The Shredder

Phone call transcription:

"Anyu, what do you want for your birthday?"'

"A man..."

"Walmart is fresh out of those, what else?"

"A nice rich husband to take me out dancing."

" Yes, that's located in the same isle as 'Man', and that isle is closed due to severe shortages...Seriously, mom, do you need anything?"

"I vant a paper shredder."

"Wait, didn't I already buy you a paper shredder a while ago?"

"I gave it avay."

"Well, if you didn't need it then, why do you need it now?"

"I don't vant anyvon to go through my trash and find my social security number."

"Then why did you give away your paper shredder?"

"I vanted to look good."

"...so you gave someone a USED paper shredder?"

"Yah, so I need another von."

"Are you going to keep it this time?"

"Yes. But your aunt might need it. And then you can just buy me anodder von next year."

"Well, why don't I just buy you TWO paper shredders so you can keep one and give the other one to her for her birthday? You know, from both of us?"

"Vhat are you talkink about, are you crazy? I don't need two shredders! Just buy me a good von, not some El Cheapo von from dah Dollar Store."

"They don't sell shredders at the Dollar Store."

"And don't you dare give me YOUR shredder, Stephie, you need dat! For your important documents."

"I don't give people used paper shredders as gifts, Anyu, I think you're the only one on the planet that does that.

"You make sure you shred all important documents, you hear me, Stephie?"

"Yes, okay, I'll shred all my important documents. And while I'm at it, I'll shred my driver's license, birth certificate and social security card."

"Nooooooo!"

"Oh, my gosh, I'm kidding, Anyu. Don't worry, I shred what I need to shred."

"Don't photocopy your social security card, Stephie. Don't give it to anyvon, you can't trust it! If you copied it, make sure you shred it. But don't cut your fingers."

"Okay. I have to go now."

"Vatch your fingers!"

"Okay."

"And shred credit card offers, don’t just throw them dah garbage."

"Okay, mom, I gotta go."

"So, did you buy your aunt a shredder, too?"

"No, Anyu, please, I have to go."

"Because I don't tink she needs one now, but her burstday is not until September. You remember, right?"

"Yes, September 1st, I remember. Listen, mom, I really gotta go."

"Are you still coming for my burstday?"

"Yes! That's why I was calling, to see what you needed!"

"Vait vait vait! It's your burstday, too! Vhat do you vant? Be honest, do you need a shredder, too?"

"Jesus, mother, we are not exchanging shredders for our birthdays! I told you, I have a shredder! To be honest with you, for my birthday, your gift to me should be you buying YOURSELF a shredder so we can never, ever speak about shredders ever again!"

"So vhat do you vant?"

"Just some Poppy Seed Beigli (Hungarian Dessert Roll) from the farmer's market. That's all I want. Really. Don't buy me a shredder."

"No shredder?"

"Seriously. No shredder."

"Vhat if dey don't have the poppy seed?"

"Then get me the walnut kind, I don't care."

"But vhat if they don't have it? Sometimes they don't have it."

"Mom, I really don't need anything..."

"But the valnut..."

"I'm sorry I asked! Um...pineapple. I like pineapples. Just buy me one pineapple and put a bow on it, that's all I really want."

"Pineapple? I'm going to look cheap if I only give you a pineapple."

"Then buy me 500 pineapples! Mother! I gotta goooooooo! Please! Don't worry about my gift! I'll see you later!"

"Okay. You bring the shredder. Don't forget it at your house."

"Okay!"

"...and not a cheap von."

"Okay, bye."

*click*

So, okay, everyone, I need a little help. My mom’s birthday and my birthday are both on May 3rd, so if you can find her a husband who already owns a paper shredder, that would be enough of a gift for all of us. She likes long phone conversations, long walks on the beach, and really long chest hair. Any takers?

Snacky Cakes®

On April 5th this year, Nagymama turned 97-years-old. To celebrate such a momentous occasion, I decided to make a platter of ninety-seven of her favorite Snacky Cakes® for her to enjoy.

"You're freakin' crazy," my mom said over the phone. "Where you gonna get ninety-seven cakes?"

"Snacky Cakes®, mom, yah know, the Little Debbie kind that she pretends to bake for all the neighbors."

"You know, Nagymama, she just von't eat! Your aunt cooks her all dese nutritious foods, spinach, soft paprikas, everyting, and for some reason she just don't eat!"

