Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Oh, You Don't Know the Shape I'm In

I'm home sick today which means I'm curled into a ball on my sofa, unable to stop the torrent of instant messages that my mother keeps sending me. Things like this keep popping up on my screen:

J-Money's Mom (9:56:22 AM): I just got an email from Jodi. She said her sister is going to have to put her dog to sleep and that Jodi's dog has a mass on her lung. Debbie had to put her dog to sleep yesterday so did my manicurist. Robin may have to put hers to sleep as well.

How the hell do you respond to that?

J-Money(9:56:50 AM): You have a manicurist?

When Mom's online, there is nothing more riveting and/or terrifying than seeing "Your buddy is typing" at the top of the window. I'm either going to hear that she just put a roast in the CrockPot or that a guy I went to high school with was crushed by a tractor.

Other less traumatic things I learned this morning in one ten minute flurry of messages:

--My dad cut an article out of the paper. She thinks he's going to send it to me but she can't remember what it is.
--She is doing laundry but is low on detergent.
--It is currently snowing.
--Have I ever called a business where they answered the phone "Yo?" This happened to her yesterday. It was either Best Buy or the dry cleaners. Just to be safe, she's not calling either one again.
--Hang on. She's going to find the newspaper clipping.
--Her friend Barbara is already cheating on Atkins.
--The article is about a comedy club.
--Victoria's Secret mistakenly sent a sweater to my mother that actually belongs to a woman named Diane in Montreal. Since it's my size, Mom is going to mail it to me, unless the pair of boots also listed on the packing slip (which are also my size) are delivered and then I'll get the boots and my sister Runtie will get the sweater.

[Note: My mother doesn't often steal from Canadians. She ordered a coat from Victoria's Secret and had several issues with the order, including the fact that not once but twice an empty box was delivered to the house. Both times there was a hanger in the package...but no coat. Mom eventually got into a shouting match with several customer service representatives and came to the conclusion that Victoria's Secret is that she's mentally retarded. Today the coat finally appeared along with Diane's sweater.

I don't think Victoria's Secret knows what to do if a customer orders any item of clothing that doesn't hook to a garter belt, come with removable push-up pads, or has been worn by a character in a Lifetime movie about adultery. In fact, I'm not even sure they carry real clothes. The Canadian's sweater probably came from Burlington Coat Factory.]

--The sweater is blue.
--Springtime Fresh Tide does not smell like any springtime she's ever experienced. It smells like detergent.

Updates periodically, including any other notes I get from Mom.

Shit, it's tomorrow's Montel that talks about women being impregnated by mischevious spirits (which I think is code for Kevin Federline) and some lady named Belda (Belda?) who's afraid of statues. Hmm. I may hold off on the Zycam.

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