My Mother Opposes Everything

I moved out on my own when I was 18, and my mom needed a hobby.  How about jigsaw puzzles or learning a foreign language?  Nope.  My mom had a different idea on how to spend her free time.   

On a sunny, unremarkable day in 1986, I received a phone call from a friend, “I just saw your mom on the news!” he exclaimed. 

*Actual picture of my mother's waiving her pimp-slapping hand *

I'm pretty smart, so I immediately recognized that this was not a good sign. Did she finally take revenge on the neighbors that let their dogs crap 478 pounds of excrement in their front yard for the last 15 years by slapping them with her 3 pound, tennis ball sized Avon cocktail ring?

“Why was she on the news?” I asked, fully expecting a story of carnage complete with the ranting of a crazed middle aged homemaker.

He replied, “Apparently she’s leading a rally opposing 2 Live Crew.”

That’s ridiculous.  She doesn’t even know who 2 Live Crew is. 

For my own entertainment and curiosity, I went to the casa-de-chaos to get to the bottom of this mystery. A direct approach was necessary...

ME:  Heard you were on the news.

MOM:  Yes, I’m opposing 2 Live Crew.

ME:  Do you even know who 2 Live Crew is?

MOM:  They are a bunch of horrible, horrible men that can’t even sing – they “rap” about killing their mothers and teachers and girlfriends.    And puppies.    And nuns.

ME:  Can you tell me the name of one of their songs?

MOM:  (long pause) No.  But they’re all horrible.

ME:  If the lead singer walked through the door right now, would you recognize him?

MOM:  Yes, because he would look like a horrible hoodlum criminal.

Ok, good.  That was a start. 

*As you can see, 2 Live Crew is clearly upset at my mother's opposition to them.*

I thought this new opposing-business may have been an anomaly – a momentary snapshot in time.  But alas, this was only the beginning.  My mom discovered her *love* of opposing.  She turned opposing into an art-form.  There was no stopping her… This marked the beginning of my mother opposing strange random things.  

On my following visit,  I couldn’t help but notice bright yellow garbage bags sitting out front by the road.  They had the word PORN written on them as pictured:

Wow, this was new.

ME: What’s up with the PORN garbage bags out front?

MOM:  I oppose pornography.

ME:  Wow, I’m sure the garbage-collectors will appreciate your enthusiasm.

MOM:  I’m letting everyone who drives down the street know that I oppose pornography.

ME:  I think I saw the neighbor going through your trash.  Maybe he thinks you’re throwing away all your porn.

This slip-up didn’t deter my mom from continuing her craft of opposition.  She would get better, she would be the best opposer ever….

A few months later, a new opposition appeared out of nowhere.  On the inside of the lid of rusty mailbox that is mounted by the front door, my mom placed a bumper sticker that said

“I oppose the liberal media.” 

 Maybe it says to not believe the liberal media.  Whatever.  Either way, she opposed it.  The only person who sees that bumper sticker is the mailman who lifts the lid to put in the mail.  They’ve had the same mailman for 30 years.

I’ve now compiled a list of various things my mother has opposed:

• Public Urination
• Returning Christmas presents
• Technology
• Yoga
• Figment (the purple dragon from EPCOT)
• Hemorrhoids
• Low Flush toilets (she blames Al Gore for inventing them)
• Fun
• The movie Grease
• Pedicures
• Satan
• Matt Lauer and Katie Couric

 (This really isn’t a comprehensive list.) 

Her most-recent opposition is the INTERNET.  She said that she wanted to take an axe and chop-up every computer in the whole world.  THE.  WHOLE.  WORLD. 

(She’s still working on her opposition skills…..)

Feeling Conflicted About The Grinch

Its that time of year again – where everyone is full of Christmas cheer and holiday spirit.. and every single Christmas movie ever made is on TV and I feel strangely compelled to watch them all.  This won’t be a long blog, but I’m going to tell you people right now that I am conflicted about the Grinch That Stole Christmas.  I know why the Grinch is pissed off and I don’t blame him for hating those crazy Who-holes.  Don’t worry, I’m not going to come to your house and steal your shit, so don’t go all crazy.

