Taco Talk Turns into Taco Time, and back again

Taco Time!!  This phrase came out of my mom’s mouth yesterday. 

As we were sorting things for my g-sale, we drank wine and jammed to some music.  We finished the first bottle and I was just hot, but she was clearly buzzed when she asked me what we were going to eat and where I kept my cookies.  What?

I suggested we go get some Jack in the Box tacos and she blurted out, “TACO TIME!”

Quicker than a virgin male at a whore house, we were at the JiB drive through ordering tacos and egg rolls.  On the drive back, she was going on about how wonderful the tacos are and I was right there with her complimenting their soggy lettuce, crispy shell and mystery meat, when her mobile rang.  It was her husband, she answered and said, “I’m on the road, can’t chat. L and I are in the middle of taco talk.”

I am my mother’s daughter.


What the Fuck!?!

Introducing the Wearable Towel.

I was watching Golden Girls, just now, and a commercial for the Wearable Towel came on.  I guarantee my mom has seen this same commercial on HSN or QVC and has already bought herself, my sister and me a wearable towel for our trip to Florida. They come in red, white and blue.

I would write more, but I have to get ready for work…

Here, watch for yourself.

I’m eating toothpaste now. But, for good reason.

I’m going to try a new diet technique that involves toothpaste.  I usually make a deliberate effort to spit out my toothpaste when I brush.  This is because it makes me nauseous. Well, it’s taken me all these years to realize this is exactly what I need. 

Toothpaste, I love you.


From here on out, I will swallow my toothpaste.  This genius idea (remember, I’m a complete genius wasting my time on this blog and in my routine existence) spawned further contemplation on the many uses of toothpaste.  Growing up my mom used toothpaste as a household fix-it-all.  We filled in holes in the wall, she would mix it will baking soda and clean everything in the bathroom with it, and she preferred to wash her veggies in a toothpaste mixture. 

If you want more ideas on toothpaste…here’s someonelses list… http://www.wisebread.com/two-dozen-uses-for-toothpaste-aside-from-cleaning-your-teeth

Mom. Strongbow. Sassy Chicks. Strongbow. Bread. Strongbow. In the Womb. Strongbow.

What a weekend. I spent most of my precious weekend with my mom.  She had big plans for us, which included a lot of work in the garden.  The good news is that a chilly weather front came in on Friday evening and ruined her plans for gardening. The bad news was she had a Plan B, like she always does. She told me to come over whenever I wanted and we would have some chili. Easy, I can do that.  I get anxious when I go somewhere and we don’t really have planned activities.  I’m okay if we sit around and watch TV, that’s an activity to me and I thought that’s what I would be doing.  Watching TV, playing with the dogs, eating chili and watching more TV.  My mom is the same way except she doesn’t think watching TV is a legitimate activity, she needs a fucking curriculum. So, my mom planned some activities for us.  First, she buttered me up (really she tricked me) with the enticement of unlimited Strongbows. We started out drinking.  So now I’m thinking I drink, I watch TV, I play with dogs, I eat chili, and watch more TV and drink.  I had two within an hour and she hadn’t finished her first, so I finished it for her.  Then as we finished up our lunch, she tells me that she has a craft project she needs my help with.

My mom usually needs my help with reaching things up high or reaching for things behind the refrigerator.  She thinks I’m tall and have incrediably long skinny arms.  I’m not tall, 5’6″, and I absolutely do not have long or skinny arms. 

But, help with a craft project…after two and half Strongbows, I was actually interested in seeing this craft.  I envisioned something robust or tall that she needed my help lifting or to staple flowers to the top. Not the case.  She had read an article in Woman’s Day or Redbook about a fun Easter craft.  We were about to make SASSY CHICKS. I won’t go into the details of making these little creatures, but I will tell you this.  They are about 1 inch tall and my mom plans to attach them to hats.  Hats, yes hats.  She plans to attach them to straw hats for herself and her dog Tigger.  Don’t worry, she knows exactly how she’s going to do this, because she’s done this before, for a Pooch Parade.





Craft time finally wrapped. Which was surprisingly quick.  Even a little drunk, warm as my mom calls it, I was able to create four sassy chicks in about 30 minutes.  Our next activity was baking bread. She has a new toaster oven, so we needed to try out some bread recipes.  We made whole wheat with raisins, sourdough with raisins, and Irish soda bread with raisins and cinnamon.  That killed another two hours, but any activity with food involved is fun.  Of course, I had two more Strongbows.  Yes, by now I’m drunk. And yes, by now I’m drunk with my mom.

As we sat down to eat our bread, two pieces of each, she says she has a program she wants to watch me me.  At first I thought it was going to be some Joel Olsteen re-runs, but no.  It was a program called, “In the Womb” and yes, it was about babies in the womb.  Because it was recorded she was able to pause, rewind, and fucking slow-mo that shit.  I don’t know if you know what happens in a womb, but it’s pretty much in slow-mo naturally.  So, watching this shit in slow-mo was more boring that my drunk self was ready to deal with.  But, in true form, to deal with this boredom I started snacking on our fresh baked bread and drinking more. Two hours later, the “In the Womb” program was over.  Here’s a clip, if you’re curious…


 I needed to “cool off” as my mom said, before I could leave so we watched some recorded “The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.”  My mom said, “He’s hilarious, even for a Scot.” 

p.s. to catch Roy of Sigfried and Roy in a skeletor mask- tune in to 20/20 this Friday.

