*Since this post contains actual dialogue between my mother and I, it contains about 200% more swearing than usual. You’ve been warned.*
I swear a lot. For awhile, when Kid was little, I tried really hard to stop. I know I know, “there is no try, only do.” But, I just can’t stop. I’ve just accepted it, taught Kid that I use terrible Mommy words and am very naughty for doing so, and then give her quarters when I swear. Oh also, she makes me say this, “I’m very sorry I used the word X, it’s inappropriate and I’m sorry if it hurt your feelings.” I usually have to say this to my mom at least 4 times in the course of a phone call.
Mom and Me, May 1978. Aren't we cute?
Anyhow, since my mom has found my blog, and figured out comments, I figured I better get this Klog out of the cooker before she spoils it 😉 I have actually had people ask me, “Do you kiss your Mother with that mouth?” Well, the answer is yes, and no. No, because my mother has a strict no touching policy (yeah that’s probably a blog post some other time). Yes, because my mother also swears like a pirate. To better illustrate the linguistic stylings of my mom and I, here, for your enjoyment, is a reenactment of an actual conversation I had with my mom the other day. (For you crazy mommy trolls, no Kid was not in the car.)
Me: Did I tell you what happened to me at the fucking grocery store the other day?
Mom: I fucking hate Hannaford.
Me: Me too. So anyway, I had to get some chicken, which I hate buying there because their meat is fucking gross and I’ve had to return it like 100 times, but I was busy.
Mom: No shit.
Me: Anyway, I had one of those fucking carts with a plastic car for kids to sit in attached at one end, like a mac truck.
Mom: I fucking hate those.
Me: Me too! So, I had to put my shopping bags on the bottom underneath the cart, and the fucking chicken leaked and got all over my fucking bags.
Mom: That’s fucking gross! What did you do?
Me: Welll, I put it on the counter and told the cashier, who was like 12, that it leaked and she goes, “Oh, do you want me to put it in a plastic bag?” And I was like, “No fucking way! I want you to throw it away. Also, I have chicken juice all over my hands.”
Me: I know right? Oh and I forgot to tell you, Mrs. X and Mrs. Y (two ladies who were the bane of our existences while I was in school) were in the next lane, and I had all these people backing up behind me and it was a huge scene.
Mom: Hahahahahhahaha! Only at fucking Hannaford!
Me: So, I say to the girl, “Hey I have chicken juice all over my hands, I need to clean them off before I can unload my groceries.” Guess what she does?
Mom: Gives you a fucking squirt of Purell?
Me: Oh, I wish. She hands me a fucking roll of paper towels and some fucking windex.
Me: Yes. I shit you not. I squirted half a gallon of windex on my hands and then used her super crappy paper towels, you know the ones that are only one step above cardboard? My hands are still all dry and fucked up, like two days later.
Mom: What did you do with your bags?
Me: I put them in a plastic bag. They’re in my trunk. Do you think I should wash them?
Mom: No, throw that shit away. They are fucking covered with Salmonella.
As you can see, my mom is fucking awesome. You kids be nice to her in the comments.