I’m keepin’ it real.  Little Cindy Lou Who is annoying.  And so are her parents.  And so are all the effing happy little Who-holes that live in Who- ville.   What is going on there??  It’s like they are all peeing rainbows and shooting gold nuggets out of their cornholios.  I find it unrealistic that those Who-lios are that who-happy.

And does Cindy Lou Who have NO common sense?  If some green dude came to my house in the middle of the night – who looked like he ate a SATANIC Keebler Elf…  I sure as hell wouldn’t be all lovey-dovey with him.  Cindy Lou Who should have picked up her happy-frickn-phone and dialed 911.  That’s what a reasonable Who-viller would have done.  (that kind of rhymes.  Read it again in your Dr. Seuss voice.)

*Hello evil-looking-satanic stranger. I would like to be your friend.*

The Grinch just wanted some peace and quiet.  He was sick of all their singing.  Do you want to hear people singing ALL THE TIME when you’re trying to make strange inventions in your dark cave?  NO.  No one does.

 *Note: The Grinch continously uses a toothpick which indicates good oral hygene*

And, I can tell you right now that if I woke up on Christmas morning and all my crap was gone, and I ran outside… and all my neighbors realized that all their crap was gone too… I BET you that we would not be holding hands in a BIG circle singing :

"Fah who for-aze! Fah who for-aze! Dah who dor-aze! Dah who dor-aze!"

What does that even mean?!?

When I was a kid and I was watching the Grinch movie, I remember thinking… WHAT THE CRAP?  Why doesn’t Santa Claus come down and open a can of  Santa-style-WHOOP-ASS on the Grinch.  Santa was all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-loving.  If Santa was too busy, he could have sent about 10 angry elves.  Ten angry elves could EASILY whoop the Grinch.  Especially if it was a surprise attack.

*a collage of Christmas helpers that could potentially kick some Grinch-ass. Especially top tow, 4th over from the left.  Not sure that's really even a Christmas character.  Maybe Santa brings him along when he's delivering to the hood.*

Finally, why did the Grinch steal JUST Christmas?  Why not Kwanzaa? Kwanzaa is supposedly near the same time.  Does NO ONE in Who-ville celebrate Kwanzaa?

Who-ville is very confusing.  This is where I feel compelled to interject that a few Christmases ago, my mother threw all my sister’s Christmas presents in the front yard and screamed:

“GO TO HELL!” 

It’s like our own little Who-ville. 

*Now, if the Grinch stole the cookies, we'd have ourselves a problem. ..

No one steals mamma's cookies*

This Blog Is Sponsored By The Letter “K”

A few years back my mom decided (for no apparent reason) she wanted to divide up all her worldly belongings while she was still alive.  She wasn’t going to give us anything right away, but at least we would all know who’s getting what.  My mom’s reasoning sounded logical to the untrained person– “I don’t want you to fight over my stuff after I’m dead.”

*Actual picture of me holding my sister... right before I squeezed the life out of her and beat her with the snorkel behind us  (not really) *

So, we were going to meet with a lawyer to draw up a will, right?  NOPE.  My mom had a MUCH better idea than any legal type of document.  WE DIDN’T NEED NO STINKIN’ LAWYERS..

*not actual lawyers*

She pulled out two black sharpie markers and handed one to me and to my sister and instructed us to put a “K” underneath the things that I wanted, and my sister would mark her things with a “T”.   Yes indeed, this was MUCH better than having a last will and testament.  Silly lawyers.

However, I immediately recognized flaws in my mother’s system.

Suddenly and without warning, it was like a crazy Japanese game show exploded in my mom’s living room. 

 My sister morphed into a crazed-flesh-eating-monster … scratching “T”s on all the good stuff.  Momentarily dazed and confused, I erratically pushed through the maze of mom’s stuff... shoving small children and old ladies out of my way…  I thought I saw something valuable in my peripheral vision… I lunged towards the china cabinet... grabbed the alleged valuable artifact.. turned it upside down and was just about to mark it with a BIG FAT K… and damn if there wasn’t a T already there.  There were T’s everywhere.  Panic set in.

