I'm Registering at Whole Foods

So, I warned you guys that Mams was in town, so now y'all are expecting some hilarious posts full of Mamsisms...

Today ain't that day.

But she is involved...

On Monday, Mams decided she wanted to go to our favorite little Mexican restaurant. Never needing my arm twisted for fat, salt and beer (the three most important food groups), I happily abliged. (Please note that the information inside the parenthesis is foreshadowing...) Since the kids were all in school for only ONE MORE DAY until trackout, we were able to talk Sheshe into coming along. As always, we had a ton of chips, I may have licked the cheese dip bowl clean, mams and I each had a beer and I managed to polish off a burrito the size of my head. It was glorious.

As we were paying, the owner, who knows us well (but not THAT well - foreshadowing again), grabbed my wrist and said, "Can I ask jew a personal question?" While it was unexpected, I am a very open person and knowing she is from South America, I know she is very upfront with her conversations so I said sure. Smiling like a cheshire cat she said, "Are jew pregnant?"

*blink*

{Holding back the desire to scream ROACH and point to the corner or just pop her in the mouth.}

All I could think was, "I really wish I was right now so I wouldn't have to hate you for this" but all I could squeak out was a tiny "no" as I fought back the unexpected tears.

Expecting to see a look of mortification, but only finding mild surprise was a bit disheartening. But the real crusher was when she reached over, patted my 'hello-I've-had-two-children' tummy and said, "I've just never seen jew wif a pooch dis big before."

Yes. She. Did.

I turned to Sheshe in support, but all she could manage was a small whimper as she chewed off her bottom lip. I turned to Mams who was snickering. I finally gave up, shrugged my shoulders and admitted that I had gained FIVE POUNDS recently, but THANKYOUVERYMUCHFORPOINTINGITOUT.

Now, one would assume that the horror would end here. But.No. She proceeded to tell me her personal diet techniques and then lift her shirt to show me her 'I've-had-five-kids-and-three-mules-living-in-here' tummy. Yes.She.Did.

I believe this was the moment Sheshe sprinted for the door and I shuffled out behind her. (Cause you know, us pregnant women can't sprint so good. Not to mention, I was dragging my pride behind me.)Mams chose to stay behind and tell the woman her own horror stories of her saggy boobs and large rear end.

The entire drive home was Mams telling me that she too had wondered if I was pregnant while Sheshe hid her tears of laughter behind her oversized Jackie-O sunglasses.

It was a glorious day.

Short on Time but Not on Laughs...

Let me just start out by warning you, Mams is back.

And she is FULL. OF. IT. this time....

Just to give you an example, she was sitting with Dorkfish last night reminiscing when he interrupted her. "Yes, Mams, I know what you mean about how some people are just likable. A lot of people like me. I am a likable guy," he said smugly. Mams, without even pausing to ponder this statement said, "Well, Dorkfish, you sure keep that hidden well."

I love her.

She is and always has been one of those people who can't remember a punch line to save their life, but is never short on the snark. Fortunately, Deuce has inherited her quick wittiness. As exhibited by our shopping trip yesterday.

We were upstairs in a department store and mams was headed for the elevator. The direction she was going was only taking her to a glass railing for the second floor. Deuce and I tried to tell her it was the wrong direction, but at 86 you honestly don't give a damn about other people's opinions. (I am learning this quickly.) Deuce asks me, "Where does Mams think she's going?!" I explained that Mams has her own way of doing things and she would find the elevator eventually. "Let's just hope she finds it before she hits the glass railing, though," I added with a smartass tone. Picking up on my snark immediately, Deuce yells across the store to Mams, "DON'T JUMP MAMS! YOU'VE ONLY GOT ANOTHER THREE OR FOUR MORE GOOD YEARS LEFT!!!"

That's when I peed my pants.

Why You Should NEVER Text Me During A Meeting...

One of my girlfriends and her husband are both out of town on business. In a moment of desperation, she asked me to take care of her kids this evening until her flight gets in at midnight.

Obviously she does not read my blog.

Or anything I put on facebook...

ANYWAY, so we had been joking about how I would have to clean the house for her kids since her daughter seems to prefer a neat and tidy house. (I have boys. We don't do neat and tidy.) So I sent my friend a text:

"Getting the house cleaned for your daughter...*snicker* ;)"

She writes back, "I am in the longest marathon meeting."

Ignoring the cue that she probably doesn't want to continue the conversation, I said, "I know what you mean. The dogs and I had a serious discussion this morning over coffee. It was going well until Flash licked his ass, signaling the meeting was adjourned."

Oddly enough, she hasn't written back.....

Maybe this is why I don't have a job.