TV Seigfried and Roy

Another e-mail from my mom

My mom sent me an e-mail titled 10 GREAT THINGS ABOUT BEING A WOMAN.  Below is the list. 

My favorite, is number 7.  A warning, this list is full of cheesy mom sayings. They love this shit.  Feel free to pas along to your mother or rewrite in your next Mother’s Day card.  (My replies are in purple.)

  1. Women stand up for their friends before they stand up for themselves. (okay.  but that doesn’t sound so great.)
  2. We’re deep and meaningful. (that’s subjective.  I think we’re meaningful, but I’m a woman.)
  3. We remember our dreams. (what?)
  4. We band together and change the world. (fair enough)
  5. We organize is kitchens, churches and schools. (why is this so great?)
  6. We know its okay to cry. (I’m scared, and crying)
  7. We can give birth to our best friends. (yikes, I laughed so hard when I read this.  I couldn’t tell my mom about it, she thought this list was so “poignant and inspiring”)
  8. We have been there, and done that, and have the t-shirts to prove it.  (holy shit, give me a break.  I can’t believe this.  I hope I don’t start liking this sort of thing when I’m over 50)
  9. We have role models every where. And we are role models for ourselves.
  10. Women and children always go first!  (the exclamation point was already there, I didn’t add it.)

I wanted to leave you with some weird/creepy mom and daughter portraits.  But, I had a hard time finding some really bad, glamour shot-esq type photos.  Most of them were really sweet and I don’t enjoy picking on sweet people. Well, maybe some other day, I’m in a pleasant mood today. I don’t even think I’ll drink when I go home tonight.  Enjoy hookers!



It’s beginning to smell a lot like Christmas

My mom sent an e-mail about family Christmas plans.  She not only sent this e-mai to my sister and me, she sent it to my step-sisters. I know what my reaction was (it included a lot of eye rolling and “what the fucks”) and I can only imagine what my step-sisters are thinking.

What’s going through my mom’s head…don’t get me wrong I like the idea of a cheap Christmas.  This is not a new concept to my family.  My mom has called them a spiritual Christmas in the past. One year she said we had to bring something homemade.  That year I knit everyone a coin purse with their initial.  Super cool gift if you ask me. Another year we were to choose a Christmas carol.  If you’re wondering if this makes for a boring Christmas, you’re right.  Enough delay. Here’s my mom’s e-mail this year.

Her e-mai is in bold and my remarks are in parentheses.

Here’s a couple of  thoughts thrown out for your feedback.  (she’s being passive aggresive.  She’s going to critisize our “feedback” and then go ahead with her plans.  Best bet, is to not give feedback and get drunk on the day of. Any “feedback” will be taken as a challenge to the spirit of Jesus and his birthday celebration.)


I know money is tight for everyone this year so I was thinking of ways to save on our presents.  What are your thoughts on a re-gifted Christmas? (my thoughts- don’t do it, the stingy hookers in my family will give me their tired shit.  It won’t be re-gifted it will be old and tired.) No one spends any money on presents. You can look to what you have on hand and see what might make a nice re-gifted present. (I would rather people make something or sing shitty carols)  The only rule is that you can’t spend any money. I’ll bet we all have stuff around that is great stuff but not something you’re using or have ever used. (She’s stressing “never used” ’cause she knows how these hookers do) It would be even better if you have something that was given to you some time back that you are sending back around to the original giver.  If you can’t think of anything, maybe you write up a gift certificate for a day of yard work or painting or planting bulbs in the flower beds with me? (Is she fucking kidding? planting bulbs in the flower bed!?!) Or a day of coffee and cookies at your house?  Or maybe a day on the lake with Mike on the kayaks?  (No one wants to do this shit…is this why its a gift?  I’m surprised she hasn’t said “A coupon promising to go to church with your mother”) Or maybe we just get together and work on a memory book together? (Who is this woman!!! a Fucking memory book.  No fucking way)  Let’s try to add some meaning without so much money.  Wrapping paper can be recycled whatever.  Even the card could be a reused card. Put your brain and your heart to work and not just the purse. (I don’t think my heart has ever worked.)


My other thought was drawing names. Eight girls and their guys and then and me and Mike there’s eight gifts would be looking to buy.  What if we put all 10 names in an imaginary hat and we draw names? We set a dollar limit – say $30 max?  (An imaginary hat?  WTF)


Put your thinking caps on. (and your feeling caps…remember our hearts are working, too) If you have any other suggestions, throw them out to the group.  Let’s have a fun and meaningful Christmas without putting a financial strain on anyone.


Love and hugs! (this is new. She must have been watching back to back Joel Olsteen this weekend. mixed in with a little Quacker Factory on QVC.  click for video–>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-MWQ60YLHE)

My reply to her was an ambiguous…Sounds good to me.  Remember, she’s going to do what she wants.  I gave my step-sisters the heads up and said to just agree now and drink later. 

BTW, I’ll probably go with the memory book option, because she’ll have to provide the pics and crap.  And, I love a good scissor and glue craft.

Loves and hugs, my little thugs.

What you say?

On a recent mother-daughter holiday, my mother had a choice phrase she would say at the appropriate moment. 

Sons of bitches, mothers of whores. 

Appropriate moments included:

  • hitting her head everytime she got into our rental, a Volkswagen Rabbitt
  • hitting her knee everytime she got into our rental
  • stepping on a shell
  • getting hot (she’d also say she was sweating like a whore in church)
  • when we got lost
  • when a business was closed
  • when me and my sis got on her nerves (which we do a lot, because we argue and bring back horrible memories of days gone by)