Oh, Ma!

Just when I think Mom couldn't be more... well, Mom-ish, she strikes again. It's bad enough that it's a given that during any phone conversation, irregardless of the topic, I am always subjected to questions about my pesonal life. Mom tries to "dance" around the topic using phrases such as "man friend" and "special friend." It feels like some bizarro douche commercial gone wrong.

Anywho, this time was different.

As we were nearing the end of this 45 minutes of Hell, I thought God was smiling down upon me-- I escaped without one single question about my personal life!?! Praise the Lord. And then, with His wicked sense of humor, God flipped me the bird.

====================

Mom: Can I have a copy of your monthly company newsletter?

Rita: Sure. Why?

Mom: Because you said Albert's (my beloved dog) picture was featured and he won the Best Dog with Toy contest.

Rita: Okay... if it's that important to you.

Mom: Well, Albert's the closest thing I'll have to a grandchild. I have to be proud of something.

====================

Ouch. I didn't see that one coming! Thanks for that kick to the ovaries. It's a wonder I don't need therapy. That's what booze is for.

xoxo,
RiRi

Oh, Ma!

I love my mother. Really, I do. Every year on my birthday, she reminds me how childbirth gave her hemorrhoids. She also shares the cherished memory of looking at me for the first time: "I cried! You were so ugly with black hair sticking up everywhere. I cried to God asking him why he gave me such an ugly baby."

Paging Hallmark, anyone?

Despite mom's lack of tact (which I inherited) and her repulsion-convulsion, mom rocks. She's like the Tazmainian Devil-- a small, yet powerful whirling dirvish of sass. Grown men fear her, and rightfully so.

But like any mother, she has the tendency to push those hot buttons. Sometimes, she'll just blurt out her displeasure. Sometimes, she'll suck in her unsuspecting child before blindsiding you with her displeasure. Either way, moms always have a way of making you feel like you're 12-years-old.

And, I mean this with all due respect. My mom is the consumate orginal mind f**king drama queen. She can get over on you like a fat kid on dollar dog night. But I digress.

Mom is fixated (today) on me finding a Mister Me. Subtlety is NOT in her vocabulary.

======================

INT. DOCTOR'S OFFICE (ESTAB) AFTERNOON

Rita and Mom are at the receptionist's station. Rita steadys Mom, who is a tiny, skinny thing. She looks frail and weak.... until she opens her mouth.

MOM

(to receptionist)

I was curious. Is Doctor Barker single?

Rita cringes, knows exactly where this is going.

RECEPTIONIST

No, Mrs. Riter. He's married.

MOM

That's too bad. He's so good-looking. I thought he'd be perfect for my little Rita.

Receptionist gives Rita that "I-feel-your-pain-mom-is-embarassing-you-look." Rita, who never blushes, starts to feel warm. Prays to God Mom would hurry up and pay her damned bill.

I love babies. Always have. All I want is a grandchild. Just one. But who knows. I might die before it happens.

Rita is mortified. Mom is now going public with her nagging. She turns to Rita.

MOM

I just want you to find a good man with a good job. He doesn't have to be rich. He just needs to have a good job and be nice to you. That's all. Then I can die.

Rita hustles mom out of the doctor's office, contemplates downing a bottle of rum when she gets home.

===================

Talk about a Catch 22...

And the Oscar goes to...

xoxo,

RiRi