formerly a fearless temp

This afternoon my mother got a phone call from Sister Joan, a nun who I'm distantly related to through my father's side of the family. She called because she was worried about my grandfather.

"Why?" My mother asked.

"Well," Sister Joan said, "We were at lunch the other day and he was quite upset. You see, while we were picketing at [Local All Girls' College] handing out literature, Jim got tired and decided to tie his placard to the college's fence and the college president came out and yelled at him. I think it upset him. I tried to call him today but he sounded funny – could you go check on him?"

For those of you playing along at home who are unfamiliar with my grandfather's antics, the literature he's handing out is of the Pro-Life kind, and yes, he does go down to this poor college on a weekly basis to harass the female students. And yes, if you're wondering, I do know people who go there. And it is just as embarrassing as you might imagine.

Anyway, so my mother called and went down there and found the bedroom door shut and figured my grandfather was napping – it was his usual nap time. When I got home from work, she told me the whole story and I agreed, and all was hunky dory.

Until it got to be eight o'clock and we hadn't heard anything from my grandfather. Like, at all. My mother left him a message and we stood in the kitchen staring at each other over the pan of pork chops we'd just taken out of the oven.

"Should we call him?" My mother asked.

I stared at the yummy pork chops. "Before or after dinner?"

After a pointed look from my mother, I called and, naturally, no answer. I left a semi-frantic message on his machine and then stood awkwardly in the kitchen for five minutes waiting for him to call back before jumping into the minivan and jetting over to his house.

The whole way over I thought: He's dead. This is it. I'm going to find him dead. And then we got there and the lights were on, and I thought: He's alive. I'm going to kill him.

I went into the house and there he was! Eating dinner in front of the TV!

"Grandpa!" I announced. "We've been trying to call you!"

"Hello dear," he said, all nonchalantly. "Yes, I know. I was watching Jeopardy when you called so I didn't pick up."

And then I did a double take because, hello! Frantic message on machine! Answering machine RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! Pick! Up! The phone! Let us know you're not dead! For the love of God, is that so much to ask?! Those weren't my exact words, of course.

And after I'd given him a brief lecture on the merits of prompt message retrieval and phone call returning, I decided to make a break for it. Pork chops awaiting me and all. But then. But THEN. He turned the big eyes on me and went,

"Sit down, dear. It's so nice to have someone to talk to."

And, you know, direct hit. So I sat down and prepared to talk about work or the weather or whatever, certainly not what I thought I was going to talk about. He asked me about my job, I asked him about his day, which led to a conversation where he explained to me how:

-Planned Parenthood controls the media

-No, wait, it's Planned Parenthood in conjunction with homosexuals who control the media and, therefore, all the world's thoughts

-The reason I don't believe the above (or anything that comes after) is because I have been brainwashed. Apparently it was my seven years of public school that did it; I didn't have the heart to break it to him that I voted for George Bush in my seventh grade election and that it was while I was at my Catholic high school that my Inner Liberal flourished.

-Homosexual sex is wrong because "the plumbing isn't right" and because "God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve"

-When asked why he cares so much about homosexuality, he explained to me that he cares so much about homosexual sex is because they're responsible for HIV

-When it's pointed out that the above makes no sense, he explains that the reason they're responsible for HIV is because (now this is where it gets really fun) it is through "unnatural homosexual sex" that HIV is spread and – get this – how it was created in the first place. Now this is a direct quote: "The penis is too large for the anus and it causes tearing and disease." I think I blacked out after that, so I don't know if he got any more detailed.

-When it is pointed out that that is, of course, insane, he simply repeats the above, realizing how his graphic description of sex debilitates his granddaughter and, therefore, limits her ability to argue

-When asked how Lesbians fit into the whole equation, he explained that they are victims of a psychological disorder of some kind.

-And how does he know all this? God says so. In the Bible.

-When it is pointed out that the Bible's theme is more "Love thy neighbor" and "Judge not lest ye be judged" and not so much "Hate the gays," he reverts to the Plumbing Is Wrong argument.

-And if that failed, he went back to the graphic sex description. He knew what his kill move was.

I'm telling you. It was an experience. My contributions to the discussion consisted mainly of:

-Are you INSANE? That makes NO SENSE!

-Do you have a direct line to God? Is that how you know so much about natural law?

-Being gay is NOT like being an alcoholic!

and

-Are you INSANE? That makes NO SENSE!

