Kind of blue. Not so much cornflower blue. More Midnight Blue. Ohhhhhhhh.

It's looking like Grandpa F's days are numbered (but aren't they all?) He's in a hospice. I'm already hunkered down for a funeral, but on the off chance he survives, hoping for the best. Whatever that means.

In the meanwhile, I'm having some awfully odd reactions to this news. I know we all grieve differently, but this is ridiculous:

WAYS I AM REACTING TO FIRST CLOSE ENCOUNTER WITH DEATH OF AN IMMEDIATE FAMILY MEMBER
And I'm 31. Cripes. Something to be said for dumb luck.

-Feeling very Irish-wakish: pathetically grateful he's had a long and mostly happy life and isn't in any pain, just basically propped up at this point
-Getting drunk and calling people
-Doing karaoke, except replacing most of the words with "something, something, words...awww, fACK."
-Getting Shipoopi! from THE MUSIC MAN stuck in head, which I hate
-Feeling like leaping up in air and clicking heels together like a freaking leprechaun while singing same
-Sitting on a park bench (how heavy is that shit?)
-Feeling like a dead duck
-Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come
-Wondering why mourning involves so many weirdo song lyrics
-Buying unnecessary lip gloss
-Buying more unnecessary lip gloss
-All things in excess! WoO!!
-Getting hair done so don't look like sh*t at funeral; then being happy no one has noticed damn $100 rat's nest (though this, in my book, is the mark of a good haircut.)
-Getting...other stuff
-The Raging Horn
-Having Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey, except about my grandpa.

(And I thought my ex was strange, when his father died, for getting a freaking TATTOO and wanting to...nevermind.)

So if I should disappear suddenly, you're probably safe to assume it's either a) funeral, or b) all of the above.

Thank you, drive through, and God bless America.

Fart.