March 3, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): There's no sense in hoarding all that great social energy -- it's flowing through you and needs an outlet! Make new friends or find someone who needs a lift, as you can improve any mood.
Laura’s Log:
My role at the funeral home seems vague. I think Theodore just likes the company. I suppose if my life were surrounded by corpses, I’d feel the same way. The service this morning was SRO. Beforehand, people were spilling over into the office, eager to share with anyone—that’s me—an anecdote about Mrs. Millicent Bowry-Jacobs, daughter, wife, sister, teacher, friend booster. Hearing them talk, I wanted so much to have known this woman. And I wanted to be part of the circle of love that she brought out. They were clearly distraught and yet the positive memories seemed to overtake each person I encountered.
Except for the plumber. Yes, Richard stopped by before AND after the service. “You can call me Dick,” he said, attempting to be lewd. At a funeral. Nice. I have a feeling Millicent did everything she could to put Dick in his place.
He asked me out, of course. Down, Dick, down. It was the one time when “no” came out of my mouth with the greatest of ease.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
SHOWED UP TO THE FORERUNNERS GROUP & WAS IMMEDIATELY EMBARRASSED. “IS THIS A WOMEN’S GROUP?” I ASKED.
“OH, NO,” SAID A VERY CHEERY FORTY-FIVE-YEAR-OLD FLIGHT ATTENDANT TYPE. “RON USUALLY COMES. BUT LESLIE SAYS HE HAS SHIN SPLINTS.”
“SO I’M IT?” AND THEN, IN MY HEAD: I’M IT! MY GOD! NO COMPETITION! IT WAS LIKE SOMEONE SNUCK ME INTO THE SORORITY HOUSE. OR THE SORORITY MOMS’ HOUSE. INTRODUCTIONS CAME IN A FLURRY. MEG, MARGIE, MADDIE, TWO MELISSAS. WHAT’S W/ALL THE Ms? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KEEP IT ALL STRAIGHT?
NO NEED FOR CONCERN. ONCE WE STARTED THE RUN, THE LADIES LEFT ME IN THEIR WAKE. EMBARRASSING ONCE AGAIN. MALE EGO CRUSHED. AND A SERIOUS CALF CRAMP.
Showing posts with label funeral home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funeral home. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
DON'T LET IT DIE JUST YET
March 1, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): It's the perfect day for getting out there and showing others what you've got. That could mean speed-dating or it could mean hanging out quietly with friends -- it's totally up to you.
Laura’s Log:
Back to the grind. I am filling in for one week, maybe two, as an administrative assistant for Theodore Plowright, the world’s giddiest funeral director. Frankly, I think I prefer the solemn, pale stereotype. Despite watching the first two seasons of “Six Feet Under”, I still picture morticians as being like Alvin Brickrock on an episode of “The Flintstones”. Poor Ingrid Hauerstrom. As she met to finalize matters for her husband Lars, Theodore kept laughing as he recalled Edgar Bergen routines with his dummy Charlie McCarthy. Freakier than a circus clown if you ask me. I’m sure Ingrid would concur.
Had another strange experience this afternoon, arising from tragic circumstances. A twenty-seven year old man lost his wife to a car accident on the weekend. Distraught, he brought along a buddy to be with him as he met with Theodore. While I’m usually the last to know, I’d swear the friend was flirting with me. Told me I looked like Joannie Rochette, “only prettier”. (I’m thinking he’s still drunk from last night’s Team Canada victory celebration.) Left me his business card on his way out—“In case you ever need a good plumber. I’m great with my snake.” Creepy. And gross. With some people, it’s so clear why they’re single.
Gosh, I wonder if that applies to me in the eyes of others.
If Theodore takes on the personality of a gregarious buffoon, at least I can balance things out at the funeral home with a healthy dose of depressing thoughts.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
O CANADA! I MUST HAVE SUNG THE NATIONAL ANTHEM THIRTY TIMES YESTERDAY. I EVEN (SORT OF) MASTERED A FRENCH VERSE, THANKS TO COLLEGE BUD MATTIEU WHO FLEW IN FROM MONTRÉAL TO ENJOY THE LAST WEEKEND OF THE GAMES.
I’M NOT READY TO END THE PARTY. THE MONDAY WORK ROUTINE ONLY PUT A MOMENTARY STOP TO THE CELEBRATION. THE GUYS & I ARE HITTING SOME BARS IN YALETOWN TONITE. LUCKILY, I’LL BE ABLE TO CRAWL HOME. NOT A MOLSON CANADIAN CONNOISSEUR, BUT IT’S THE PERFECT DRINK FOR THE MOMENT.
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): It's the perfect day for getting out there and showing others what you've got. That could mean speed-dating or it could mean hanging out quietly with friends -- it's totally up to you.
Laura’s Log:
Back to the grind. I am filling in for one week, maybe two, as an administrative assistant for Theodore Plowright, the world’s giddiest funeral director. Frankly, I think I prefer the solemn, pale stereotype. Despite watching the first two seasons of “Six Feet Under”, I still picture morticians as being like Alvin Brickrock on an episode of “The Flintstones”. Poor Ingrid Hauerstrom. As she met to finalize matters for her husband Lars, Theodore kept laughing as he recalled Edgar Bergen routines with his dummy Charlie McCarthy. Freakier than a circus clown if you ask me. I’m sure Ingrid would concur.
Had another strange experience this afternoon, arising from tragic circumstances. A twenty-seven year old man lost his wife to a car accident on the weekend. Distraught, he brought along a buddy to be with him as he met with Theodore. While I’m usually the last to know, I’d swear the friend was flirting with me. Told me I looked like Joannie Rochette, “only prettier”. (I’m thinking he’s still drunk from last night’s Team Canada victory celebration.) Left me his business card on his way out—“In case you ever need a good plumber. I’m great with my snake.” Creepy. And gross. With some people, it’s so clear why they’re single.
Gosh, I wonder if that applies to me in the eyes of others.
If Theodore takes on the personality of a gregarious buffoon, at least I can balance things out at the funeral home with a healthy dose of depressing thoughts.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
O CANADA! I MUST HAVE SUNG THE NATIONAL ANTHEM THIRTY TIMES YESTERDAY. I EVEN (SORT OF) MASTERED A FRENCH VERSE, THANKS TO COLLEGE BUD MATTIEU WHO FLEW IN FROM MONTRÉAL TO ENJOY THE LAST WEEKEND OF THE GAMES.
I’M NOT READY TO END THE PARTY. THE MONDAY WORK ROUTINE ONLY PUT A MOMENTARY STOP TO THE CELEBRATION. THE GUYS & I ARE HITTING SOME BARS IN YALETOWN TONITE. LUCKILY, I’LL BE ABLE TO CRAWL HOME. NOT A MOLSON CANADIAN CONNOISSEUR, BUT IT’S THE PERFECT DRINK FOR THE MOMENT.
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