So Folks, this here will be my very first blog entry! Yay! Okay, okay. Calm down. Try not to get too excited. I know I'm pretty great, but come on now. You're too kind.

Well, after a really long and hard battle, my grandfather finally passed away on Saturday. About five years ago, he collapsed in a restaurant and was taken to the hospital, where he was given a heart valve transplant. Ever since then, his health has been slowly declining. It didn't do him any good that his wife, who's 25 years younger than him (don't get me started on how the family thinks she's a gold-digger), had taken him on several extravagant trips around the world in that time that he didn't have the strength to go on. She's an idiot. This side-story can effectively sum up how weird she is:

One Christmas Day, several years ago, my family and I were hosting the Christmas Day dinner at our house. My mom had gone through all the trouble to churn out all of the family's favorite italian dishes, including an appetizer of meatballs. Now, meatballs are large, round, balls of meat; there's nothing really 'alien' about their appearance. Everyone should be able to immediately recognize a freaking meatball. Right? Wrong. So Joan, my grandfather's wife, goes up to my dad and looks at the plate of meatballs right next to him. She studies them for a minute, and then with a very puzzled expression, looks up at my dad and asks what they are. Now, my dad thinks she's kidding and just tells her that they're meatballs. I mean, what else could they be? Then she just goes "Oh..." and walks away. I don't even.... she's so weird.

You know, she's also kind of socially retarded; she just doesn't connect with people. She especially does not get the hint when you don't want to talk to her anymore. She'll just go on and on and on AND ON for HOURS about the STUPIDEST stories! You know, I generally find older peoples' stories interesting. Sure they might be long, but I'm usually intrigued by them. NOT with Joan! That woman is just plain boring. She can put inanimate objects to sleep, I swear.

She also has to constantly stick her nose into everyone else's business. For example: right after my grandfather had passed and we were in his room waiting for the crematorium to send someone to pick up the body, she starts chiding me for having something drawn on my arm. She was acting like sharpies were the gateway drug to tattoos. What the heck?! What an inappropriate time!

Okay, so, moving on from my bizarre step-grandmother's character, now there's the issue of my grandfather's estate. That should be a doozy to settle. I'm glad that I don't have to do anything; considering I'm his grandson, and not one of his kids. My uncle is handling all of the paperwork. I hope for my mom's sake that she gets some inheritance and that that stupid woman didn't spend it all. My mom really needs it; the poor thing has been working herself to death lately.

She works at See's Candies, you know? My mom? She works there as a second job. No, you can't have any candy.

You want to know something really creepy? When going through my grandfather's house and looking at things that I might want, I found his favorite grandfather clock. What was weird about it? It had stopped. Right at the time that he passed away. Creepy.

Well folks, I'm getting a tad bit depressed talking about this, so I'll end this blog here.

Cheers,

Dylan