*actual picture of my sister *

Flustered, I grabbed a worthless piece of crap to make my mark, and much to my amazement, there was already a K.  WHAT?  I didn’t mark this… That’s when I realized that my sister was marking the ALL THE CRAP STUFF with a K… just to make sure that she wouldn’t be stuck with it one day.

*examples of crap that I did not want*

*side note: don't email me to tell me that these things are valuable*

I needed a life-line to win.  Could I phone a friend or use my street shout-out?   There was no time. 

*not actual picture of me*

All the good stuff was COVERED with T’s.   There was confusion, mayhem, TOTAL ANARCHY… and that’s when I realized….  My mom’s ultimate plan was to see us fight over her stuff while she was ALIVE.   HA! We had been outsmarted by the lady that doesn’t even have an email address.  HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

Good news is that we think that most of the stuff in my mom’s house came from SteinMart or Target.  So, neither of us really won the lottery that day.  Although, we did get some good excersize.  And everytime I go to my mom’s house, I like to randomly pick up one of the chachkies and look underneath just to see what’s there.

I have also figured out how to make a “T” look like a “K”.

My Mom Loves Pamphlets

My mom loves pamphlets.  Colorful-shiny-FUN-SUCKING pamphlets.  She carries various pamphlets in her purse and can whip them out quicker than Paula Deen’s chicken pot pie out of an oven.

*examples of pamplets*

SIDE NOTE:  I am not sure that the way to heaven is on a rusty playground swing

FOR EXAMPLE:  If you were at an Italian restaurant and you can’t decide between the spaghetti with meatballs OR with clam sauce… *WHAM*  She could extract a pamphlet from her oversized-Baptist-purse that would tell you something bad about clams.  Or meatballs.  It all depends.  It’s like having an iPhone app...but a crunched-up, colorful app. 

When I was in college, I had a boyfriend (who shall remain unnamed) coming to stay with my family for the weekend.  I don’t remember the details of why this was happening, so I can only assume that I hated him and wanted him to be miserable. We spent the day my family doing various non-sexual activities, and then it was time for nighty-night. 

Of course, we had to stay in separate bedrooms with no sneaky-peaky, hanky-panky. 

He went to the guest room, pulled down the covers, and there it was: The dreaded pamphlet...

The title was:
SEX IS NOT LOVE

Thanks mom.  That was awesome.

For those who know my family… being around them makes you NOT want to have sex.  Ever.   Essentially, that pamphlet was not necessary. 

*replica of pamplet*

I was a 20-year old girl trying to have a boyfriend because of my Baptist requirement was to get married ASAP to someone that could fully support me so I could procreate and stay at home and do all the laundry and grocery shopping and cooking and cleaning, and I had a tight time-frame. 

"I can't wait for my husband to get home so I can have LOTS of sex"

Leaving pamphlets under the covers for my boyfriend was NOT HELPING…WHY WOULD SHE SABBATOGE her own plan to marry me off?? 

Whatever.  The pamphlet DID had some useful suggestions; however, I chose to ignore almost all of them.

At this time, I would like to take a second to give a shout-out to my SECOND-PLACE favorite pamphlet... and the award goes to:

CHOOSE A DATE THAT WOULD MAKE A GOOD MATE

My Mom's probably reading this right now thinking:

“HA!  You may have been annoyed at my feeble attempt to keep you on the straight and narrow; however you REMEMBERED the names of the pamphlets.”     

Well, of course I remember.  I think you framed them and hung them on my wall.  Or, I could be imagining that. 

*This pamphlet covered everything that I should never  do, including giving cigarettes to a cat*

Either way, I remember being annoyed.  In fact, it annoyed me so bad that it made me WANT to have LOTS of SEX with someone that I didn’t love and that would make an awful mate.  HA!  I showed you!  

Then, I wrote my own damn pamphlet:

  DIVORCE IS AN AWESOME ALTERNATIVE TO MURDER