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Posts tagged “mother

Lassie Learns the Truth

thWelcome to day three of BLOGSHORTS: a ten day, ten story, 110 word writing extravaganza.

Each participating blogger chooses a pooch a day from a list of dogs, thunk-up by our fearless leader BLOGDRAMEDY, and then writes a short story featuring their dog of choice.

Each story is 110 words in length and can feature as much or as little of our canine friend as we like.

I will admit that I didn’t know who this dog was when I signed on to blog, so I was forced to look him (her) up first. Truth be told, I still don’t know what this show was all about. From what I can gather, there were a lot of children getting stuck places or falling into wells who needed rescuing. That fact prompted me to ask…just how fat are the children in this town, anyway??

Obese toddlers or not, I bring you:

LASSIE LEARNS THE TRUTH

“What are they calling me??” Lassie barked to Megan, a cute pug digging a hole alongside him.

“Lassie is a girl’s name,” Megan yapped back. “The producers want Timmy’s dog to be female. They want the audience to think she’s maternal.”

“A female?” Lassie growled, incredulous. “I’m no female and I can prove it. Look here.” Lassie curled his snout behind him to sniff at a couple of things he was sure were there.

But they weren’t. Not anymore.

Lassie collapsed into a heap on the ground. Megan nudged him with her snout and yapped, “It could be worse. You could be filming a peanut butter commercial with Ron Jeremy.”

Revisit these soon to be canine classics:

BLOGSHORTS DAY ONE: Tea Cup Cujo

BLOGSHORTS DAY TWO: Toto’s Ruby Red Booty

TAKE YOUR BLOG FOR A WALK AND THROW THESE GUYS A BONE:

Blogdramedy

1pointperspective

SteveBetz 

Joe’s Musings

Jtailele’s Blog

MC’s Whispers

Shouts from the Abyss

Lenore Diane

Fix it or Deal

RETURN TOMORROW AND JOIN US ON A TRIP TO HOGWARTS!


Somebody Shoot Me – An Ode To My Mother

A Conversation with my mother the day I told her I finished my novel.

ME: “Well Mom, it’s done. I finally finished it.”

MOM: “Finished what?”

ME: “Uh…my novel. The one I’ve been working on for the past year. Yeah, it’s done.”

MOM: “I had no idea you were writing a book! What is it about?”

ME: (sighs) “It’s a young adult novel about a teenager named Sawyer Hayden who–”

MOM: “Sawyer? Oh I don’t like that name.”

ME: ”Well it’s too late to change it now. ANYWAY…he wants a basketball scholarship so he–”

MOM: “Basketball? But you don’t play basketball! And why are you writing about boys anyway? You’re a woman who lives in New Hampshire! I know what you should do. Join a writing group and try to make friends with that woman writer there…

ME:  Please don’t say Jodi Picoult.

MOM: …the one who writes all those nice cancer books. You know who I mean.”

ME: (sigh 2x) “Her name’s Jodi Picoult, mom.”

MOM: “No, that’s not it. Well, whoever she is I hear her books are very popular.”

ME: “FINE! WHATEVER! JUST LISTEN!” (deep breath) “In my book Sawyer asks his brother River to help–”

MOM: “RIVER? Oh I don’t like that name either. Why did you pick such ugly American names? With so many nice names in our family to choose from you–”

ME: “HOW ABOUT RAPHAEL? THAT’S WHAT I NAMED THE DAD SO HOW ABOUT THAT?”

MOM: “Finally a name I like! It’s about time you remembered you’re Italian.”

ME: “Ok…but just so you know, I made the dad Spanish.”

MOM: (appalled) “NOW WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST MAKE HIM ITALIAN? HOW AM I GOING TO TELL THE FAMILY IN ITALY THAT MY DAUGHTER WROTE A BOOK ABOUT SPANIARDS AND NOT ITALIANS?!”

ME: “I’M IRISH TOO, MOM! WHY DON’T I JUST MAKE HIM IRISH LIKE MY DAD, HUH? HOW’S THAT SOUND?”

MOM: “Spanish is fine.”

ME: “CAN WE FOCUS NOW? PLEASE?!”

MOM: “Yes, yes. Continue.”

ME: (sighs, molto frustrato) “So SAWYER leaves his father and moves to Nebraska–”

MOM: Bites lip.

ME: “NOW what’s wrong?”

MOM: “Well…why does he have to live in Nebraska? It’s a land locked state.”

ME: (rubbing temples) “What does Nebraska being a land locked state have to do with anything?”

MOM: “I don’t trust the seafood in land locked states. It’s too expensive. What you’re really paying for is the truck to have it delivered. They don’t fool me.”

ME: “Fine. You know what? I’ll change it to a coastal state–”

MOM: “OOH! You should make it Hawaii! I’ve always wanted to go there. You know they filmed that show LOST in Hawaii. But then you couldn’t use the name Sawyer. Hey! Now you can change that too! I always liked that doctor Jack–”

ME: “MOM! It can’t be Hawaii because Raphael is a long haul truck driver and that’s how Sawyer gets to Nebraska to live with his grandfather so he can get a basketball scholarship.”

MOM: “Well why does he even need a scholarship? With the price of seafood nowadays the father should have no problem paying for–”

ME: “You know what? Forget it. I didn’t write a book. I made a quilt.”

MOM: “Oh don’t be so sensitive. Tell me what the grandfather’s name is. Something good I hope.”

ME: “GUS.”

MOM: (flinches, thinks and then says) “So SAYWER leaves a man named RAPHAEL to live with a man named GUS?”

ME: “Yes but mom, Gus is awesome. He’s a biker and a southern rock roadie with…bad…ass…tattoos…”

MOM: (near tears) “What happened to my dainty daughter who used to love to read books and write stories and listen to music?!”

ME: “She changed her name to Sawyer.”

 

FOR MORE MIND-NUMBING MATERNAL MASOCHISM VISIT:

CONVERSATIONS WITH MY MOTHER


Earth Day Interview With Gaia

In celebration of Earth Day I’ve decided to take a moment to sit down with Gaia, the Earth Goddess. Hello, Gaia. Thank you for sitting down with us today.

Oh it’s so good to be here, or anywhere for that matter. And thank you for celebrating Earth Day. It’s a small step towards saving my beautiful creation. So many people are so fucking oblivious to what is happening to this magnificent planet it boggles the mind, so thank you for the opportunity to shed a bit of light.