The thing is, my grandfather and I are similar in a lot of ways, which is why we're such a terrible combination. We're both convinced that we're right, and that if we talk to someone long enough about something, they'll come around because, you know, we're right. And so we sat there for what felt like forever talking in circles because we each were convinced that we could convince the other to See The Light.

It just, it made my head hurt. I can't stand it when people are so illogical! It bothers me! And, you know, the things he's saying are mean and wrong and I can't bear to hear them coming out of the mouth of someone I love! And it makes no sense! Does he listen to himself talk? And anyway, what business does he have discussing sex in a graphic manner with me? That's just gross! I don't want to hear my grandfather talk about sex! It's just...wrong. And gross. Gross and wrong.

Anyway. That was my evening. I think I'm going to climb in bed and watch my tape of Buffy and try to erase the memory of my grandfather using the words "penis" and "anus" and "sex" from my mind. Sounds like a plan.

I'm sure you all have been sitting on the edges of your seats, waiting for an update on the saga of my mildly ghetto car. Tonight is your lucky night!

I went up to Monro today to get my inspection done, and also to figure out if the 85 repairs the dealership told me I absolutely had to get were legit since the reason I supposedly needed these repairs was because I couldn't pass inspection without them. And so I went and sat there and had braced myself to shell out like nine hundred bucks when the mechanic came out and was all, "Jessica? Your car is done. That'll be fourteen dollars." And I was all, "Fourteen dollars?!?! The car is ok?? No repairs?" and the guy was all, "No, you're good to go for another year," and I was all, "Really? Everything's ok?" and he was all, "Yes, and it'll be fourteen dollars," and so on and so on until I gathered myself enough to hand over my check card.

Those BASTARDS at the dealership! They were going to ROB me! They were LYING! The BASTARDS! Can you believe it? They were going to make me pay through the nose for repairs I DON'T NEED! The BASTARDS!

The upshot of the whole sitch is that now I want to erect a shrine in Monro Muffler's honor. Because they rock. Last year I had to wait to get my inspection and they fixed something on my car for free because I had to wait. I heart them.

After the dealership, my Big Fun Saturday continued with a trip to my grandfather's to help him make a copy. He knew I was coming and when I got there he was asleep, and so I spent an hour sitting in his kitchen, eating no-sugar-added ice cream (which was better than I expected), and watching the Mets while waiting for him to wake up. I told myself I was being nice and considerate, but really I just wanted to sit in the AC and watch the Mets. After an hour I gave up on letting him sleep and went upstairs to ask him what needed to be photocopied, passing a series of Pro-Life pamphlets along the way which I turned over as I passed. The best ones? "Conceived in Rape: A Story of Hope" and the bookmarks with a dead fetus laid out on the American flag. Very nice.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, if you ever want an ego boost, go help a senior citizen with one of their technological problems. I blew my grandfather away when I pointed out the surge protector in his room and informed him that it needed to be plugged into the wall for the copier, which was plugged into the surge protector, to work. And then I copied the bill he needed and typed up an envelope and he was just so WOW about the whole thing. It was pretty funny. I did end up blowing a fuse but I fixed it (which I know is very simple, but for a ditz like myself it's a major accomplishment). It took two tries, but I fixed it.

I left while Grandpa was mid church lecture ("It's so simple, God gives us so many hours during the week and to give one back to him on Sunday, blah blah blah") and held myself back from saying, "Well, bud, I try to be a good person for God and my fellow man all the week long, not just for an hour on Sunday, and were you aware that you have to get up early for mass? So ridiculous!" but then I realized that my argument was slightly flawed because of the whole Saturday afternoon mass thing and the fact that I spaced and missed my blood donation appointment on Wednesday afternoon so I really haven't been doing much for God or my fellow man as of late.

Anyway, then spent the evening with Anna eating an obscene amount of pasta salad and watching Hedwig and the Angry Inch, another one of those movies I liked but am not sure I fully understood because I can be dumb with these things. I tell myself it's just that I need a couple viewings to really capture the nuances and understand the layered meanings and emotional truths of a film, but really it's more likely that I'm just a bit dumb and need to see things twice to Get Them. Maybe more than twice.

And so went my Saturday. Such an exciting life, isn't it? I wonder what wacky adventures I will have tomorrow! I think I might go to WALMART! Woohoo!