In Every season there is a time.
A Time To Die which has certain expectations; customs and traditions which to ,..um pardon me but it's incomprehensible and appalling to make a mistake at a Southern Funeral and "Being Dead is After All No Excuse!"
Introducing Your experts of Southern Burial Rights and pageantry, not to mention the protocol of FOODS served at such an event; this perfectly lovely book is a signed edition.
In order to win you must post your funniest life story, embarrassing moment type of tale that will get a genuine guffaw out loud, from me. Your story can have something to do with a funeral, but that isn't necessary. Not many people find anything funny in a funeral. Personally I think comenting on how "natchrel" someone looks doesn't say much for them while they were breathing. The book is great anyone would enjoy it.
One more thing, to broaden the scope of contestants and not just make it a slam dunk affair between the faithful four. You must send other people this way to partake of our treasure hunt. The person who convinces the most new readers to take a peek, will win a pair of the most prized peri panties. Isn't this the greatest contest you have ever heard of in your sweet life?
Southern Etiquette of the dead with RECIPES, all the scrumptious secrets of the South at your fingertips. You'll understand if you have ever been to a funeral in the south. One cannot imagine the display of comfort foods, or know how delightful these dishes are; just each one makes you audibly gasp, because it's wonderful. So here you have it all in one. What to cook, what to say, what NOT TO SAY, and possibly a pair of these very overrated stretch net peri panties, (now they are a real dud). But you want them! So get to work on this contest and give it your best shot. There will be some tough contenders out there, CBW has to get her mama in the act. You all know who you are. Kathy may have spayed a male you never know, but those stories are going to set fire to the presses. You've got 2 weeks. I need to finish reading it myself and copying down the recipes. GiT to work! Make us laugh!
this so made me laugh in light of the happenings here right now... Please tell me that the food I will be cooking today and tomorrow is appropriate for the after funeral feeding of the family...
Ham, mac n cheese (southern style of course) green bean casserole, deviled eggs, kahula chocolate cheesecake and cookies all home made of course... and hubby says I should make a sweet tater suffell(how the heck do you spell it?) anyway he says i should make that too... you know comfort foods :)
I am supposed to talk to mom tonight and i know there is a story she loves to tell on me at a funeral when I was little so I will come back with it!
Have a wonderful day~
Count me in.... now to think of something funny.
Can't wait to read these and LOVE the feet photo! Now to sift through my stories...
Actually since very few people ever find any humour in a funeral we can scratch that. I've heard some pretty bad soloists hiding behind those screens, but nothing to write about. Just pick something funny.
Ok, I have a tiny little funeral incident for you. It's not a contest winner, but it was one of those unexpected things that you find funny at the time.
I have blogged about my retarded Uncle Jack, who I adore! One little gem, was when my husband died. My husband was a Los Angeles City Fireman, and if you've never been to a funeral for a fallen fireman just picture something along the lines of a State Funeral for royalty.
After the service we had a procession from the chapel to the gravesite, with all the horses, and fire trucks, several hundred firemen in dress uniforms.
I let my Uncle Jack sit next to me right down front directly in front of the casket and open grave. The chaplin gave a short reading, and the color guard folded the flag, and presented it to me. They motioned for me to get up to step forward for one last touch (it was a kiss) of the casket. Jack got up with me and turned to the attendees, and rather loudly said, "poor Frankie"......my husband's name was Keith!
Now I have to make a mental note to mention your contest on my blog. I love funny stories.
While I'm trying to think of a funny story, I'll be checking here often to read the others. If our friend Coffee, tells her enema story I won't even bother with one...
Grandma, sheesh I feel bad for laughing at your husband's funeral story, but it sure is funny!
Oh, this is gonna be good. I am going to answer for my mother because I already know one of her most embarassing moments. Then I'll do a separate one for me, if that is OK.
As a young teen, my mother took Latin. She was very shy, didn't have a lot of confidence, but was very smart.
The Latin teacher asked the class what Some Latin Word meant in English. My mother knew the answer was either "city" or "town". She raised her hand and the teacher called on her. Out of my mother's mouth popped a perfect combination of the two words: titty.
Sorry for saying that, but it's a true story. Imagine the horror when Shy Girl says something like that out loud, to the entire class.
I'm going to have to think about mine. Consider this CBW Mother's entry.
Ah, which ones to choose from. Would it be when I got hit upside the head in a basketball game because I wasn't paying attention and a boy I liked started laughing? Was it when my nose dripped uncontrollably but I didn't realize it was actually dangling out, hovering just over my top lip, until a cashier started staring and snickering?
No, one of my worst moments was when I visited my former in-laws for the very first time. This was a Big To Do because their son was going to marry me, and this was their first introduction. We had a very formal dinner with many of his extended family present.
Later on, I had to use the facilities. I did. And then I flushed. Except nothing would go down. It just swirled around and around and the water kept on rising. I am sure you can surmise this was not #1 floating around in there.
