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Sunday evening, my sister WON. She WON the funny with this:
(discussion was about "old fogey" experssions like "make water")
Mother: And "move your bowels". Where are they moving to?
Sister: Oh, just down the street.
Me: Yeah, they left a forwarding address and this note, "Dear Jen, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me."
Sister: "I have some shit I have to work out."
Now you KNOW you've won the funny when people are laughing so hard, there's no sound. Just the occassional gasp for air. My sister and mother were weeping from the humor while I nearly made water in my pants.
THEN, as if her victory was in any doubt, we got into a different discussion (while still occassionally snickering over the previous volley) about how we were going to spend the small windfall we each got (from my grandmother's will).
The typical "bubble gum and records" was put out but then we started rattling off all the weird things my grandparents owned (like old lady babuskas, flushing toilet banks, a horde of yogurt cups, a lawn chair lounge, yard decorations, and the word "davenport" even cropped up).
I thought I was going to win with "veggies in bottles" (my grandfather had a collection of freaky veggies grown into bottles--said veggies were, once they'd grown to the size of their bottle homes, pickled and proudly displayed in the front window of his trailer). But then, my sister "no no"ed me and said:
Giant tryke.
Cue more hilarity.
"I'll get a giant tryke with an ooga horn. I'll ride it to your mom's house."
I told her if she did, I wanted a picture.
(my grandparents had an adult sized tricycle, as youngsters, this Giant Tryke was better than a trip to Disney World. One kid would sit on the giant fat ride seat and peddle like hell while another sat or stood in the basket. When the Giant Tryke hit the skinny speed bumps, the whole shebang caught some MAJOR air. We'd also attempt to pop wheelies on the Giant Tryke and take curves at high rates of speed to get the rear end up on one wheel. Needless to say, all of these activities were frowned upon by our grandmother. The only thing that would make her more mad than blantant Giant Tryke abuse was poking at tar bubbles--another activity we loved)
I'm really surprised the nurses didn't ask us to leave. We aren't known for our quiet demeanors and heart patients probably shouldn't get that worked up.
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