It’s been an unusually warm winter here in the United States. What do you attribute that to?

Well, I certainly had nothing to do with it despite what Zeus may have told you. He tried to tell me I was just having a primordial hot flash, but he’s almost as stupid about these things as most of the people on the planet.  You people need to get your heads out of your collective asses and get a fucking clue. Do you think that over a century of burning coal and gas while at the same time  cutting down my beautiful trees on a massive scale is having no effect on the atmosphere? If you don’t get your act together soon, the Earth is going to resemble Venus.

The world’s population is about to reach seven billion people. How has this affected Earth as you see it?

It’s making it damn hard for me to see the Earth. You know, almost all of the world’s problems can be attributed to one thing – too many people.  When birth control was invented I thought you’d at least have the good sense to use it. But noooo. And now, people are a planetary problem. At least most of you seem to congregate in the same areas so there are still a few pristine places where you can experience this beautiful planet in all its glory.

You have quite the following among the New Age Hippie crowd. Which do you prefer as worshipers; the Hippies or the Greeks?

Ahhh, the Greeks – the wine, the debauchery, the bacchanalia – I love me a good bacchanalia. But then the Hippies, and not just the new age Hippies, but the old age ones, too, are all about peace and love and sex and getting high and hugging trees and the music.  Yes, I think the music  tips the scale in their favor.

I’ve done some research and discovered that you have over twenty children. Which one is your favorite?

I think it was way more than twenty but I lost count of the little bastards long ago. I know most mothers don’t refer to their offspring as little bastards but I never married any of their fathers, so they were all technically bastards.  Now I’m not going to give you the standard mommy lie of ‘I don’t have a favorite, I love them all the same,’ because that is such a crock of shit. Of course, every mother has a favorite, it’s just that some mothers are better at hiding it than others.  I simply adored Phoebe but Aergia was a huge disappointment.

Which God was the best in the sack?

Ahhh, I had some wild times with Uranus. There was nothing that guy wouldn’t do. And I mean NOTHING. It was SO hot! But he got a little mean in his old age so I got the kids to kill him.  Pontus was so much fun, too. We would do some role playing, the pirate scenario was my favorite – always a hoot.  Zeus had a huge ego, but sadly his manly parts weren’t so big.

How does it feel to be the original MILF?

Fucking fantastic! Though I prefer GILF or Goddess I’d Like to Fuck. There is fucking power in being so fuckable. Every woman deserves to feel like this. I think that’s what all those poser Wicca chicks are trying to achieve by invoking my name and dancing naked under the full moon.

What does Earth’s future hold for mankind?

I think you have that question backwards. It’s more a case of what does mankind’s future hold for the Earth. If you stay on your current path, the Earth is doomed.  Earth is the only fucking planet you have. It is a glorious planet full of beauty and wonder. It can feed you and sustain you. All she asks in return is that you take care of her and nurture her. So get a fucking clue. Recycle, reuse, embrace sustainable farming, find viable sustainable energy,  clean up the place. Tread lightly on the Earth and every now and then hug a tree.

CLICK THE RED BUTTON FOR PAST HOLIDAY ICON INTERVIEWS!!!


UPDATE FROM LIBSTRONG’S SUPER MOM

Landon-Swank
Landon-Swank

Words can not express the sincere appreciation that I have for Landon Swank and Harmony Swank for taking time out of their busy schedules to come surprise Libby. What a pleasure it was to meet you both.

On Saturday, December 29th Libby had the most amazing experience…Make-A-Wish granted her wish to meet Master Illusionist Landon Swank and his beautiful wif…e Harmony!

For just about two hours my baby girl focused on her new friends and the fun she was having learning some tricks and showing her talents too…fighting cancer was the furthest thing from her mind. It was great to see her smile and giggle and laugh. You both brought so much joy to Libby’s life and for that I will be forever grateful…bless you both.

Anyone who knows Libby knows that she loves card tricks, and anything magic so when she saw Landon perform his audition on the 2011 season of America’s Got Talent she instantly became a fan. Landon finished 5th place; higher than any magician has every placed in the show! She followed the entire season and was thrilled that he made it to the top five but very sad that he did not win.As noted in Landon’s bio, he is referred to by the magic industries insiders as, “Magic’s breath of fresh air”, Swank gives a performance that appeals to the masses. He offers a thrilling journey into the unknown, the unexpected and the unexplainable as it can only be described as The Magic of Landon Swank.

Thank you again “kids” for sharing in our day.

Faith, Trust and Pixie Dust…

FOLLOW LIBBY’S BRAVE JOURNEY AT www.wristsaroundtheworld.com


Andiamo Columbus!

isnthcina_fullsizeReaders, today I have a better-late-than-never interview for you, and of course nature weighed in on this one.  Interestingly, I had an interview set up with none other than Christopher Columbus that coincided with Columbus Day, but Hurricane Sandy had a voice in this.  Mr. Columbus, welcome!

C.C.: Caio! I mean, hello!

H.E.:  There is great debate about what your real motivations were for risking lives to discover the New World.  Can you comment on what you were really thinking back there in Spain?

C.C.: I wassa thinking that Isabella was a pretty nice lady. What can I do? My blood, she is Italian.

H.E.:  Were there any dangerous points along the way that made you consider turning back?

C.C.: Some of the sailors, they…weren’t lookin’ so good. Some of them even say I looka nice for a man. I think to myself, “Eh, Christoph…you need to find these men some women quick.” I say a little prayer and then boom- we finda land. I’mma one lucky sonafabitch.

H.E.:  Rumor has it that you were in fact lost on your first trip, yet you are hailed as a navigational genius.  Any comment on that apparent disparity of opinion?

C.C.: Hey…that’s some a pretty bigga words coming from someone who needs a the GPS to find her way out of the shower.

H.E.:  You probably also have heard some of the racier rumors about shipboard life involving grog, sodomy and the lash.  For a curious world, Chris, sheep or no sheep?  Or was this a don’t ask/don’t tell situation?

C.C.: Hey…what’s a matta you? That’s not a polite. I will say this- they don’ta call them a “Seamen” for nothing.

H.E.:  Obviously a lot has changed.  On that note, America back then, or America now – which do you like better?

C.C.: That’s a easy – America today! They have a holiday justa for me!

H.E.: Okay, so if you had to do it all over again, what would you choose to do differently?

C.C.: Turna left.

