Funeral Humor

My mother just passed away and I had to go to GA for her funeral. It was very hard, but very strange, as well. I felt like I was the star of some coming-of-age indy film about the freak who goes back home to deal with the death of her cold and distant mother and her estranged redneck family. It was very surreal and I will share with you some of the highlights.

First, Delta Airlines does not have a bereavement discount. I did not know this until I paid for the one-day notice airplane tickets for two from California to Georgia. Actually, they do have a bereavement discount, but only for Alaska and Hawaii. Don’t they know that people die in all 50 states? What is so special about Hawaii? At least if someone dies, you get to go to Hawaii! I had to go to Georgia!

So, I got into a fight with the funeral home. That’s right. You heard me. At my mother’s funeral, they gave my daddy a package to take home. When he gets it home, he opens it up and it’s the bill.

So, when I got back to California, I emailed the funeral home and told them I didn’t think they should give the bill to the family at the funeral. I suggested they mail the bill to the family. Every other business in America can mail a bill, why not them?

Then, the woman from the funeral home writes me back a mean email! She said it’s not a bill it’s a “statement” and they are required to give it to the person responsible and WHY DON’T I CALL THE FUNERAL HOMES IN LA AND FIND OUT HOW THEY DO IT. WTF? Oh no you didn’t bitch! This is who they send to deal with the grieving people?

I wrote back, “First of all, you can call it whatever you like but a bill is a bill; second, I understand that you have to give it to someone but not at their wife’s funeral; and third, I watch Six Feet Under and you ain’t fooling anybody bitch!”

The funeral itself was very religious, which was so not my mama. She was a very controlling woman. She was never a WWJD kind of gal. Unless it was What Would Jean Evans Do? That’s her name.

My favorite part is that everyone I talk to keeps saying, “Oh, your father will probably die now.” What? My daddy is only 60! “Yeah, but that’s what happens. The wife dies then the husband can’t bear to be without her and he dies, too.” Please, stop helping!

At the funeral, my brother Eddie kept saying to every person who walked up to me, “Be careful. Everything you say to Bobbie can and will be used against you on stage.” It was cute the first 100 times. Then I started thinking maybe he was pissed about something. Then I realized none of my brothers were really talking to me. Hmm. Do you think they are mad about all the jokes calling them fucking idiots? I didn’t think this through.

My niece says to me, “Hey tell us that joke.” “What joke?” “The one on your website about me being pregnant on Chrystal Meth.” Fuck. I gotta go. It’s not my fault. She shouldn’t have been pregnant on Chrystal Meth. She knew her aunt was a comedian.


My brother Eddie got fat. My rail thin brother who used to terrorize me as a child with fat jokes that were completely unprovoked and vicious is now fat. I really wanted to just spew every criticism on him that he ever tortured me with. I wanted to say, “Hey Eddie, hope the house doesn’t catch on fire and we all have to haul ass ‘cause you’d have to make two trips!” I wanted to do that but that behavior is not as becoming a 40 year old as it is a child. I don’t think I could get away with it now. Damn life’s cruel jokes!

So, as mentioned before in this blog, my oldest brother and his wife are insane religious fanatics. My husband and I are atheist liberal commie pinkos who believe in crazy things like evolution, gravity, and photosynthesis. My brother said, “How can you believe in evolution?” I said, “You believe Jonah was in the belly of a whale!!” He said, “Oh, I can show you proof of that!”

His wife said, “You believe that if you put a watch in the ground for a hundred years you can dig it up and it would be life?” WTF? Is that what they teach you evolution is in home school? No wonder they don’t believe in it.

I said “You believe that Noah gathered up two of every animal on Earth
and put them on a boat.”
She said, “No we don’t! Noah didn’t gather up the animals. God called
them up.”
I said, “How do you know that?”
“Because the Bible says so.”
I said, “Well Catcher in the Rye says a lot of stuff to, but I don’t live
my life by it.”
“Catcher in the Rye wasn’t written by God.”
“Neither was the Bible…for Christ’s sakes!” Oops. Sorry. I got carried away.


I had a long discussion with my brother about religion, politics, abortion, racism (get this: the white man can’t catch a break in Mississippi. Really? Mississippi?), everything we disagreed on basically. Then, about a week after I get home, he calls me up and says, “I’ve decided you’re not evil.” I was thinking “Well, I’ll call you back when I decide you’re not an idiot.”

New Potluck

New potluck jokes...

I’m getting old. I know I’m old because now I use my roach clip to pull whiskers out of my chin.


The LA City Council just banned the N word. Seriously. It is against the law to use the N word. But, only within 5 feet of a building.


I used to be obsessed with this website of a prison in Texas that listed death-row prisoners’ crimes and their last meal requests. I was fascinated by the horrible things these men had done and what they liked to eat. I thought maybe I could find a pattern. But, alas, there was never a fried chicken/child murder correlation.


I just went to the Helen, GA, and it is just like Big Bear and every other quaint little mountain tourist trap. Who decided that mountains + candle shops + fudge + Swiss chalet shaped hotels = fun? Just add tubing and you’ve got yourself a vacation!


