Just two days until Thanksgiving. I'll be on the road tomorrow trekking through the driving rain and I've even heard rumor that there might be a little bit of snow "back home" in Virginia. Well see what happens.
I wanted to take the time to share a very special holiday memory with my 3.5 followers. In my world is has become known as the best Thanksgiving evah and you're about to see why. First let me explain two things before I dive into the story.
Number 1: My aunt used to be an RN at a state insane asylum. I guess they don’t call it an asylum anymore but back then it was a true, blue asylum full of bat-shit, crazy people. I’m not being crass…just being honest. Also, we didn’t actually call it an asylum. We called it “The Hill”. You’re probably wondering why. Well it was located on a hill so the obviously thing to call the asylum was ‘The Hill”. We hillbillies tend to keep things simple.
Number 2: My grandmother had a huge stick up her ass…not literally but figuratively. She was really concerned about how others perceived her and her family. If you did anything to give the perception that the family was less than stellar…you were pretty much dead in her eyes. Sad? Yes, but it makes this story so much better!!!!
So one Thanksgiving my aunt and her husband show up at my grandparents’ house with this odd looking lady in tow. I remember she was just a little, old, wrinkled thing with a little blondish-brown wig sitting askew on her head (what I call cockeyed). Everybody looked at her but no one said anything. Finally my brother and I pulled my mother aside to ask her who it was. This is the way the conversation went:
Me/Brother: Who is that little old lady?
Mother: That’s Ursell. (Note: That’s the way hillfolk pronounce her name. Her name was actually Ursula. For authenticity, I will continue to call her Ursell for the remainder of the story.)
At this point, Ursell was making the rounds of the of the house telling anyone that would listen all kinds of nonsensical lies. She told us she was once married to the president of PepsiCo (that’s exactly how she said it) and numerous other colorful stories.
The conversation with my mother continued:
Me/brother: Who is she?
Mother: She’s a cousin.
Me/brother: Why did they bring her?
Mother: She’s a patient on “The Hill”. I guess she didn’t have anywhere else to go and your aunt took pity on her.
Just when I started to think that my aunt had done a really nice thing, my mother continued:
Mother: Mommy is gonna shit.
Me/brother: Why?
Mother: Back in the day (i.e., back in the 40s or 50s) Ursell and her sister had a whore house. That’s why she’s crazy….syphilis.
Okay, did you just hear the needle of the record player being pulled across the record?? That’s what it was like….I SWEAR TO GOD!
I was getting ready to sit down to Thanksgiving dinner with a real…life…whore!!! Not just any whore but one who was crazy because of a sexually transmitted disease. My grandmother had steam coming out of her ass so hard that it nearly dislodged that stick. There was a whore sitting at her dinner table.
Number 1: My aunt used to be an RN at a state insane asylum. I guess they don’t call it an asylum anymore but back then it was a true, blue asylum full of bat-shit, crazy people. I’m not being crass…just being honest. Also, we didn’t actually call it an asylum. We called it “The Hill”. You’re probably wondering why. Well it was located on a hill so the obviously thing to call the asylum was ‘The Hill”. We hillbillies tend to keep things simple.
Number 2: My grandmother had a huge stick up her ass…not literally but figuratively. She was really concerned about how others perceived her and her family. If you did anything to give the perception that the family was less than stellar…you were pretty much dead in her eyes. Sad? Yes, but it makes this story so much better!!!!
So one Thanksgiving my aunt and her husband show up at my grandparents’ house with this odd looking lady in tow. I remember she was just a little, old, wrinkled thing with a little blondish-brown wig sitting askew on her head (what I call cockeyed). Everybody looked at her but no one said anything. Finally my brother and I pulled my mother aside to ask her who it was. This is the way the conversation went:
Me/Brother: Who is that little old lady?
Mother: That’s Ursell. (Note: That’s the way hillfolk pronounce her name. Her name was actually Ursula. For authenticity, I will continue to call her Ursell for the remainder of the story.)
At this point, Ursell was making the rounds of the of the house telling anyone that would listen all kinds of nonsensical lies. She told us she was once married to the president of PepsiCo (that’s exactly how she said it) and numerous other colorful stories.
The conversation with my mother continued:
Me/brother: Who is she?
Mother: She’s a cousin.
Me/brother: Why did they bring her?
Mother: She’s a patient on “The Hill”. I guess she didn’t have anywhere else to go and your aunt took pity on her.
Just when I started to think that my aunt had done a really nice thing, my mother continued:
Mother: Mommy is gonna shit.
Me/brother: Why?
Mother: Back in the day (i.e., back in the 40s or 50s) Ursell and her sister had a whore house. That’s why she’s crazy….syphilis.
Okay, did you just hear the needle of the record player being pulled across the record?? That’s what it was like….I SWEAR TO GOD!
I was getting ready to sit down to Thanksgiving dinner with a real…life…whore!!! Not just any whore but one who was crazy because of a sexually transmitted disease. My grandmother had steam coming out of her ass so hard that it nearly dislodged that stick. There was a whore sitting at her dinner table.
Can anyone say BEST THANKSGIVING EVAH???!!!???!!!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone. May your holiday be as memorable as the one I spent eating dinner with a crazy whore!!!!!
Gobble gobble out...