H.E.:  To wrap this up, Chris, your thoughts on the holiday in your honor?

C.C.: It’s lika my mama used to say, “All good things come from Italy.”


CITIZENS OF BLOGWORLD – I BESEECH YOU

BloggerIdol

My fellow Blogglanders,

I’d like to take a moment to step outside of the humor box and use my blog post today as an opportunity to spread awareness for a cause I truly believe in.

There comes a time in the lives of all bloggers when we find a need to step back and reflect on our journey through the virtual utopia that is Blogworld. Some of us have come here to broaden our horizons and to find inspiration within the photo or travel blogs that pepper the Freshly Pressed page. Many of us find comfort and community amongst the animal lover or mommy blogs of WordPress. Still others use their blog to extract humor from the banality of the workday life and to share their plight with the blog world around them.

But once in a great while there comes a blogger who stands out among the rest- a blogger who effortlessly straddles the line between tragedy and comedy. A blogger who bucks convention with his often times controversial opinions on the validity of religion or the sanctity of marriage or the awesomeness of Star Trek. A blogger who challenges the status quo, strives to enlighten both men and women alike, and who boldly laughs in the face of clowns.

It is this singular blogger who I believe can deliver us all into an era of change and lead us down a path of righteousness and light. That is why I, Hellis of Bloggerland, am asking its citizens for their support and their vote for EDWARD HOTSPUR as champion of the BLOGGER IDOL contest.

“Amongst the weeds of the world, a flower grows…”

CAST YOUR VOTE FOR EDWARD HOTSPUR HERE:


F*cked Up Fairy Tales

F*CKED UP FAIRY TALES is a compilation project for bloggers who wish to take up the challenge of writing their own spin on a classic fairy tale. Bloggers are invited to choose one of the tales below and leave their choice in the comments. Only one tale per blogger, please. I will update the list as soon as the choices roll in. Tales are assigned on a first come, first choose basis.

Each tale is to be no more than 5000 words in length, and can be as funny, sick, twisted, erotic or vanilla as you wish. Once your tale is finished feel free to email it back to me where I will run it in a feature post as well add it to the page above. When all the tales are complete, I will work with a publishing company who is volunteering to publish the compilation of works in both ebook and paperback formats. All proceeds from the compiled works will be donated to a participating charity, with sales records made available to contributors annually.

UPDATE – ALL TALES ARE ASSIGNED. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO PARTICIPATE AND HAVE NOT RECEIVED A TALE, LEAVE AN IDEA IN THE COMMENTS AND I’LL ADD IT TO THE LIST.


Happy Blogiversary To Me!

COVER

TODAY IS THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF MY BLOG! TO COMMEMORATE THIS AUSPICIOUS OCCASION I HAVE DECIDED TO RERUN MY VERY FIRST BLOG POST.

PLEASE TO ENJOY…

So yeah, I wrote a book.

I must have been high when I wrote it because there’s no other explanation I can give for my 120,000 word upper YA novel where the only noun I used more than “boner” was “blood.” It goes without saying that I’m self-published. I didn’t even try to submit it traditionally. Can you just imagine the poor agent who gets my query letter?

“My novel, THE GODS OF ASPHALT is complete at 120,000 words and is the first in a series of five books that for some reason I’ve decided to write out-of-order. Each one is told from the point of view of a teenage male protagonist who has exactly zero supernatural powers (unless you consider perpetual erections a superpower). Oh, and it also has Spanish subtitles.”

Yeah.

On the good side, if you’re like me and are just a little too into music, motorcycles and all around badassery this is the book for you. If you’re not, I’m sure Jodi Picoult’s got a blog somewhere. You can find the opening to chapter one at the top of the page under the tab GOA REVIEWS and you can find my book on line at:

SMASHWORDS

AMAZON


Gosh A Damn…

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Against my better judgement, I had a conversation with my mother about my bright idea to help her start her own blog. That may sound like a good idea, until you discover that this all happened long distance over the phone. Since misery loves company, I had the presence of mind to put her on speaker phone and record it all for you to hear.

Sadly, WordPress does not allow me to upload wave files, so you all will be deprived of nearly ninety minutes of my aural torture. Below is a video that recreates the experience as closely as I’ve been able to find.


Prince Charming Has Left The Building

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These past few weeks have seen many milestones at my house, but none more so than my oldest son, Prince Charming, turning eighteen and graduating high school.

From the day he was born he’s been a non-stop ball of energy who gave his father and I, both full of energy ourselves, a run for our money.

First there was elementary school where he was expelled from Kindergarten for setting off the fire alarm and causing the Fire Department to respond not once, not twice, but three times in one week. Somebody wanted to take a ride on the engine.

The next eight years were a blur of parent-teacher meetings and organized after school activities, all designed to burn off his excess energy. You can imagine how ecstatic his father and I were when he managed to graduate from the eighth grade and went on to play high school football.

High school brought new concerns in the form of girls. “Prince Charming” isn’t a name I came up with– it was bestowed upon him by his female classmates who responded to his reputation for being gentlemanly. You better believe I take full credit for teaching him that.

And while Prince Charming was a great kid he struggled academically and worked for every grade he got. Everyday his father and I worked right along side him to get him where he needed to go. When he took that walk up to the podium to accept his diploma, there wasn’t a dry eye in our family. My son has come a long way from the first time we held him to letting him go today.

To the right is the first picture I ever took of my son Michael (he’s a man now so I guess I can say his name). The picture is of him with his father at three days old (Yeah, I’m onto you, HR. Don’t think I didn’t notice you wearing my Doctor Feelgood concert tee shirt. I knew you had it!)

It’s kind of frightening to think that my son is older today than HR was in this picture. Both HR and I take pride in raising a kid who made better choices than we did. We can only hope to say the same thing about Junior someday. Yeah, I’m not holding my breath.

*** CONGRATULATIONS MICHAEL ***



The Hellis 100 (81-90)

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After taking a brief hiatus to participate in the real world (blah) I have returned to post the next installment of THE HELLIS 100 series.

