Why I’m Definitely Going To “Burn In Hell” – For All Of Eternity.

Something awful happened the other day. And I’m not very proud of myself. I am hoping that confessing my terrible sins to you, my dear readers, will help to absolve me. And if that doesn’t work, I guess, I’m just going to have to download this particular application to my iPhone.

Do you know what drives me completely insane? Do you know what pushes every single one of my buttons – at the same time? Do you know what makes me so angry; I’m willing to set myself on fire, just to make it stop?

Unsolicited. Advice.

Delivered daily, by the truckload.

Before I go any further I need to preface this blog post.

Let me start by saying that I absolutely LOVE my grandfather, Poppa Sye. He is the sweetest, nicest, kindest man. He’s the first one to help a stranger in need. He is a true sport with a great sense of humor. He’s always willing to lend a helping hand. He is a gentleman in every essence of the word. And, he spends 99% of his day consumed with reading articles from outdated Medical Journals, in search of obscure cures, for various aliments.

That being said, some of you already know about my ‘Annoying Medical Conditions’. And not too long ago, my grandfather took it upon himself to: read, print, photocopy, and share every piece of information he’s ever discovered regarding my Annoying Medical Conditions.

And I used to think it was very sweet.

And, I used to find some of his methods of delivering such information very entertaining.

And it was.

Like for instance:

Once, he went to our local pharmacy and discovered a Benefits Program that helps people save money on prescriptions. However, that program is specifically designed for people over the age of 55. Nevertheless he proceeded to give me 15 different forms to fill out, because even though I’m clearly NOT eligible, I should try to apply anyway.

Another time he suggested I call the AARP 800 hotline, via the sticky note he left on my bedroom door. Yet another program, only eligible for people over the age of 60.

My loving grandfather also launches what I like to call ‘Blitz Attacks’. That’s where I’ll find a barrage of pamphlets, packets, magazines, photocopied paperwork, shoved underneath my bedroom door, or put on my dinner plate. He’s like a walking spammer, pumping out notices, and erroneous information.

Usually, I have to sneak those stacks of paper and thousands of sticky notes, outside of my house. I try to bring them to a safer location for disposal. Because, if I attempt to throw away this useless information – Poppa Sye inevitably finds it in the garbage, feels offended, hits me with the stink eye, and then he scowls at me for weeks.

Now, please don’t get me wrong. I know that my grandfather means well. I know that he’s only looking out for my best interests. And, I know that he’s just trying to help. I am positive with ever fiber of my soul that he is only trying to find ways to ‘Cure Me’ even when he suggests all things ‘Holistic’ and ‘Herbal’ – most of which I am highly allergic to.

I am well aware of the fact that I should just be grateful I even have a grandfather, let alone such a caring and concerned grandfather. I also know that he likes to feel important, and needed, or at best, useful – in some way shape or form.

Which is precisely WHY I feel like the biggest SHITHEAD, ungrateful, spoiled, little, bitch. EVER.

I was already at the end of my rope over here. Because, let’s face it. There’s only so much one person can do to placate another.

I’ve tried nodding my head complete with a fake smile simply to appease my grandfather.

I’ve tried telling him, “No, thank you”, in the politest ways possible.

And, I have graciously accepted a minimum of 16,978,532,569,787,413,356,498,752.9 articles, just last week.

I feel absolutely terrible for thinking (and feeling) that my grandfather’s steadfast efforts are nothing but a waste of my time. I feel even worse for being pissed off about the whole scenario. I feel incredibly guilty for being ‘mad at him’ when I know – I KNOW – he is only trying to look out for me.

But seriously people.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

So…..

I snapped.

I hauled off and I knocked him out!

KIDDING!

KIDDING!

I AM KIDDING PEOPLE!

Of course, I did NOT punch my grandfather in the face.

Unfortunately, he fell.

Again.

Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as this time.

But now, I get to be the one to find, photocopy, and deliver mountains of information on balance, slip and falls, and how to treat subsequent injuries.

And this is going to be fun!

* So tell me people. How do YOU handle receiving ‘Unsolicited Advice’? Because I am fresh out of ideas!