Annual Letter from Your Midwestern Grandma

Dearest Eldest (or Blondest) Grandchild, Seasonal greetings from [Insert region that begins with “Central”]. I rarely get to see you because your heretical parents keep you from me, and apparently, your generation does not “do” telegrams. As such, I will tell you about my year–2022–in extreme detail in this letter for your perusing. Be prepared to put on your +10x reading glasses for this second-t0second insight into your dearest 39-year-old (ha ha) Grandma’s life.

On January 1st, 2022, I slept w ell despite some back pain from my recent surgery. Nevertheless, I woke up on January 2nd determined to clean my house! Low and behold, I found five unopened extra-large boxes of kitty-litter in your late step-grandfathers spare closet next to his nickel collection that I won’t let his birth-children inherit. Who would have thought!

Unfortunately, on January 3rd, I found the cat dead. Seemingly, someone had shut the door to an adjacent closet behind him, locking him in, and seeing that no one has been in my house besides me since 2006, I suppose this incident was my doing. Oh well; better him than me, not that your parents would notice. For the next month, I opened every closet and cleaned. No, there were no more cats I forgot about, just a small troll that perished (ha ha). As you know, I am an artisté. I do plentiful work with the community center and church.

On February 3rd, I was pleased to attend the 1,000th meeting of the Floozy Femmes of Needle Point, where snitches get extra stitches (ha ha). We are working on our marketing post-revolution of the World Wide Web. Speaking of, I watched the Social Network on February 21st. You should find a nice man like Mark to take care of you; he has a rugged way with words, and I bet he goes to church.

Of course, March and April were the months of doctors appointments. I made sure to let the surgeons know I was part of the Floozy Femmes of Needle Point, but they were not as impressed with my work with a needle as their own. Lots of stitches, but very few snitches unfortunately, mostly because you do not return my telegrams damning your parents. When you’re older, we’ll discuss surgeon needles more.

In May and June, I was feeling well enough for a road trip. I rented a vehicle with some ladies and traveled from [Insert region that begins with “Central”] to [Insert region that begins with “Central” that is at least 36 hours by car from the previous region]. Why suffer Gilly’s irritated bowels on the road for that long, you ask? For Dead and Company, of course, and all the Waffle Houses along the way. Your Grammy is a fun time (ha ha ha).

I visited my 120-year-old Grandma in Georgia for Independence Day. We ate our traditional barbecue [picture roadkill with a lot of brown barbecue sauce]. I hauled booty out of there before August heat hit. It had nothing to do with the unwarranted Church-Lady criticism I faced from my own flesh-and-blood…

[For publishing purposes, WUnderground has chosen to redact ten more pages explaining the crisp Fall Apple Season that Grandma enjoyed so deeply]

…And with that, my little angel-bug-sweet-cake, I leave you with a prayer for your consideration:

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name

Give us this day our daily bread and spirits,

And forgive us our highly judgemental trespasses into the personal privacy of others,

And watch closely upon us, but not too closely, especially not in the liquor cabinet

Or the drawer next to my bed, And forgive my grandchild’s dear parents for being worshippers of Satan, or worse, a Jewish g-d, Lord knows they need it. Amen.

I love you bunches, my Eldest (or Blondest) Grandchild, Grandma

Little Asshole Thinks He’s Something Special

Well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball.

In a stunning display of injustice, Mom and Dad–I mean someone else’s mom and dad–have lowered their standards for praise. Now, and here is the kicker, they haven’t lowered their standards for me, just my– I mean someone else’s–little brother.

What’s that thing called again when someone has two separate sets of standards for different people? This reporter is having a hard time remembering.

Last Friday, little Rutherford overcame the gravitational challenges of his 18th century name and his fat fuck head to stumble 4 steps before collapsing under the weight of his own athletic magnificence. I mean, what a journey. Thank God my parents were there to shower him in positive reinforcement because without it

I’m unsure if the kid with the object permanence of a pineapple would internalize how far he advanced civilization. These parents probably never heard the end of Neil Armstrong’s famous quote because they were applauding too loud after he said, “That’s one small step”. What about this kid’s brother? Isn’t he walking to and from scary classes all day where smart people talk about important topics like projecting and narcissism? No, in a tragedy akin to a thousand 9/11s, all someone else’s mom talks about is how excited she is to have the joyful pitter patter of little feet in her home while ignoring how brave her big boy is.

"BROTHERHOOD,

"They wanna be us soooooo bad"

Prefers men

"When women got the right to vote is when it all went downhill."

"Logan was the cutest, but he just couldn’t work the stage like Kendall, and neither of them have James’s charisma."

Point: Pikers is a good name for an acapella group.

I

Counterpoint: My 13 year old brother named his band that by combining every slur he knows.

Duck, Duck, Canada Goose: How to Spot Which Students Will Overpay for Your Shitty Weed

Instagram - if they have any pictures from rooftop bars in Manhattan, they’re loaded and just smoking to look cool; slide in those DMs.

Management 101 - Keep an eye out for any Armani suits. Actually, you can just keep an ear out. They will bring it up.

Wallace Garage - This is one of the easiest ways to pick up customers: just slip your Telegram @ on the windshields of any Teslas, BMWs, or G-Wagons you see. Any teenager driving something that costs more than your tuition won’t miss that extra 40$/gram.

Greek Life - no worldly person with half a brain would want to claim affiliation with Greek Life at WashU, plus, you get to scam preda- tors. This is a fantastic way to do your part to bring down the 1%.

Stanley’s - look out for which students pick up a Dragon roll every day. You know they’re on the platinum meal plan; they might as well feed you, too. And even though your shit sucks, it’ll still probably make that Midwest sushi taste better, so it’s a real win-win.

And remember, if some San Francisco snob tries to ask what strain you’re pedaling, just spit out some color + celestial object + food item. It’s blue jupiter mochi, now pay up and quit acting like you don’t vacation in the Swiss Alps every summer.