One of the ideas I’ve tossed around lately is taking up the challenge of writing a screenplay. But what to write about? A movie about life in New England? A story about growing up with my Italian mother? Who knew it would be a trip to my Site Stats page and a view of my top commentors that would inspire my latest, greatest idea. I give you…

THE TOP TEN COMMENTORS AND THE ACTORS WHO PORTRAY THEM IN MY SCREENPLAY…

HELLIS IN BLOGGERLAND

It goes without saying that since I don’t know anyone personally, my “dreamcast” will be comprised of actors who I believe best reflect the bloggers’ particular personality traits and not necessarily what they look like. Now let’s start the list with:

10. BESTBATHROOMBOOKS to be played by Hugh Jackman

Who better to play Les the Great than Hugh Jackman? Both are smart, witty and so very likable. The only question is, does Les dance?

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9. KAYJAI to be played by Cameron Diaz

Specifically, BAD TEACHER Cameron. Who better to do both Kayjai and the word “Fuck” justice?

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8. TRASK AVENUE to be played by Kenneth Branagh

Kenneth Branagh has the talent and ability to go from a man of great intellect to a dastardly villain in very few words. Like John, I’d pay money to watch Branagh fold towels or write a clever blog.

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7. GINGERSNAAP to be played by Sandra Bullock

Quirky, fun and self-deprecating, Sandra Bullock is the perfect fit for everyone’s favorite bloggirl next door.

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6. SANDYLIKEABEACH to be played by Charo

Not only is Charo a feisty Latin Superstar, but she’s the best choice to play someone who’s bright, bubbly and sexier than twice the women half her age.

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5. EL GUAPO to be played by Mark Ruffalo

The consummate Everyman, both Mark and El Guapo are proof that Nice Guys really do get the girl.

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4. SPARKLEBUMPS to be played by Marilyn Monroe

Was there ever any doubt that the world’s most famous sex kitten would play our girl Sparkles? Men everywhere know why.

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3. VERYNORMAL to be played by Emma Stone

No one pulls off both Badass Chick and Sweetie Pie better than Emma. Sounds like a British somebody else I know.

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2. HR NIGHTMARE to be played by Joe Manganiello

Obviously I know what HR looks like, so when I thought about who should play him in my movie I couldn’t pass up True Blood’s own Alcide (don’t believe what he says about the muscles, ladies. It’s the hair and beard that does it). Like Alcide, HR sports a perpetually pissed off look on his face, not to mention that after a lifetime of being harassed about his Transylvanian roots he absolutely despises Vampires. That means the number one top Hellis commentor is….

EDWARD HOTSPUR to be played by Ruki

Followers of Edward Hotpsur’s blog know of his love of visual kei music and specifically of the band, The GazettE. What you may not know is how similar the lead singer Ruki is to our own EH. Both are creative, enigmatic, genuine and self-aware. Both have amassed quite a following despite never trying to be mainstream and have elevated what they do to an artform. And from what I hear they both have Discharge.

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So there it is, people; HELLIS IN BLOGGERLAND. Coming soon to a blog near you!


Shit My Kid Does – Four

HATIAWH

My real world life is such a circus that at times I find it hard to believe it’s not really some pre-scripted reality show set to make higher powers roar with laughter. Don’t believe me? Well here’s an example:

OPENING SCENE:

A family of five strolls down the fairway of carnival. The smell of fried dough and the musical stylings of a local garage band permeate the warm night air. In the lead is youngest daughter BabyGirl, holding a rainbow flashing scepter and donning a white fringed cowboy hat won for her by her father. Following closely is oldest son Prince Charming, angst-ridden, attempting his best Edward Cullen impression. Last in line is middle child, Junior. All are walking at a leisurely pace through the crowd until…

ENTER THE CATALYST:

Suddenly, to the horror of the parents, the first few notes of Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline pour out of the large speakers framing the stage behind them. Both adults catch each others gaze, knowing full well what’s to come.

As if in a reoccurring nightmare that they are powerless to stop, mother and father turn slowly to look at Junior who himself is staring at Prince Charming, his eyes wild with evil contemplation. In slow motion the father reaches out for Junior as the mother shouts, “NOOO!”

But it is too late.

Charging forward, Junior snatches BabyGirl’s hat off her head, places it on his own and begins to dance, bump and grind style against the side of his much older, much larger brother’s leg. The howls of laughter from passers-by do not deter Junior, and this brave soldier pushes on, committed to the cause, straight on until the phrase, “touching me, touching you..”

SCENE TWO:

Location: The local Funeral Home….


My Secret Admirer – Twenty

CLICK ME

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did not have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for a timely post from Edward Hotspur.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

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Dear Heloise Ecclesiastes Ellis,

 

I remember the first time I laid eyes on you.  I was in kindergarten.  You wore a blue dress and smelled of huckleberry (I distinctly remember it as huckleberry because even back then I was looking stuff up on Wikipedia).  I moved in closer to admire you as you finger-painted fiery orange and red and black with a yellow stripe running down the middle of the artpaper.  I touched the gauzy film of your petticoat and you punched me in the face, shattering my nose in thirty-two places. It was only later that I realized what a gift that was, as my new proboscis bears an uncanny resemblance to Edward Hotspur’s penis.

 

As we grew older in the small town of Valentine (I’ve always wanted to give you one—a small town, not a Valentine), I realized that even though I could sing and dance, I wasn’t gay enough to keep from wanting you, even after I figured out that you are a woman—a small woman with big breasts and all the energy of a Red Bull factory wired by Nikola Tesla while Benjamin Franklin flies a kite on top of the building with a key attached to the string with a 12 gauge copper wire attached to the key so that when the whole thing electrifies from lightening, it is conducted back to the factory, which is you I think, though I got kind of lost when I started talking about wiring, as I’m not an electrician.

 

As the years flew by and you became more stacked and stacked tire after tire after tire in that random field by the pond (I worked at the Goodyear Plant and would dump them there just to give you something to do), I began to realize that you would never love me, not like you love Prince Charming and Junior.  And I knew that the shit I say would never be as meaningful as the shit your kids say, but I would yell “Shit, shit, shit?” as I hauled tires back and forth, and you would post pictures of snowy trees on your blog and I knew you saw me in every frozen leaf, especially the ones where I actually glued my picture to the leaf,  with Edward’s Penis above my lips, those lips screaming out from every gluey leaf, screaming, “Love me, Love me, Love me!”

 

I know you think needy men are pussies, but it isn’t so much need as the desire of several teenage boys wrapped together like a duct-taped suitcase filled with the masculine love of an older, unneedy salt and pepper gentleman with a moustache (moustache rides are free by the way).

