Oh, dear. He’s back.
Yes, we were at church on Sunday. We have unfinished business. We are, you know, making people offers they can’t refuse and whatnot.
The problem is I may be slightly addicted to this particular little sideshow. Part of me is enjoying a bit too much being on the fringe of this church, doing my research on it, and seeing that what I read is totally true Sunday after Sunday. Something IS rotten in the state of Denmark. But something is rotten with me because it’s all I can do not to waltz into this place with a bag of popcorn every Sunday.
Or, you know, burst into tears.
I was sitting alone for a few moments before the service started Sunday. Most people seem to drag in late during worship, so the place was basically empty. Out of nowhere — and I still don’t know how he does this — Perky Bob appeared and plopped down in the row in front of me.
Oh, no.
“Hi!”
“Hey, Bob, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m great! I just got back from Maryland, seeing my grandkids!”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Yeah. I don’t wanna brag but my new baby grandson puts the Gerber Baby to shame.”
“Aww. I’m sure he does. Sounds like you had a great time.”
“Yeah! So … what about you? Do you have grandkids?”
Excuse me? Do I have GRANDKIDS??? Uhm, I’m sorry, I can’t answer that because I need to go slit my wrists if you think I look old enough to have GRANDKIDS.
GRANDKIDS??
GRANDKIDS???
No, but, guess what, Perky Bob, my arteries are now instantly hardening and sudden glaucoma is taking my sight and I feel the imminence of a tragic and unholy urinary incontinence.
Good GOD. Just ask me to lunch instead.
“Uh, no,” I said, “no, I don’t.”
“Oh, okay.”
No, Perky Bob. It’s not okay. And unless I know that you have to clean the pee stain I just left on the pew cushion, it will NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN.
EVER!!
SOB.
So yeah…it’s probably really unChristian of me to enjoy your stories about this place so much, especially since the people there clearly have their issues. You know, gossip and all. But it’s like a train wreck, I just can’t stay away. 🙂 Grandkids? Seriously? Who ARE these people?
OH MY GOSH!!!!
Ummm…wow. Though I know that it’s a social faux paux that we’ve all done – ok, maybe not all of us.
If it’s any consolation, a friend of mine was the matron of honor for her sister-in-law’s wedding. The photographer’s assistant asked her if she was the mother of the bride. She’s not even 40 yet.
Kathi — Oh, no! That’s awful.
I don’t know. Now I’m paranoid. That photo on my about page is current. DO I LOOK LIKE A GAMMIE????
AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Katie — I know. It’s horrible. It’s now anthropologically and spiritually interesting to me. In a rubbernecking kind of way. MB may have to drag me away.
Although, the flip side here is that there’s the Outing Person and I’m pretty sad about that whole situation. Well, devastated by this person’s actions. So there’s that side that’s kind of personal and then there’s the cultural side of this church that’s just nutty. It’s SO subtle — I can see how people are sucked in. Another part of the story still to tell …..
Does this church encourage you to marry at, say, the age of 14?? Because that is the only way YOU and all your gorgeousness could be a GRANDMOTHER.
I’m sucked into the church as well, as you know. I’m encouraged to look up some services in my area and checking it out.
You know, a tag-team bicoastal cray-cray sting operation.
While I completely and utterly don’t think you look anything like a gammie, I have come to question my own perceptions as I have friends just three, four and five years older than me having grandkids. It’s scary.
sheila — Hahahahahahaha. Are there any in your area? I can check for you. I’m dying thinking of our Sheila at this particular “family of churches.”
Cullen — Well, that’s true. People can start REALLY young or marry into a situation where they’re a “gammie” — stepgammie or something. But generally, gammies are a certain age. Not mine. Here, again, though was Perky Bob and his social, uhm, retardation.
I’m stunned. Unless you were wearing a muumuu with your dd’s bobbling at your knees I can’t imagine someone asking you that.
Tracey – there is, indeed, one that is near me.
Hmmmm.
NONONONONONO. He did NOT. You do not look gammie-aged! That’s crazy.
Wow.
Oh, Bob, Bob…what is with you anyway? *eyeroll*
Now I AM a gammie and I just turned 40 (or I suppose a step-gammie, to be more accurate, but even so, my husband is only 42).
And I would still be horrified if anyone asked me that question.
DUDE. Not. Cool.
MM — Yeah, I know that about your stepgammie status, but that’s different. I’m sure you do NOT look like a gammie!!
Men (and women) in general — DON’T ASK A WOMAN IF SHE’S A GAMMIE!!
Don’t do it.
sheila — Oh, I’m torn. I so want to BEG you to check it out, but then, what if there’s an East Coast Perky Bob??
Tracey – I am actually going there SPECIFICALLY to meet an East Coast Perky Bob.
If I don’t meet a Perky Bob, I will be very very disappointed.
My immediate response: “She’s no gammie!!!!”
What was wrong with asking just, “How was your WEEKEND???”
Brian — Hahahahahaha! No, the saucy D’s were hidden away inside, you know, my film noir bra.
Kate P — Yeah. That’s a safe question. Exactly. I can make up all kinds of stuff to answer that one.
That ranks right up there with “oh, when are you due?”
Dude, THINK before you faux pas!
After looking back at the title of this post, I think it should be called, “The Fall of Perky Bob.”
Perky Bob is a bit of a blunderbuss, ain’t he?
Perky Bob only relates to cheery Yes or No based conversations, where the topic is church or children. It is his only way to relate to the fairer sex. To ask “How was your weekend” leaves him open to … oh … the unknown. Actually being in a position to get to KNOW someone, and to NOT know what he is about to hear. This fills Perky Bob with terror. This is my analysis from across the country, having never met the man.
Sheila makes a good point.
After my comment, I wondered if anybody else thought of what I’m pretty sure is a scene from “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing” where Peter gets in trouble for “bouncing the question ball” back to the school nurse, whose question was about, uh, going number two? I can’t remember if that’s where I read it, but if so, then Perky Bob needs to go back to fourth grade (in the ’80s) to review when it’s appropriate to bounce the question ball back and when it’s not.
sheila — /This is my analysis from across the country, having never met the man./
Hahahahahaha.
Kate P — /Perky Bob needs to go back to fourth grade to review when it’s appropriate to bounce the question ball back and when it’s not./
That’s killing me.