My shiny, clean, smoke free brain still does no better at censoring my big fat mouth. Sure, sometimes it’s funny. But sometimes I even offend myself. And I’m the one that’s said the horrifying shit!
At the grocery store a couple of days ago while in the line to pay, a handsome older gentleman leaned over to my son and asked, “Where’s your ice cream? There’s a really good kind back in that aisle.”
The unfiltered crap trap that is my mouth said “SHHHT! Shut up!” I then covered my son’s ears and said “No talking to strangers! No talking to strangers!” I also looked at the sweet old-timer and said “Damn you.” He (thank you sweet jesus!) laughed and told me about mango tango hip widener flavor and I nicely chatted about how we can’t have any more fucking ice cream in the house because mommy’s having midnight snacks of it and getting under arm boob fat. We parted as friends and promised to call. He may have been a pedophile but I think he was just a grandpa type. I probably shouldn’t have shown him my pit love handles, but anyway.
My mother likes to talk to people about, oh, anything, and on the weekend she decided it was time to buy an RV. She phoned the number and left the lady’s voicemail a 35 minute message chronicling the development of our lovely little family from the time we arrived on this continent and how we now, 150 years later, are in the market to spend some luxurious time in the woods battling bears and mosquitos. Said used RV seller must be a wee desperate as she returned the call not once, but four times. During which time, mom (Of course!) found one she liked better and realized she didn’t even want to see the first one.
“What do I do? What do I say? She’s gonna call back! She’ll probably be tracing the call and pulling it into the yard in about five minutes!”
Let me handle this.
“Hello? Yes, I’m sorry, that was my aged demented mother who makes it a habit to try to coerce people into selling her big ticket items when she really has no money whatsoever, she’s actually been arrested for it twice already and the only way the judge would let her out was if she was heavily medicated, lived with me and stayed 300 yards away from any communication devices, including computers, because you know what? The old bitch actually figured out how to use the internet, and so we have had to lock out all websites that peddle any wares for sale, cause that’s just like porn to the old dear, and also all online christian shows because I can’t stand her arguing with ‘God’ at the top of her lungs and getting pissed that she’s getting no reply. Sorry for the trouble. We’ve given her her shot and poked her back into her chair with a really long stick because she still has her own teeth, and the stick is the safest way to move her. Again sorry for the trouble. Ooops, I have to go! The dog’s wandered too close and mom’s now trying to clean its butt and growling a little. MOM, PUT THE GODDAMN DOG DOWN! YOU ARE NOT A DOG, FOR CHRISSAKE!!!”
I wish. I offered to do it but mom said no. I think she wanted to a have another conversation. But mother, if you are reading this, she better not call again or I will tell her the above.
My apologies. I just had to rub lotion on my hubby as he is setting up the pool and has a sunburn on his back that is going to be torturous by this eve. As I did so, I berated him for getting burned and finished up with “Go ahead! Get skin cancer! See if I care!” See what I mean about the mouth?
Somehow my husband has realized that I don’t mean half of what I say. Which is mostly why we are still married. It took him about a year to figure out that in my family threats of extreme physical violence are our way of showing our love for one another.
“What’s for supper?” “My boot up your ass is what’s for supper!” (Huh?)
“Come give me a hand please, before I rip your arm out of its socket and beat you with the bloody stump.” (Okay, mom.)
And my personal favorite, the ongoing threats to my fathers testicles.
“I am going to take your fathers balls off and shove them down his throat until he chokes on them!”
“You’d better sleep with one eye open, because I know where you keep your balls!” (Again, huh?)
And once in a blue moon, the exasperated sigh while she is cooking and holding a knife and she will tell him quietly “I could do it, you know.”( That old man can move, let me tell you!)
I suppose after reading this that I do come by it honestly. But jesusmurphy, at times I would really like my lips sewn shut. And today at my son’s school one of his mates asked me if it was true that I ‘ripped his arm off and beat him with it when he didn’t go to bed on time?'( Obviously, my kid’s got a damn big mouth. On the plus side, I may have just saved myself the trouble of sleepovers.)
The mouth overrode the brain again and I told the little kid “Yes. It’s true. He was born with eight arms and is now down to two so it’s all worked out for the best. Did you want to come for a play date?” His eyes got huge and he shook his head really quick and took off.
It’s okay. I didn’t like that kid anyway.