 

And then, one day, I was up on the roof with a couple of tires I’d hauled up there (I thought that would be a new challenge since you’re getting tired of the Thunderdome) and you said in that husky voice of yours:

 

“Hey, Asshole.  I’ve got a gun and I’m going to blow you a new one!”

 

And when that bullet went through me I knew in my heart (the bullet was actually in my heart with all the other feelings) that you really did care.  You really did.  No one shoots someone unless they really care about them, or they just wish they had a penis like Edward Hotspur’s and they’re frustrated.

 

You’re the former, not the latter.  So I climbed down the ladder, my former self wondering why I was bleeding so profusely, and you met me at the window, the same one you like to lick so much, and before I passed out, I swear we had something real between us.

 

It was a tire.

 

Love   XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

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Dear XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX,

I cannot begin to tell you how surprised I was to receive your letter! In fact, I came as soon as I heard the postman ring my doorbell. Sorry this took so long to respond, but the postman came to my backdoor instead.

At first I thought it was my weekly delivery of tube steak or my monthly bottle of trouser snake repellent or the latest issue of Beaver Buster catalog. You can imagine my surprise to find my postman, John Thomas, standing at attention on my doorstep holding your letter in one hand and my package in the other (my dog Bukkaki got a bone or two in the mail that day).

I want you to know that I read your letter over and over while I watched West Point’s Black Knights play the Midshipmen- after I adjusted my antenna, of course. There’s nothing better in the world to me than the feeling of beating Navy. Well, maybe Magic  Johnson with ball in his hand. Not to blow my own horn, but I was a bit of ball-handler myself back in the day.

I’d love to stay and chat, but I promised Rosy Palm and her five sisters that I’d help them polish the family jewels.

Signed,

Edward Hotspur’s Penis

 

 

CLICK THE HEART BELOW FOR THIS WEEK’S SECRET ADMIRER:

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Earth Day Interview With Gaia

ADZ

In celebration of Earth Day I’ve decided to take a moment to sit down with Gaia, the Earth Goddess. Hello, Gaia. Thank you for sitting down with us today.

Oh it’s so good to be here, or anywhere for that matter. And thank you for celebrating Earth Day. It’s a small step towards saving my beautiful creation. So many people are so fucking oblivious to what is happening to this magnificent planet it boggles the mind, so thank you for the opportunity to shed a bit of light.

It’s been an unusually warm winter here in the United States. What do you attribute that to?

Well, I certainly had nothing to do with it despite what Zeus may have told you. He tried to tell me I was just having a primordial hot flash, but he’s almost as stupid about these things as most of the people on the planet.  You people need to get your heads out of your collective asses and get a fucking clue. Do you think that over a century of burning coal and gas while at the same time  cutting down my beautiful trees on a massive scale is having no effect on the atmosphere? If you don’t get your act together soon, the Earth is going to resemble Venus.

The world’s population is about to reach seven billion people. How has this affected Earth as you see it?

It’s making it damn hard for me to see the Earth. You know, almost all of the world’s problems can be attributed to one thing – too many people.  When birth control was invented I thought you’d at least have the good sense to use it. But noooo. And now, people are a planetary problem. At least most of you seem to congregate in the same areas so there are still a few pristine places where you can experience this beautiful planet in all its glory.

You have quite the following among the New Age Hippie crowd. Which do you prefer as worshipers; the Hippies or the Greeks?

Ahhh, the Greeks – the wine, the debauchery, the bacchanalia – I love me a good bacchanalia. But then the Hippies, and not just the new age Hippies, but the old age ones, too, are all about peace and love and sex and getting high and hugging trees and the music.  Yes, I think the music  tips the scale in their favor.

I’ve done some research and discovered that you have over twenty children. Which one is your favorite?

I think it was way more than twenty but I lost count of the little bastards long ago. I know most mothers don’t refer to their offspring as little bastards but I never married any of their fathers, so they were all technically bastards.  Now I’m not going to give you the standard mommy lie of ‘I don’t have a favorite, I love them all the same,’ because that is such a crock of shit. Of course, every mother has a favorite, it’s just that some mothers are better at hiding it than others.  I simply adored Phoebe but Aergia was a huge disappointment.

Which God was the best in the sack?

Ahhh, I had some wild times with Uranus. There was nothing that guy wouldn’t do. And I mean NOTHING. It was SO hot! But he got a little mean in his old age so I got the kids to kill him.  Pontus was so much fun, too. We would do some role playing, the pirate scenario was my favorite – always a hoot.  Zeus had a huge ego, but sadly his manly parts weren’t so big.

How does it feel to be the original MILF?

Fucking fantastic! Though I prefer GILF or Goddess I’d Like to Fuck. There is fucking power in being so fuckable. Every woman deserves to feel like this. I think that’s what all those poser Wicca chicks are trying to achieve by invoking my name and dancing naked under the full moon.

What does Earth’s future hold for mankind?

I think you have that question backwards. It’s more a case of what does mankind’s future hold for the Earth. If you stay on your current path, the Earth is doomed.  Earth is the only fucking planet you have. It is a glorious planet full of beauty and wonder. It can feed you and sustain you. All she asks in return is that you take care of her and nurture her. So get a fucking clue. Recycle, reuse, embrace sustainable farming, find viable sustainable energy,  clean up the place. Tread lightly on the Earth and every now and then hug a tree.

 

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Things You Can’t Unsee – Three

I will never forget the day that I walked into the house to the sound of teenage boys roaring with laughter. Barely able to breathe, Junior explained that he’d found a video of a kid throwing a tantrum because his mother cancelled his World of Warcraft membership. The following ensued…


ADHD Poem Reblog

adhd_eeg

I was nearly moved to tears the other day by a post I read at the Ohmygawd, just do what I say! blog entitled: ADHD, Our Own Personal Hell. It’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t have ADHD what the world is like for its sufferers. Imagine standing in front of a wall of televisions while someone stands behind you rapidly changing all the channels.

Now pick a single television to focus on.

I encourage you to not only read the poem below but also to visit this very entertaining blog written by Gingersnaap, a woman with a lot to say.

****

We are not like the rest,

Yet we desire to do our best.

Not meaning to disappoint or anger,

We want you to love and accept her,

Right where she is at,

But not because of obedience, no, not that.

My brain chemistry is very different,

My Dopamine non-existent.

Please, it’s not our fault,

and it often sends us into a downward catapult.

Is there a Monster under his bed?

No, but there is one is his head,

Telling him he is stupid and bad,

and that he is nothing but a Discipline case to his Dad.