"But she still eats cake, right?"

"Yes, vell, but she should eat more than just cake."

"Okay, then, I'll put some brownies in there, too."

Don't get me wrong, I am a big believer in health food, but once I am 97-years-old, I'm not going to eat spinach, either. If you make it past 90, you should be allowed to eat whatever the heck you want. If Nagymama asked to eat nothing but Cool Whip, chocolate sauce, and vodka off the tanned body of a male stripper, I'd wouldn't really blame her. It would just give me more to write about.

Despite my mother's apprehension, I went to the local grocery store to pick up Nagymama's ninety-seven little gifts. I must have looked like a lunatic in the pastry isle:
"Okay, Zebra Cakes come in packs of ten, but Honey Buns come in packs of six, and Butterscotch Krimpets come in packs of twelve. Which Snacky Cake® combinations should I use to get to ninety-seven without going over? The square root of the Cosmic Brownies divided by the radius of a Swiss Roll is...pie?"

After trying to do the math on my cell phone, I decided to just buy buttloads of them and feed the excess Snacky Cakes® to my roommate. I put together a fabulous spread in a big Tupperware cake saver (pictured above), put the lid on, and decorated the top with a pair of "Sock" Papucs (the socks with the little plastic grippies on the bottom). I also added to the Earth's growing trash problem (pictured below).
The next day, I called my mom to let her know I was "dropping by". My cousins get mad at me if I give more than four hours' notice before coming home because my mother frequently panics endlessly about my hour-and-a-half commute. "Did you talk to Stephie? Vhen is she comink? Is she brinking anyvon? Who's drivink? Are you goink to vatch movies? How many? Is Richard Gere in dat von? So did you talk to Stephie? Vhen is she comink?"

I was surprised when my aunt answered the phone. "You know, Stephie, your mom is upset with you because you never call."

"Uh, I talked to her two days ago, after attempting to call her three times this week and getting no answer. Why don't you hook up the answering machine I bought her?"

"You didn't even remember to call on Nagymama's birthday."

"I'm on the phone now. Today is her birthday. What is the problem?"

"But it's late now, why didn't you call earlier?"

"What the crap are you talking about?! It's three in the afternoon! Next time, I'll call at three a.m. so I don't miss it. Let me talk to Anyu for a sec."

I could hear my mother in the background, "Who is dat?"

"It's Stephie, hold on, I'm talking to her. You know, your mother says you never come see her."

"Oh, my gosh, I was just there a few weeks ago, and you people haven't even seen my 'new place', which I've lived in for two years now, by the way. Let me talk to Anyu."

"You didn't even come see Grandma for her birthday."

"I am freaking loading presents into the trunk as I am talking to you, for the love of God and all that is holy, let me talk to my mother so I can come by for dinner."

"Oh, you're coming by? That's good."

I heard my mother gasp in the background. "Stephie is coming over? Noooo!"

My mother wrestled the phone away from my aunt. "Don't come here, Stephie! The house is a tornado from Grandma, I can't handle it!"

"Don't worry about the house, I just want to say 'Happy Birthday' and give her cake. She'll be happy. It's fine..."

"Don't come over. Today's no good. I wasn't expecting to see you until our family vacation in May. I can't handle seeing you 'til May. The house isn't clean. Here, talk to Grandma."

I heard Nagymama's familiar breathing on the phone."Hallo?"

"Boldog születésnapot, Nagmama!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "Happy Birthday, Grandma!"

"Tank you, tank you. I am very busy now, you call backs tomorrow. I talk to you den. Bye-bye."

Click. And that was it: I'm damned if I come over. I'm damned if I don't come over.

My cousins still wanted me to come by and hang out, but I was so frustrated about the whole situation that I just ended up cleaning out random boxes of string from the shed and weeding the garden. And during this weeding process, not only did I somehow hurt my tail bone, but I ended up killing all the hyacinths I was so desperately trying to save. Oh, and the Snacky Cakes®? I forgot them in the trunk, so now instead of giving Nagymama ninety-seven fresh, tasty little treats, she's going to get a really big, disgusting, melted one.

Moral of the story? Yah try to do something nice, and all you end up with is a pile of dead flowers, melted cake, and a pain in the ass.

Happy Birthday, Nagymama! I tried!