Achoooo! Weeeeeeeetch!!

Here in the GeekCloset Cube Farm, we’re pretty packed in (yet extremely divided at the same time…odd).  As such,  wee wittle germies float from cube to cube spreading coughs, sneezes and other soundtracked maladies.  Until recently, seated across from Flippy, was a “Blesser”. What’s a Blesser you may ask? It’s someone who’s life’s goal is to say “God Bless You” to every sneeze and sniffle that bellows forth from your region.

As Flips and I both suffer from allergies (and this area is full of the yellow dust of death), the blessings overfloweth our cups. Last time I heard so many blessings, I was looking for the quickest exit at a Baptist church service.

The whole blessing thing doesn’t matter to me either way. Flips was especially irritated with it, which I find funny since I’m the one with the Falwell-sized chip on my shoulder. The blessing thing did however bring to mind some blissful blessing experiences with MommaPithy.

As I’ve alluded to, MommaPithy can be buckets o’ crazy when it comes to politics and religion. I’ve covered the politics pretty well, but have yet to get into the PraiseJesus aspect of mummy. And honestly, that would take a book,  several rounds of therapy and a whole lotta booze,  not a blog post. Seriously, the woman went though a “sackcloth and ashes” clothing phase.  (it wasn’t a REAL sackcloth, but the color scheme was inspired by sackcloth. And ashes. And crazy.)

Anyhoo, not only was MommaPithy elbow deep in the Gospels, but our neighbors were Pentecostal Puerto Ricans (PPRs).  I was surrounded by plantains, purity rings and prayer. The PPRs would also work in “Dios le Bendiga” (God Bless You) in every other sentence.  I’m totally making it a drinking game on my next visit.

Now MommaPithy and the PPRs had vastly different religious views, (unnoticeable to those outside of our religious circle of crazy, i.e. the real world) and therefor would bicker endlessly about the Bible while sipping Cafe con Leche. One of many sticking points was that MommaPithy didn’t believe in women pastors. She called more than one female clergy a witch. Or “weeeeeeeeeeeeetch.”

Therefore when she would sneeze and the weeeeeeeeeeetch would say “God Bless You” I would have to endure a diatribe that sounded remarkably like this:

MommaPithy: <snort> I don like dat weeeeeeeeeeeetch blessing me. I don know what God jew servie, ees not my God, jew weeeeeeeeeeeetch.

Pithy:  …

MommaPithy: Jew laughy, but jew just wait. Jew will see. Es malo. Ess verrrry, verrrrry bad. Weeeeeetch.

I also had to endsure the same diatribe should some random in the grocery store dare speak the Three Words of Doom. Only replace weeeeeeeeeeetch with heeeeathen.  Or  deeeeeeeeeemon. Depended on her mood that day.

She’s thankfully gotten over that phase.  She left the Original Recipe Buckets O’ Crazy church/cult/loony bin I grew up in and has now replaced it kindler, gentler crazy platter. She no longer calls female pastors “weeeeeeeetcheees”, though she does still say that about any female Democrat. New crazy platter comes with a female pastor and thier own bible. Yes, they wrote thier own version of the bible. And they’re Colombian.

At least MommaPithy no longer has the calendar counting down to the end of world.

“Dee Trrrribulacion ess coming!”


~ by pithycomments on October 22, 2008.

One Response to “Achoooo! Weeeeeeeetch!!”

  1. Hee… we have a common friend who must, at risk of spotaneous combustion if she didn’t, also respond to each and every sneeze. I found myself one day retorting, “why?” and insisting on an answer beyond “I don’t know.” I wish I could say that was the cure but sadly, no.

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