Punches in the Gut

Man, I am cranky today. I didn't wake up that way.  I've just been dealing with A-holes all day and it's starting to rub off.  That and I am having major cramps.  I'd like to say that the bitchiness associated with the female mensus is false, but it's not.  I'm a raving bitch today and it's no small coincidence that my period is involved.  I'm trying to make myself write something nice.  It's not going so well.  I think I've deleted about three paragraphs already.  There is a really pretty orchid blooming accross from my desk right now. Does that count? 

Let's think about something awesome:


Ice cold beer.  Now I'm feeling a little better.  This positive thinking shit really works.  Just looking at that picture made me feel pretty happy.  Now we can talk about something that makes me laugh.  Me at the gym.  It's pretty comical.  I tried a Zumba class.  It was ridiculous!  The room was packed and all of the women looked pretty sexy working out.  I on the other hand was a lost, chubby girl.  You want me to do what with my pelvis?!?  Not to mention the profuse sweating and the bright red face.  And lucky me, there are about a gazillion mirrors in the room.  So if there was a moment where I thought, "Hey, I think I'm getting this."  All I had to do was look up and realize, "Oh, no kit kat, you don't!".  Haha.  Someday.  I think it's important to be able to laugh at yourself, right? 

Much Like Mothers

Now that I'm well into my adulthood (by age at least), I am able to have a different relationship with my Mother.  It's pretty rad and often times hilarious.  My Mom was a pretty strict parent.  She was a parent instead of trying to be a friend when I needed her to be and I think that is the foundation for our ever growing friendship as I inch my way toward my AARP card.

I can pretty much talk with my Mom about anything and since my brother and I have a sense of humor that has been politely described as inappropriate, my Mom has been exposed to some shit.  Most of the time, she laughs it off.  There is one subject, that my Mom will not discuss and she will leave or get pissed until we change it.  S-E-X.  That's right, sex.  My Mom will not talk about it, nor will she say the word.  She spells it.  And I'm okay with that.  She is, after all, still my Mother.

This does lead to moments where I know she's going to get mad.  One time my brother and I somehow were making fun of something and an Alaskan Pipeline came up (think messed up sex acts. IE: Rusty Trombone, Dirty Sanchez, etc.  Use Google if you really need to know the details).  And my Mom overheard us and asked what it was.  My brother instantly clammed up (pussy) and I told her she didn't want to know.  Well she wouldn't let it go and so, like ripping off a band-aid, I blurted it out.  Her jaw hit the floor and she gave me a disgusted snarl.  She said, "I don't like that!"  Which, of course, sent my brother and I into hysterical fits of laughter.  I finally managed to add, "That's a good thing, Mom.  Because if you did, you'd be a pervert."  She quickly stomped inside, leaving my brother and I to our laughter fit.

All in all, my Mom is a pretty good sport.  And I don't know anyone who has as much good karma built up in the Karma Banks as her.  So, Cheers! to awesome Moms!