I bet when we were Cavemen, there was a dude with a sign that read “The end is near.”


One night my husband and I were watching the Hip Hop awards and he looked at me and said, “Bitch you better watch yo ass.” I said, “What the fuck did you just say to me?” He goes, “Oh, sorry, I’ve been watching too much BET.”


I just read the new Steve Martin book “Born Standing Up”. He took his father to see “The Jerk” and afterward someone asked his father what he thought of it and he said, “Well, he’s no Charlie Chaplin.” Damn. Who the fuck do you have to be before your parents recognize that you are someone? I bet Charlie Chaplin’s dad said, “Well, he’s no Fattie Arbuckle.” My mama said to me, “You’re no Steve Martin.” Where does that leave me? Oh to be Fattie Arbuckle!


Everytime I buy pot, I buy $240 worth. Now when I go to the ATM, it says “do you want your usual $240?” Fuck. They are keeping track of my pot purchases. The ATM machine is a narc!


Last night I was watching that show “Intervention” where they follow around addicts and videotape their family’s intervention. And they had an intervention for a fat guy! Seriously. Can you imagine you come home one day and your friends and family are gathered around to tell you that you are a fatass…and they taped it…and showed it on TV! “John, we are really concerned about your pizza consumption.” You’d be like, “Billy is on crack! You said this was an intervention for him. And you said there’d be pizza!” That’s why whenever I walk into a room and see more than 3 people I know gathered, I turn around and walk the fuck out.



I was talking to the guy at the coffee house trying to figure out the difference between a medium and a large. He said, “8 oz.” I don’t know 8 oz. I can’t visualize 8 oz. I know how many 1/8s in a quarter and how many ¼ s are in an ounce. I don’t know kilos though. I could never do a drug that made you learn the metric system.



I used to know this guy named Gary. I would say, “How was your day Gary?” He’d say, “You’ll never believe what stupid thing Homer said today.” I was intrigued until I realized he was talking about The Simpsons. He would talk about TV characters like they were people. He said, “Oh my God, Darhma was at the store with Greg’s mom, and you know how she’s so snotty and bitchy…” We were gossiping about sitcoms. And not very good ones. Don’t you know any real people we can talk shit about?

Old Boyfriends

So in this day and age of the Internet and myspace, we have all by now experienced the horror of being contacted out of the blue by ex-boyfriends. This experience catches you completely off guard. I have now had this experience several times, lucky me (as well as the continuing offer from strange men to pay me $250 to pee on them. I know! How do they know that I always have to pee and I could use the money?)

My old boyfriend from high school contacted me last year (2007) and said, “I have thought about you every single day since high school (I graduated in 1986) especially the 8 years I was in prison.” Great! I gotta go.

This happened to me again recently, and it made me walk down memory lane of boyfriends past.

I once dated a guy who said, “I would never marry a woman that made more money than me.” Really? Then you better cruise the homeless shelters ‘cause you are one broke son-of-a-bitch! I notice you don’t mind whenever I pick up lunch. Never marry a woman that made more money than me Mr. Always- in- the- bathroom- when- the- check- comes motherfucker!

I once dated my dealer. Take it from me, don’t ever break up with your dealer! Now I don’t know what I’m jonsing for- pot or abuse.

One boyfriend, I didn’t actually break up with. I just stopped calling. But, this is a passive aggressive society and if he can’t learn to read between the lines, then fuck him!

The strangest boyfriend I ever had put in a good deal of time and energy into wooing me for about 6 months, then when I gave in, he wouldn’t have sex with me. What the fuck? Believe me, I can get that someone would not want to have sex with me. But, this guy really put in the leg work, you know? Why would he go to so much trouble if he didn’t want to sleep with me?

I keep trying to figure out what he got out of the relationship. It’s not like I was the Sugar Mama. So I paid for Senior Fish a couple of times, big deal. Dating me is not exactly good for your career. I can get you into the Ice House, so what? The thing is, I know he used me...I just can’t figure out for what! He never wanted me, he just wanted me to want him. It was like a bad Cheap Trick song.

I just can’t figure out why he didn’t sleep with me. At first I thought he was gay. But, then I realized, even the gay guys will fuck you (I should know). Then I thought he was religious, but the priests will fuck you, too (again, I know). If he were gay, I would have been fine with that. I don’t mind playing the fag hag; I just want to know the terms up front!

When he contacted me recently it was weird. It was kinda like a booty call, but it was more like a no-booty-for-you call. You know, I could have handled any fetish he threw at me except the not fucking. That’s just weird. Are you sure you don’t just want me to dress up like a Raccoon (or pee on me)? I told myself, “He’s just scared.” And my best friend Sally said, “Well he wasn’t scared of Amy when he was fucking her last week.” She’s a good friend.

There is a limit to the amount of bullshit I will put up with, and evidently it’s about 6 months. Hey, I can find plenty of guys out there to not fuck me! Especially when I whip out the Senior Fish. I just hope that when I die, God will tell me why I was rejected. He will say “Your keys were in the sofa and by the way, Jim was impotent.”

Do you think I am being too harsh? Let this be a lesson to you. Don’t ever fuck over a comedian.