The water kept rising and so did my blood pressure. Then came the sounds that everyone dreads when they are meeting their in-laws for the first time: the unmistakable splash of the toilet water as it spilled over the edge and onto the floor, and along with it some of its contents.
I could not control the situation myself, especially since there was no plunger in there. So, I called for help thinking my boyfriend would help me.
Nope, in rush the future in-laws, and the father takes control of the situation. Or rather, he takes control of the shituation (with apologies for using a bad word here but it really does apply).
I am the type of person who doesn't want anyone to even know that I am in the bathroom, much less have them see it and then have to plunge around it.
This is gross, I know, and I do apologize. But it surely was very embarassing. Highly embarassing.
To this day I will not use a bathroom where I cannot see the plunger.
oh my gawd this could be a done deal already, I am going to pee my pants.
This is my most embarrasing story of all time. I hope I never top this. (It's long, hence the link.)
HAHAHA, love the overflowing toilet water story, that was great!
One story that I can remember, is something that happened to me. I was 14, and my mom had just gotten me my first pair of high heeled shoes. They were gray slingbacks and I had a gray skirt on with a very pretty blouse.
Off we went to church. I didn't realize how slick my new shoes would be on the linoleum floor. So here I am clicking along the Church narthex, feeling all grown up and I slip. My skirt flew up and when i landed on my butt my skirt was a fair way up my legs. People could see my undies.. I was MORTIFIED!!!!!
Then on the way home we stopped at the grocery store. While we were walking across the parking lot, a guy in front of us stopped and turned to look at us commmenting when he did " good grief I thought there was a horse clopping up behind me".
Tell me, do you think I EVER wore those shoes again??
Did I tell you about the time we went to Florida in January? It was barely 70 degrees there, but to us it was a stinkin' heat wave! We got our swimsuits on and I wrapped myself in a BIG towel because I don't like wearing a swimsuit in public. My 2 kids head for the pool over by the restaurant, my husband suggests we get in the small, warm swirling pool with the pretty waterfall pouring into it. I quickly slip the towel off and we get in. We are not in there 5 minutes and my husband says he is going to go the bathroom and then check on the kids. I beg him don't leave me here alone, PLEASE. He says he'll just be a minute. As soon as he rounds the corner a group of 20-something, handsome, dark haired guys speaking something besides English come over to the little pool I am in. I move as far away from them as I can get, which isn't very far, wondering where is my husband??? I am getting uncomfortable because I can feel air pockets from the jets moving around in my one piece bathing suit. Plus it is VERY WARM in the little pool and I feel like my head is going to explode. There is no way I am going to stand up in my bathing suit to cool off--no way.
So one of the male model types decides he doesn't want the jets on anymore and shuts them off. It got very quiet except for the tinkling of the waterfall and them all talking softly. Out of nowhere, an air pocket the size of Georgia explodes out of the top of my bathing suit, with the exact sound of someone letting go of gas that has been festering in their stomach since last February. I have never seen people crank their necks around that fast in my life. I frantically tried to explain that it was my bathing suit. My bathing suit!!! See? It's a one piece and the air from the jets gets trapped...and......they are all moving, as one unit, to the far side of the the little pool and are looking around for their towels. They all climb out and I see them pass my returning husband as they quickly leave the pool area.
yuk yuk yuk, as in giggle hee hee that's a great one.
When I was 13 I went on a missions trip to Europe. It was with a bunch of teenagers and a few adults chaperoning us. My cousin, 2 tent mates and myself were going through a ritzy district in France and of course I HAD to use the bathroom - however there was NO WHERE to go as far as public facilitys so we decided to use the bathroom in a swanky - and I mean SWANKY restaurant. We made our way past the matradee, in our shorts and sandles, clinging to our backpacks for dear life until we got to the bathroom. Upon opening the door we were all apalled at how DIRTY the bathroom was. Wet toilet paper littered the floor and the sinks were less then desirable - but I HAD to go. After useing the bathroom my compadres left me to go last - of course I was the youngest. They did not wait for me in the bathroom but made thier way back to the front of the restaurant to wait for me. I left the restroom and as I passed the booths and tables of people I heard snickering and giggleing. I had NO idea what could possibly be so darn gum funny. The looks on my friends faces said it all - they looked horrified until they and the rest of the place was in complete laughter. My cousin managed to point to my shoe, where a peice of wet toilet paper had managed to stick itself - it was so long that it reached almost ALL the way back to the bathroom. I felt like going all Ruth Buzzy on everyone and beating them with my back pack but opted to run out of the place with the toilet paper attatched. Some good soul managed to step on it as I left so that I would not have to continue the embaressment through the streets of Paris....
I know this has nothing to do with a funeral, but I wanted to die - does that count?!?! LOL
Okay... This is truly one of my most embarrassing moments ever and it did happen to be at a funeral.