We want to BE like everyone else,

Honest, it’s true.

To be told we are accepted and not a nuisance to you,

And to finish our work or not lose our cool,

But your expectation of perfection?

Well, it is that of a fool.

We need your help to fight the Demons,

both Sub-Conscience and Real,

Yet you throw your hands up and defiantly refuse to deal.

We know what we ‘SHOULD’ do,

The ignorant tell us everyday,

But I beg you to understand,

We do it all very differently, in every single way.

Ours ways are not your ways,

And yours will never be mine.

But we won’t be who YOU need us to be,

Not in any amount of time.

Our souls in constant torment,

We want to make you happy,

Yet God made us this way,

And your arrogance is crappy.

It’s ADHD and only the strong will survive,

It’s NOT because we’re lazy or dreadfully Un-Alive.

Un-Education is your worst enemy,

and will only cause more strife.

I suggest you learn more about us,

So you can have your Utopian life.

God gave this to us,

Who am I to wish for different?

Yet still I ask for more compassion,

In EVERY shape, form and fashion.

Punish us if that makes you feel better,

But I beg you to see,

This human before you,

Is desperately fighting to be free.

I cannot make it go away,

But for you we will foolishly try,

And cause more and more anxiety,

Until all we can say is GoodBye.

- written by Gingersnaap


Mean Mean Mom

As perfect as I like to think my children are, there are often times when they are anything but. The most recent embodiment of all that imperfection is my fourteen year-old son, Junior.

Like any parent I try to balance discipline with compassion as I guide him with a firm but gentle hand. But punishment is no easy task when your son out grows you by the time he’s eleven. That leaves me no option but to improvise.

Anyone who has a teenager knows the key to obedience is embarrassment, and as the parent of a teenager I have no problem with playing dirty. Below is a YouTube example of exactly the kind of thing I do to my children on a daily basis. In fact, my children are so traumatized conditioned to their response to my random public dancing that they obey as well as Pavlov’s dogs the moment the muzak cues in. So now I give you….JUNIOR’S WORST NIGHTMARE!

 

 

 


Why No NaNoWriMo

Image courtesy of Ruth Livingstone

Image courtesy of Ruthless Scribblings

For those of you out there who aren’t writers or who otherwise have lives, the month of November has officially been designated “National Novel Writing Month” by some invisible entity who I’m sure has financial interests in coffee beans and manufacturers of bandages worn by carpal tunnel syndrome sufferers.

What NaNoWriMo is supposed to represent is the coming together of writers into a virtual community where they offer each other support in pursuit of their craft. As a part-time writer and full-time poster child for Oppositional Defiance Disorder this endeavor was doomed to epic failuredom before I applied my first electron to virtual paper. So in the interest of self-analysis I’ve decided to break down the factors involved in why my second novel exists entirely in my mind. In no particular order I blame:

The New England Patriots – pound cake – Nadia G’s Bitchin’ Kitchen – my daughter’s adorable feet – Junior’s Burt Reynolds style laugh – an endlessly ringing phone thanks to Prince Charming’s charm – my mother’s inability to comprehend American television – Frank Stallone – my Jeep – The New Hampshire Primaries (stand by for a longer post tackling the magnitude of what I face daily due to this gift of the Granite State) and last but not least, this little ditty of a video that I have spent entirely too much time watching over and over. Seriously, it’s a train wreck.

And yes, that is indeed Ron Jeremy.

 


For Women Only

Question_Mark

Yes ladies, I’m shouting out to you. The Twilight Mommy-er the better. Because I’ve noticed something happening the last year or so that screams for an explanation.

Real world me works in the local school system, volunteers with children’s activities and coaches/consults on high school sports teams. At any given time I’ve got fifteen to twenty teenage boys staying/sleeping/living all over my house, and real world me is a legend among the women in my town because of it. I cannot tell you how many times women my age or older approach me and ask how I manage to keep my hormones to myself with that many boys around. What I ask them is:

WHY ON EARTH WOULD I WANT A TEENAGE BOY?!

So for all you ladies out there who think the younger guy is the way to go, let me give you a run down of my typical Saturday morning (keep in mind, most of these boys are over age eighteen):

6am: Wake up to ceiling plaster falling on my head because Junior cranked up his amp in order to demonstrate his latest Flea imitation with his new bass guitar. I text him to turn it down but he can’t hear the phone over the reverb.

6:15am: Step over a dozen boys crashed out on my living room floor on the way to the kitchen to make coffee, only to find grounds spread everywhere; my secret high-end coffee bag empty and tossed to the floor NEXT to the garbage can.

6:30am: I attempt to make a desperate phone call to the ex, begging for donuts and coffee but first have to wade through fifty plus messages left by the giggling girls calling Prince Charming (he shuts his cell phone off at night so he can get some sleep. Naturally they call the house instead).

6:45am: Go back to bed and wait for ten or more boys to take showers before I can get mine. Ladies, this is not as hot as you might think. Teenage boys smell worse coming out of the shower than they do when they went in. I don’t know how it happens, but it happens.

8:00am: Gather my clothes for a mad dash to the shower only to discover I have one remaining pair of “underthings” left in my drawer. I dig through the bathroom hamper to do a load of laundry and find most of my “underthings” missing. You heard me right, ladies. MISSING. I don’t even want to begin to think about why they’re doing that.

8:30am: The ex finally arrives with donuts for everyone and no coffee for me. The ex takes Mini Me for the day, and I listen to Prince Charming and half the superfluous boys tear out of the driveway in their ridiculously loud, lifted trucks. I go back to bed and listen to the remaining boys in the next room giggle and snicker about sex.

Now here’s where it all goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Ladies, they know NOTHING. Sure, they know body parts and what goes where, but beyond that they are completely oblivious about anything that makes sex great. Yeah…serve me up a big slice of THAT.

I’ve consulted with a few of my sisters-in-sin; SPARKLEBUMPS, LIFEINTHEFARCELANE and SAVOR THE FOLLY, and they are as lost for an explanation as I am. In my opinion males don’t begin to become remotely interesting until they’re at least forty thirty-nine (per JB). I mean it when I say that I’ll take gray around the temples over a hairless chest any day. So to all you Twilight-esque Moms I just have to ask:

WHY??!!


Why My Kid Is Awesome

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Alright people, grab a drink and settle in because we’re going to be here a while. You’re in for some shameless mom bragging ahead. Seriously, I’ve got pictures.

