the bottom of the barrel

you'd think i'd have better sense.

i mean really, it was three days in desolate, destroyed new orleans for my grandmother's funeral. you'd think i'd leave it alone and not try to extract blog material.

but really, when the rabbi flips open his cell phone to check his messages during "silent prayer" how can you not tell EVERYONE?

i'd be more irritated with the rabbi for this irreverent act if this tiny gesture of disrespect wasn't so completely eclipsed by:
1) my running out in the middle of evening service to go throw up (in my defense, not alcohol related)- i'm told you get no style points for vomiting on religious leaders
2) multiple grown-ups rolling their eyes, sniggering, and whispering at each other during evening service- for heaven's sakes people, just look at your feet!
3) cousin blowing off funeral due to hangover (but having the chutzpah to show up at the after-party)

and it didn't stop there. there was the CNN crew at the funeral, for reasons that remain unclear. there was the guy on the riding lawn mower in the cemetery next door, who when politely told that he was drowning out the eulogy switched over to the leaf blower instead (especially when you think about the absurdity of leaf-blowing under the hurricane ravaged circumstances).

griping aside, i really do enjoy my family.

there was my ever-trendy mom, who for once didn't quite have her finger on the pulse: "do you have the green day cd? they sound like REM, right?"

my father, whose blind faith in my abilities led to bitter disappointment, as he tried in vain, over and over, to get me to play piano duets with him, unwilling to believe that i could no longer read music, play the piano, or keep up. he seemed so shocked that it sounded so bad.

and for those of us who have made an art-form out of confabulating excuses to break up with people, there was my brother, who told me that he didn't ask a girl on a second date because, "she wasn't sure who rosa parks was."

the ranting may be tacky, but it sure feels good.