and panicked and I was forced to mull over which songs I would like to have played at my pending funeral procession.

Instead of investing in a cell phone as a cautionary procedure after my Near Death Experience, like every other consumer of the 21st century, my parents graciously left me the toll-free number of their hotel (sans room number) to contact them in case of further emergency. Thanks, guys. Love you, too.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

027: The Plea

After spending a good portion of my Saturday cleaning up dog vomit, I've decided I can no longer handle the responsibility of having pets 'in [my] hands'. There may or may not be some sort of backyard canine sacrifice ritual facilitated by my Jehovah's Witnesses neighbors in the future.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

026: Don't Hate: Appropriate!

Our 12 year old shih-tzu, Dakota (Fanning), is Knocking on Death's Door and will now only eat his mush when it is prepared with pieces of chewable Pepto Bismol tablets, heated for 8 - 20 seconds, and when my father mixes it up with his finger because the dog 'likes that better'.

And thanks for the heads up, Mom, that my bath towel is 'on line', though I wasn't left a corresponding URL to check that shit out.

Friday, June 25, 2010

025.5: The Casino Cancellation Amended

Once summer vacation rolls around Mother gets a little note happy and the revisions and amendments to previous notes start flying.

Note that in Ireland, it is customary to say, 'flowers water' instead of 'water flowers'.

And I'm pretty sure Mother doesn't really need any more Dixarit as she's been 'going through menopause' for probably 15 years now.

025: The Casino Cancellation

For those who don't know me, I was named after one of the worst songs ever written by one of music's most 'influential' bands of all time, The Beatles. As I hate my name and The Beatles for cursing me with it, it brought me great pleasure to spot this note on the kitchen counter tonight. My father must be pretty steamed though as a few weeks ago he told a Fallsview Casino representative that he 'would rather see Ringo Starr any day of the week' instead of accepting two free tickets to see Jon Stewart's stand-up routine, worth $90 each.