My oldest kid, the seventeen year-old Prince Charming, is good at math. Good enough to figure out all on his own that he had a lot to do with why I never went to college. Recently, with the encouragement and support of fellow bloggers I decided to finally soldier up and do what I’ve always talked about doing; going to school. I know adults go to college all the time, but I can’t begin to express to you how totally out of my comfort zone this is.

Yesterday I got a pep talk from one blogger in particular that I decided to share with my kid. After I finished reading it my kid stood up, walked to his room and came back carrying his football helmet. He pointed to the inside and there, written across a piece of tape was the phrase, “Leadership is action, not position.” This wasn’t the first time I’d seen this written inside his helmet, but until last night I’d forgotten all about it.

My kid has played football every year since he was ten years-old; first in the Pee Wee league and then on into high school. And even though he’s played every position there is, it was the middle linebacker position that seemed the best fit. He held that position for three years before high school.

Then the day came for the high school football team try outs. He wanted that middle linebacker position more than anything and took the field hell-bent on making sure no one out performed him. No one did.

But he didn’t get middle linebacker. The town selectman’s son did. The son who never played a game of football a single day in his life. The son who never showed up to a practice straight and most days didn’t show up at all. The son of the town selectman who approved the budget for the new lights for the football field. A tough lesson for my kid to learn at thirteen.*

Now my kid’s got a temper, so I had a whole speech lined up and ready to give just as soon as I thought he was ready to hear it. But instead of ranting and raving and quitting the team like I thought he would, he wrote “Leadership is action, not position” on a piece of tape, stuck it to the inside of his helmet and without saying a word took the field at left tackle.

Last night I asked him what was going through his mind that first day, and why he didn’t react the way I thought he would. And that’s when my kid said, “After Coach announced the positions I tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t look me in the eye. That’s when I knew for sure he rolled over. So instead of walking I decided to play like I always play, no matter how messed up the reasons were behind it. I take the field to win for myself. It doesn’t matter how you get where you’re going in order to be successful, you just need to play to win. And I’m sure you will too.”

Yeah, I broke my “no cry” rule.

Now here’s some history on why my kid is awesome. I’m warning you, it’s not going to be brief.

  • This is a kid who refused to take the field at the start of a football game because the opposing team couldn’t be bothered to stand for the Star Spangled Banner. He stood his ground until they did it over.
  • This is a kid who got illegally slammed during the playoffs, swore up and down he was fine and refused to leave the field. Later at the hospital we found out he played the last three quarters of the game with two cracked ribs (as a parent I was horrified, but secretly I thought it was pretty badass).**
  • In eighth grade he stood up for some shy girls who were being picked on by some mean girls. Those shy girls, as well as quite a few others banded together and made a fan club in his honor, complete with buttons with his picture on it. You better believe Junior never lets him forget this.
  • He was hand selected by the high school guidance counselor to be the lead peer mentor for an in school program that works with at risk kids.
  • Has grown his hair to donate to the LOCKS OF LOVE charity three times.
  • Was the only junior firefighter mentioned by name and honored in a ceremony by the Fire Chief for setting up a shelter during the ice storm that knocked power out of our region for nearly a month. He was fourteen years old.
  • His volunteer efforts are too numerous to mention and he can often be seen digging out fire hydrants after snow storms or changing tires on the side of the road for little old ladies. No joke. It made the paper.

But life hasn’t been easy for my kid. Despite his best efforts he struggles for grades, and because of his looks was often a target for bullying when he was younger. The bullying quickly faded in high school when boys figured out that wherever there were girls, there was my kid (hence the nickname, Prince Charming).***

  • Despite the fact that my younger son Junior is a living legend in our town, Prince Charming is Junior’s biggest fan and champion and never begrudges him a minute of his uber popularity.
  • When his best friend decided to come out of the closet my kid was the only one who stood by him, and in the process lost many so-called “friends” and invitations to parties because of it. When the friend’s father kicked this boy out, my kid asked if he could live with us. He’s been with us for over a year now.
  • His sophomore year my kid had a girlfriend named Rebekah. After her father was diagnosed with terminal cancer my kid spent every weekend the last month of this man’s life helping out with household chores like chopping wood and working on the family car. My kid was at this man’s home everyday for a week before he died, and delivered his first eulogy at the funeral. He delivered his second a week later when Rebekah was killed in a car accident herself. My kid was fifteen years-old.

With all the craziness that goes on in my day-to-day life it’s all too easy for me to forget just how amazing this kid is. Every decision I’ve made since he was born was to benefit him, so it’s almost impossible for me to imagine a time when I would do something strictly for myself. When I told him this he said, “I’m almost eighteen, which is technically a man, so now you can’t say you didn’t go to school because you had a kid to raise.” Then he handed me an algebra textbook he borrowed from school and said, “Now get to work.”

********************************************

* Ten days after positions were handed out the town selectman’s kid got busted for selling weed. Guess who got middle linebacker after all.

** The best tackle of the day wasn’t made by the opposing team against my kid; it was made by me slamming Junior as he shouted at the top of his lungs from the stands, “HEY KID! YEAH YOU! I SAW WHAT YOU DID TO MY BROTHER EVEN IF THE REF DIDN’T! YOU BETTER GET SOMEONE TO WALK YOU THROUGH THE PARKING LOT ‘CUZ I’M GONNA–” Yeah, that’s when I dropped him.

*** Last year my kid disappeared for about an hour or so every Wednesday night around 7pm. to “take a walk.” I began to get concerned so I flat-out asked him what was going on. Here’s how the conversation went:

KID: “I’m taking tango lessons.”

ME: “Nice try. Should I be worried?”

KID: “I’m serious. I overheard the girls on the dance team say that they were starting tango lessons at the dance academy downtown.”

ME: “Yeah, so?”

KID: “So how many guys do you think are going to join up? I’ll tell you how many. None. Now all those girls are going to need someone to practice dancing with. Think about it.”

Interesting side note, his plan worked so well that he went on to join the dance team officially. His football coaches are NOT happy.


Conversations With My Mother — Part Three

Scene: It’s my mother’s birthday and she’s just received a package in the mail from my aunt Claudina.

MOM: (opens present, sneers in disgust) “Oh that’s just great.”

ME: “What is it?”

MOM: “It’s a CD. Celine Dion.”

