Oh, Pa!

Weddings. A blissful day, celebrating two people who love each each other until "death do us part." It's a day Hallmark and Kleenex love, but others despise.

Like my Dad.

Dad has always been sarcastic, brutally honest and intimidating to most breathing things. Now add "extra deep-fried temper." (and he's medicated!) This is a lethal, yet entertaining combination.

He's been fretting... check that... slow-burning over my cousin's wedding for several reasons.
#1 Why on Labor Day weekend?
#2 Why on a Sunday? And I quote: "Who fucking does that bullshit?"
#3 Why is the "stupid-ass reception an hour away from the wedding, which even isn't in a church, there's no place to park, and it's in that big city on the Northcoast where scumbags live.....?"

It's my little cousin. And honestly, we'll probably never see him again unless someone croaks. He already knows the arrangements are a little... challenging... cuz a few month ago I asked: "Handed your balls over already? Might as well adjust as soon as possible."

So, Dad calls yesterday out of the blue with a proposition.

DAD: What do you think about renting a limo?
Rita: For what?
DAD: This goddamned fucking wedding I don't want to go to. I'm only going because your Mother and you are. (as if he has no free will.)
Rita: Dad-- that would be really expensive.
DAD: That's not what I asked!
Rita: (almost tinkling in her pants) Sure. Whatever you want.
DAD: Well, I'm not driving my car. It's paid off. I don't know where to park. What if someone hits my car? And, we're taking an armed guard with us.
Rita: What?!?! We're not going into Afghanistan or South Central. This isn't Boyz in The Hood. Please.
DAD: There's nothing but scumbags running around that city.
Rita: Seriously? An armed guard.
DAD: I ain't fucking around.

This from the man that was shot twice in Vietnam. This from the man who stabbed one of his co-workers with a fork in the hand because he made a smart-ass comment about me when I was in high school... Dad may be older, but he's still very large and very much in charge. (As Dad would say: "I may be too old to kick your ass, but you better believe I'm still thinking about it.")

Dad changed his mind about the limo. That's a whole different story.... So, Dad will drive us all to the blessed event... of course, now that he drives completely at the speed limit, it may take a while to get there. I am praying that the reception is open bar. Dad bitchin'; Mom trying to find me a man.... yeah... to quote a friend of mine: "that sucks ass balls." I don't really know what those are or what that means, but I'm presuming it will.

Be kind. Say a prayer.

xoxo,
RiRi

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.

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Talk about a Catch 22...

And the Oscar goes to...

xoxo,

RiRi

OMFG!

It's finally happened.

My mom has become that old lady. The old lady she said she would never become!

And I don't mean age when I toss out the word "old." I mean "old" as in mentality, actions, outlook, driving...

MOM

These people drive like idiots! Where do they have to go in such a hurry! I drive under the speed limit.

RITA

What? You used to be a lead foot. How slow do you go?

MOM

I drive one mile below the speed limit. It's because I'm looking for an address and these people behind me keep blowing their horn.

RITA

You're driving too slow.

MOM

So what! They can wait for me.

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

And there it is. Before, she couldn't wait for them. I can't tell you how many times mom would lay on the horn back-in-the-day when some hump-backed old bag driving her Caddy would drive erractically. And now? Yeah, that shoe fits...

Just a reminder that even though I'm Forever 21 in my heart, the world and people around me-- including myself-- are not. Ouch.

xoxo,

RiRi

P.S. I can't imagine not speeding! lol (that's what she said)

P.P.S. Yet mom knew what Twitter was! Worlds coliding!