or else she's on drugs. I know what you're thinking -- MDK, you're way too old to be complaining about your parents! What's up with that!? No, grasshopper, you're too YOUNG to complain about parents. Mine are "turning" fifty and such. Shit is beginning to fucking go. Let's start with my mother.
First of all, she only speaks in segue. Example: 'This place I go back in New York, near the Cinnamon family -- they're the ones with that little dog, just like the one that I was gonna get, but that was when I was having my surgery, which reminds me do you have any extra tylenol?' Uh....... maybe? 'Well anyway what was I saying oh right, the dog, it's a (some dog breed) which is lots of energy and I think that's a good fit for me because I'm always doing shows on Wednesday and Friday and on Thursday I have my class -- I'm taking a class in opera theory but I've been thinking of just going into computational engineering, that program your dad was telling me about, because you can apparently make like a few thousand bucks if you just learn it and then teach it, which you heard about your grandfather being in the hospital right?' uh..... hang on, did you just say... 'Well what I was trying to get at was, this place back in New York has these same trees. Well not the same tree, but these are more desert-y and I like them. That's the thing about opening a restaurant is it'll take the shirt off your back."
That's frighteningly close to an actual conversation from earlier (yes, somewhere in there my granddad apparently had a cardiac episode, he's fine). That's the baseline of what I have to deal with at 7:30 in the morning, when she wakes me up to ask how I'm sleeping. This is what I get instead of coffee.
But now let's graduate. This afternoon I did a wal-mart run -- trying to establish with a short trip whether or not it's safe for me to drive, since I'm all post-op-ish. Come back, I'm pretty sore (and honestly just can't handle any more squawking in my goddamn ears), so I'm like 'Hey I'll lay down for a little while, you know how my TV works, do whatever." Well she takes my car and disappears....... for six fucking hours. Which was cool at first, but after a while you start scratching your head.... We connected by text after a little bit, then it dried up for a long while. When she finally came home she offered the perfectly reasonable explanation of "I lost your keys." Where? "At the second place." And........ {insert segue-chain monologue here}. Short version she couldn't find any mexicans to do her nails (I shit you not), so went back to Vietnamese, then hit a bar for live country music (she brings her own guitar and tries to crash other peoples' shows), then from there somehow meandered into a book-signing (where she picked me up a signed copy of sexy Bleach fan-fiction). She hands me the book (it literally is about sexy soul-reaper fantasies, right on the cover), then proceeds to lose -- individually and alphabetically -- every single goddamn thing she owns, one at a time, over a full hour. During which time, she hasn't closed my car doors yet from when she came home.
This was about the time I noticed that my dog has recent (dried up) wounds on his wrist and nose -- see she takes my dogs for walks, since those go more smoothly than my Hops. Hey, mom, did something happen to my dog maybe while you were walking him? "I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention."
*headdesk*
Fucking role reversal is a piece of shit. My brothers and me are mulling it over, trying to decide if she's stoned out of her mind or literally going insane.
First of all, she only speaks in segue. Example: 'This place I go back in New York, near the Cinnamon family -- they're the ones with that little dog, just like the one that I was gonna get, but that was when I was having my surgery, which reminds me do you have any extra tylenol?' Uh....... maybe? 'Well anyway what was I saying oh right, the dog, it's a (some dog breed) which is lots of energy and I think that's a good fit for me because I'm always doing shows on Wednesday and Friday and on Thursday I have my class -- I'm taking a class in opera theory but I've been thinking of just going into computational engineering, that program your dad was telling me about, because you can apparently make like a few thousand bucks if you just learn it and then teach it, which you heard about your grandfather being in the hospital right?' uh..... hang on, did you just say... 'Well what I was trying to get at was, this place back in New York has these same trees. Well not the same tree, but these are more desert-y and I like them. That's the thing about opening a restaurant is it'll take the shirt off your back."
That's frighteningly close to an actual conversation from earlier (yes, somewhere in there my granddad apparently had a cardiac episode, he's fine). That's the baseline of what I have to deal with at 7:30 in the morning, when she wakes me up to ask how I'm sleeping. This is what I get instead of coffee.
But now let's graduate. This afternoon I did a wal-mart run -- trying to establish with a short trip whether or not it's safe for me to drive, since I'm all post-op-ish. Come back, I'm pretty sore (and honestly just can't handle any more squawking in my goddamn ears), so I'm like 'Hey I'll lay down for a little while, you know how my TV works, do whatever." Well she takes my car and disappears....... for six fucking hours. Which was cool at first, but after a while you start scratching your head.... We connected by text after a little bit, then it dried up for a long while. When she finally came home she offered the perfectly reasonable explanation of "I lost your keys." Where? "At the second place." And........ {insert segue-chain monologue here}. Short version she couldn't find any mexicans to do her nails (I shit you not), so went back to Vietnamese, then hit a bar for live country music (she brings her own guitar and tries to crash other peoples' shows), then from there somehow meandered into a book-signing (where she picked me up a signed copy of sexy Bleach fan-fiction). She hands me the book (it literally is about sexy soul-reaper fantasies, right on the cover), then proceeds to lose -- individually and alphabetically -- every single goddamn thing she owns, one at a time, over a full hour. During which time, she hasn't closed my car doors yet from when she came home.
This was about the time I noticed that my dog has recent (dried up) wounds on his wrist and nose -- see she takes my dogs for walks, since those go more smoothly than my Hops. Hey, mom, did something happen to my dog maybe while you were walking him? "I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention."
*headdesk*
Fucking role reversal is a piece of shit. My brothers and me are mulling it over, trying to decide if she's stoned out of her mind or literally going insane.