ME: “Uh…ok. I didn’t know you had such a problem with Celine Dion. Glad to know for once we agree on something.”

MOM: “Of course I have a problem with her. She tore up a picture of the Pope.”

ME: “She did? I never heard of her doing that. When did this happen?”

MOM: “Oh, it was years ago, on that show there…the funny one your father used to watch, you know which one I’m talking about.”

ME: “No, mom as usual I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

MOM: “You know, the show with the Church Lady…your father watched it every Saturday…”

ME: (comprehension slowly washes over me) “Mom…are you talking about Saturday Night Live?”

MOM: “YES! That was it. She tore up a picture of the Pope on that show.”

ME: (laughing) “No she didn’t. That was Sinead O’Connor.”

MOM: “Sinead O’ Who?”

ME: “Sinead O’Connor. She’s a singer from Ireland. She’s the one who tore up the picture, not Celine Dion.”

MOM: “OH!!! Well then, let’s listen to the CD.”

ME: “NO! NO! IT WAS CELINE DION! IT WAS I SWEAR!!!!!”


Conversations With My Mother – Volume Two

Telephone call I received from my mother after I told her I started a blog:

MOM: “I’m on the Yahoo right now and I can’t find you.”

ME: “Huh? The Yahoo…oh, if you’re talking about my blog it’s http://www.heellisgoa.com

MOM: “I tried typing that and it’s not working.”

ME: “Where are you typing it in?”

MOM: “On the computer.”

ME: “No, I mean…when you look at the screen what box are the letters appearing in as you type?”

MOM: “Uh…the box that says, ‘Search Web.’”

ME: “OK, try this instead. Look up at the top of the screen to a long horizontal box. That’s called an address bar. Type in there.”

MOM: (mumbling something about how stupid the word “blog” is as she types). “I typed inside that bar like you said but nothing happened. I hate computers. You know it was an Italian who first invented radio communication. Technology’s all gone down hill since then…”

MOM: “Mom, I need you to focus.”

ME: “Fine, fine. There. See? It’s not working.”

ME: “What came up after you typed in the address bar?”

MOM: “A screen with pictures of street maps.”

ME: “Maps? That doesn’t make any sense…”

MOM: “Oh! I know what I forgot to do. Give me a minute…alright. Now, what’s your zip code?”

ME: “My zip code? What do you need that for?”

MOM: “I forgot to type it in the address bar after ‘New Hampshire.’”

ME: “Mom…why are you typing New Hampshire at all?”

MOM: “Well how else is the Yahoo going to find you?”

ME: “Yeah. Put my sister on the phone.”


Somebody Shoot Me

A Conversation with my mother the day I told her I finished my novel.

ME: “Well Mom, it’s done. I finally finished it.”

MOM: “Finished what?”

ME: “Uh…my novel. The one I’ve been working on for the past year. Yeah, it’s done.”

MOM: “I had no idea you were writing a book! What is it about?”

ME: (sighs) “It’s a young adult novel about a teenager named Sawyer Hayden who–”

MOM: “Sawyer? Oh I don’t like that name.”

ME: ”Well it’s too late to change it now. ANYWAY…he wants a basketball scholarship so he–”

MOM: “Basketball? But you don’t play basketball! And why are you writing about boys anyway? You’re a woman who lives in New Hampshire! I know what you should do. Join a writing group and try to make friends with that woman writer there…

ME:  Please don’t say Jodi Picoult.

MOM: …the one who writes all those nice cancer books. You know who I mean.”

ME: (sigh 2x) “Her name’s Jodi Picoult, mom.”

MOM: “No, that’s not it. Well, whoever she is I hear her books are very popular.”

ME: “FINE! WHATEVER! JUST LISTEN!” (deep breath) “In my book Sawyer asks his brother River to help–”

MOM: “RIVER? Oh I don’t like that name either. Why did you pick such ugly American names? With so many nice names in our family to choose from you–”

ME: “HOW ABOUT RAPHAEL? THAT’S WHAT I NAMED THE DAD SO HOW ABOUT THAT!”

MOM: “Finally a name I like! It’s about time you remembered you’re Italian.”

ME: “Ok…but just so you know, I made the dad Spanish.”

MOM: (appalled) “NOW WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST MAKE HIM ITALIAN? HOW AM I GOING TO TELL THE FAMILY IN ITALY THAT MY DAUGHTER WROTE A BOOK ABOUT SPANIARDS AND NOT ITALIANS?!”

ME: “I’M IRISH TOO, MOM! WHY DON’T I JUST MAKE HIM IRISH LIKE MY DAD, HUH? HOW’S THAT SOUND?”

MOM: “Spanish is fine.”

ME: “CAN WE FOCUS NOW? PLEASE?!”

MOM: “Yes, yes. Continue.”

ME: (sighs, molto frustrato) “So SAWYER leaves his father and moves to Nebraska–”

MOM: Bites lip.

ME: “NOW what’s wrong?”

MOM: “Well…why does he have to live in Nebraska? It’s a land locked state.”

ME: (rubbing temples) “What does Nebraska being a land locked state have to do with anything?”

MOM: “I don’t trust the seafood in land locked states. It’s too expensive. What you’re really paying for is the truck to have it delivered. They don’t fool me.”

ME: “Fine. You know what? I’ll change it to a coastal state–”

MOM: “OOH! You should make it Hawaii! I’ve always wanted to go there. You know they filmed that show LOST in Hawaii. But then you couldn’t use the name Sawyer. Hey! Now you can change that too! I always liked that doctor Jack–”

ME: “MOM! It can’t be Hawaii because Raphael is a long haul truck driver and that’s how Sawyer gets to Nebraska to live with his grandfather so he can get a basketball scholarship.”

MOM: “Well why does he even need a scholarship? With the price of seafood nowadays the father should have no problem paying for–”

ME: “You know what? Forget it. I didn’t write a book. I made a quilt.”

MOM: “Oh don’t be so sensitive. Tell me what the grandfather’s name is. Something good I hope.”

ME: “GUS.”

MOM: (flinches, thinks and then says) “So SAYWER leaves a man named RAPHAEL to live with a man named GUS?”

ME: “Yes but mom, Gus is awesome. He’s a biker and a southern rock roadie with…bad…ass…tattoos…”

MOM: (near tears) “What happened to my dainty daughter who used to love to read books and write stories and listen to music?!”

ME: “She changed her name to Sawyer.”


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