The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘mama’s boy’

Happy Birthday to … Mom

October is a big birthday month in my family. I decided to do a little post for some of the birthday boys and girls I know.

After college graduation I moved to California. I kept in touch with my then ex-girlfriend. We had broken up because of the move, so we were in a weird ‘what is this’ state.

I’ll get to the mom element of this, I promise, it’ll just take a second.

One day  [I’m skipping the sob story version of this] things between the ex and I ended. Wah wah wah. They ended in a way I hadn’t expected. I was in the library parking lot, about to go in the library to check emails and hang out (it’s a really nice library).

After getting off the phone with my ex (who I had yelled at a bit – sorry about that …) I decided to call my sister to say, “well, [ex] and I won’t be talking any more.” I got a hold of E$, who said, “hey!” then I said, “hey” … and then, ruh roh, a bag full of emotions came pouring out of me.

I made some sort of animal being tortured noise, she guessed, “is it [ex]?” and I replied, “gotta go.”

I ended up talking to my ex one or two more times that day (ending on a way too civil weird note), and my sister. The next day I talked to my mom briefly, who happened to be out shopping with my sister the day before when I’d called.

The reason for this story is the line my mom said to me. We talked for a bit about this and that and then she said,

“We don’t have to talk about [ex] but I just want you to know if I ever see her I will murder her with an axe.”

Fantastic, right? I liked that not only was my mom looking out for me, but she was looking out for me with a very specific (and gruesome) weapon of choice.

Happy bday to my warrior mom!

Weekly Wacko (4)

I never drank until college, and my mom learned that a fun way one day.

The summer before my senior year of high school, a neighbor moved and gave us tiny bottles of liquor since they didn’t want them to break during the move. Or maybe they wanted my family to get very slightly drunk.

I had come home from school and was hanging out in the kitchen, probably staring at our food and wondering why my mom hates me (we never, not once, had an endless supply of doughnuts).

A thought came to me.

“Hey mom … can I try a shot of whiskey?”

I explained to her that I wanted to see if it’s like in the movies. If I took a shot, would I then involuntarily sort of wheeze/cough?

It’s pathetic what a mamma’s boy I am.

She agreed to it, I won’t even guess at her line of thinking during all of this.

She opened the tiny bottle, got out a shot glass (which I was surprised to see), and poured me a shot.

I grinned, picked it up, pretended to be like some sort of pro-alcoholic, and boom!, took the shot.

One second.

Two seconds.

Cough/wheeze.

It worked! It was just like I’d pictured, except for just about everything, starting with the fact that my Mother poured the shot.

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