The Backward Bathroom Door Incident.
How grandpa reached out from the grave to trap two women in his bathroom. That’ll teach ‘em to mess with him. A story filled with disturbing imagery, not for the faint of heart.
These are the tales of Myrna. Yes, Myrna is my mother. When Myrna does something particularly nutty, which then elicits an equally nutty response from me, I send my sister an email entitled something like “YOUR crazy mother just X” — that X can cover a shockingly wide range. These are elaborations on that theme both to document the insanity for the betterment and education of humanity and, more importantly, to minimize its lasting effects upon me. So, sit back, grab yourself a sedative and enjoy the misadventures of the Myrna. Her craziness drives me crazy, I love her nonetheless.
How grandpa reached out from the grave to trap two women in his bathroom. That’ll teach ‘em to mess with him. A story filled with disturbing imagery, not for the faint of heart.
Vacations are for relaxing, recuperating and rejuvenating. Right? Well, they also can be a duty, a forced march into dangerous territory demanded by Jesus Christ himself.
Of what possible use is a hermetically sealed statement for an insurance policy that lapsed during the Reagan administration? A question any pack rat would find absurd and Myrna is no exception.
How an unassuming stick sent Myrna on a strange adventure and brought new meaning to home security and yet another reason to always carry your mobile phone with you.
An adult woman allows herself to become the doting, loyal subject of three cats, a window into mothering gone mad.
Too much of a good thing is not a good thing when Myrna is involved — a cautionary tale on getting what you wish for, plus helpful hints on how to dispose of dozens and dozens of individually foil-wrapped snack cakes.