hangers are for abortions, not beatings
conversations with my place of origin (aka my mother) often go a little something like this:
me: (i pick up after the 3rd call before 9am assuming something horrific had to have taken place in order for her to disturb my slumber at such an ungodly hour) heeey mom.
ma: hiii! why arent you up? are you sick? its probably an infection from a tattoo, you know, i read an article that said parasites can get in your bloodstream and eat your organs and you get it from tattoos exclusively. did you know that?
me: then that is the LAST time i get inked with a rusty needle and a sharpie by a tweeker in a gutted out factory building.
ma
unamused) whitney...sigh...
i could go on but it usually goes on like this for a few more minutes about various topics. including but not limited to, stories about the crazy swede,.. her 109 yr old friend with macular degeneration, my stepdads latest not-paying-attention-while-at-the-wheel terror-filled car rides, and the bowel movement schedules of all her friends at the neighborhood pool.
i can appreciate a zest for life every once in a while, but bring that sunshine shit around me at 9am and i can get downright nasty. even if it is the woman who went through that disgusting process we call giving birth to me.
..
now, i never got beat with a hanger, but this picture is priceless.
ps. i love the smell of divorce papers in the morning
conversations with my place of origin (aka my mother) often go a little something like this:
me: (i pick up after the 3rd call before 9am assuming something horrific had to have taken place in order for her to disturb my slumber at such an ungodly hour) heeey mom.
ma: hiii! why arent you up? are you sick? its probably an infection from a tattoo, you know, i read an article that said parasites can get in your bloodstream and eat your organs and you get it from tattoos exclusively. did you know that?
me: then that is the LAST time i get inked with a rusty needle and a sharpie by a tweeker in a gutted out factory building.
ma
unamused) whitney...sigh...
i could go on but it usually goes on like this for a few more minutes about various topics. including but not limited to, stories about the crazy swede,.. her 109 yr old friend with macular degeneration, my stepdads latest not-paying-attention-while-at-the-wheel terror-filled car rides, and the bowel movement schedules of all her friends at the neighborhood pool.
i can appreciate a zest for life every once in a while, but bring that sunshine shit around me at 9am and i can get downright nasty. even if it is the woman who went through that disgusting process we call giving birth to me.
..
now, i never got beat with a hanger, but this picture is priceless.
ps. i love the smell of divorce papers in the morning