I am a good daughter. Shut up! I am.
I called Big Judes (My mom) yesterday. Judes is retired now. It is rumored that she spends her time caravanting (Read: gallivanting + caravanning) around Kansas and surrounding states. There have been unconfirmed reports that she has been spotted table dancing, rebel rousing and raising a ruckus all over Topeka. She is never home.
To the best of my knowledge, Big Judes has never been required to post bail. I think it is safe to say if she had been arrested for public intoxication, or some other misdemeanor offense (Judes is not a felon), it would be my rat-faced brother she would call, not me. He is her favorite after all. In addition, Rat Boy would be more likely to show up in a timely manner to pick her up. I do not blame her (much) for liking him better.
When I called yesterday, I was surprised to hear her voice.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual.
(Insert ringing phone)
Big Judes “Hello?” (She did not sound drunk. This is good).
KIDDING! Judes is a tea totaler.
Tobi “Hey, What are you doing?”
Big Judes
Tobi “Mother?”
Big Judes
Tobi “MOTHER? (Good lord, has she gone deaf in the last month?) It is ME. TOBI! Your DAUGHTER??”
Big Judes “Tobi? Oh, hi…I didn't recognize your voice. Why the hell are you shouting?”
(Tobi silently counts to five, because she IS a good daughter. Notes the unenthusiastic response, and quickly scans her internal calendar in an effort to remember the Birthday, Anniversary or National Holiday, she has failed to acknowledge…Nothing. Suddenly realizing the problem, Tobi responds accordingly).
Tobi “Don’t worry. I am not calling to borrow money. “
Big Judes “Well good, I would tell you to piss up a rope if you were. Maybe you should call your sainted Auntie Mame if you need money. I am sure, I, am not glamorous enough to assist you. Where do you come up with that stuff on that glog of yours? Why do you use the F word? Are you trying to embarrass your family? Maybe you should just poison all of us weirdoes with glittered lemon drops,”
Tobi (Shit, she does read my blog) “Mother, I have never borrowed money from you. How many times must I tell you glitter is non-toxic? I was only trying to make her barf! I called to see how you are doing. That is all. I called because I am a good daughter.”
Big Judes (snort) “Well, if you did swindle money from me, I am sure you never paid me back. I am on my way to my exer-chair class. It is less than a month until my Dollywood trip. I refuse to be fat in Dollywood.”
Tobi “ Mother you are not fat. What is an exer-chair class? Is it like yoga or something?”
Big Judes "Good God no! Last time I did yoga, my knees swelled to the size of watermelons. How could I go to Dolllywood with watermelon knees? I bet you would think that was funny, wouldn’t you? You could write about it, on that glog of yours Miss Smartypants. You don't know about Exer-chair? I thought you knew everything. You are a regular Glen Beck, according to that glog of yours.
Tobi "Mother, Glen Beck is an ass. I thought that exer-chair is for people who are in wheelchairs or too old to exercise, you are only sixty something.
Big Judes " Well, I may be only sixty-ish, but I don't jump, and don't you say anything bad about Glen Beck. Glen is a good guy. His mother must be so proud of him. For your information not everyone at exer-chair is in a wheelchair, but some of those girls do look pretty O. L. D. if you know what I'm saying. I am the cutest one in the class. .. Oh great, now I suppose you are going to talk about that on that glog of yours too? Tell the world I think I'm cute? I hope you are not expecting a post card from Dollywood. You know I tried to comment on that glog of yours. I was going to set the record straight. When I moused that comment thing, it said I needed a friend. What does it know? I need a friend? Since when do I need a friend? Tobi Renae, I am telling you right now, I better not read about this on that glog of yours, and stop using the F word you are embarrassing your family...
Judes, I swear. I will never, ever, mention this on that glog of mine.
As for my blog, well, that is another story.
Please say a prayer to Glen Beck that she does not figure out how to mouse a comment!?!
Out-T.
image:http://www.amerimark.com/images/2/258/full/25824.jpg
This is the comment which shall henceforth be called, "What About My Needs?"
My needs are thus: you need to sit next to me at work and entertain me all day while I "pretend" to work and be productive, all the while being completely aware that I am, in fact, not actually working and am, instead, being entertained by Your Brilliance and Hilarity.
with love from Pittsburgh...
Haaaa haa haaaaaaaa... this is why I don't even mention my mama anywhere on my blog (not yet!!)...
Hi Mama T! (no, I won't share the commenting magic... Tobi might ban me)
Oy vey, This woman I tell you! Does anyone one know why she thinks she needs a "friend" to comment? I have no clue what she is talking about.
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