When my oldest was in kindergarten we only had one car. That meant that I had to walk her to school every day with the younger two in tow. I met a woman who was also walking her grand daughter to school each day and the girls were in the same class. The girls became fast friends as did the Grandma and I.
The little white girl's mama worked. She was also pregnant with twins by her black, second husband. I had only met the mother once before she gave birth to the twin girls. One of them did not make it.
It is always such a sad thing when someone loses a baby during childbirth. I really only knew the Grandma and the little girl but I felt that it was important for me to go to the funeral and to make food for the gathering afterward. I was uncomfortable walking into the chapel where the service was being held because I didn't recognize anyone. As I walked down the aisle the little girl, Megan, saw me, shouted out my name and ran to me with her arms open wide. I bent down to hug her and was touched that she was so obviously excited to see me.
Megan then grabbed me by the hand and pulled me toward the front of the chapel. She dragged me all the way up to the little casket. She wanted me to see her baby sister and I broke out in a nervous sweat. I looked into the casket and it looked like a very strange clay doll... It didn't look at all like a baby to me... I told Megan that they must have put a doll in the casket. Megan got upset and yelled, "NO! THAT IS MY DEAD BABY SISTER!"
All eyes were definitely on us then... I got nauseous and dizzy all at once and tried my best to soothe her while moving as quickly as possible to the nearest empty spot on a pew. Megan kept saying something punctuated by "my dead baby sister," every time I tried to get her attention directed elsewhere. I looked up to see several women staring at me with their mouths agape. I wanted a big hole to open up and swallow me right there.
I later found out from the Grandma that the person who prepared the baby for burial had only seen her and her daughter (the mother) and did not know the father was black. She had put so much make-up on the baby that it had begun to melt making it look the way that it did.
We all followed out to the grave site after the service. After the casket was lowered and loved ones cast in their handfuls of dirt, the mother just continued to sit in her chair holding the surviving twin. Her husband stood by her with his hand on her soldier. None of us felt we could leave until the parents did so we waited in an awkward silence. She began to sob which brought tears to the eyes of the rest of us. Then a white dove flew down to the top of the casket. As we all stood there it turned and looked at the mother for the longest time... and then it flew away. I learned later from the Grandma that her daughter couldn't bear the thought of leaving her baby there in the ground, but was able to leave after the dove had flown away and that she believed the dove had come to let her know that it was okay to do so.
oh how sad, I couldn't have an open casket at a babies funeral. If we would have had Joshua's open I might have fainted, or died myself. It's hard enough just to see those little tiny coffins.
I forgot to ask mom so the telling of this story probably wont be near as good... I was about 3 and we had gone to a funeral, I never baby talked and have always had a loud booming voice (imagine that) anyway I had to go potty and Dad was delegated to take me. when we got back of course it was quite in the funeral but EVERYONE heard me announce that I had gone potty and that i felt better and so did daddy cause he had to go potty two and he even put the lid up! my uncle leaned over to my mother and said I will never ever complain again when my kids baby talk!
Pet funerals... I have paticipated in several. Most euthanasias and pet burials are very sad and emotional times. A few stand out. Several years ago, an appointment was made for me to visit a horse ranch to 'put to sleep' a very old, favorite horse of a very kind couple. I arrived just at dusk. Usually I discourage owners from being present at horse euthanasias but this couple insisted, they knew what to expect and they were ready. We made a sad, somber small funeral procession as we led the sweet, crippled, old horse slowly along to her final resting place. They explained that a friend had agreed to come over during the day, while they were at work, and prepare a horse grave with his back-hoe, out in the far corner of their back pasture. As we walked along I could see that we were headed to a small hill that looked rather out of place on their flat midwest land. As we neared, it was obvious that it was a newly created hill, I noticed the couple exchanging looks. Everyone grew very quiet. We reached our destination. We stood at the edge of a huge gaping hole in the earth, next to it a pile of dirt large enough to ski down. I was amazed, the hole seemed large enough to place an entire house down inside. We all stood staring down. I was afraid to look up at the couple, I was doing all I could to keep from bursting with laughter. That hole was incredible! I thought they were silent with grief. I was doing my best to regain my inner composure so we could proceed. After several endless minutes, the gentleman cleared his throat and said, 'well dang... I told him we had to bury a horse not our entire herd!' With that, we all broke into belly-aching eye-tearing laughter. The mood lightened, they giggled and laughed as they patted and kissed on the old mare the last time, she perked up and looked at ease as they all said their goodbyes and she breathed her last. They actually laughed some more as we made our way back to the house that evening.
The next morning I got a call from the owner thanking me, and he said it took him all night with his little yard tractor to fill in the 'grave'. He had just gotten back in from that chore. The next on his list to call was the grave digger friend. We laughed some more. It still brings a smile to my face.....
great story Kathy, you had me all set for a hanky affair. Wouldn't it be funny if the guy with the backhoe did it on purpose to help them out?
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