Da Mom Diggity

My mother has a policy of me texting her and my Dad if and when I travel anywhere to let them know of my safe arrival. Totally always trendy in the (immigrant?) parenting world at any age or stage of life. If that means a text when I get to the grocery store that’s located on the far side of town, so be it.

They still expect this small and easy task of me even though I no longer live in their house and, in fact, live 3000 miles across the country. It’s the least I can do. Really. Just let a motha know!

However, it was much to my surprise and delight that I received a text from mommaroo the other day in this exact vein (not paraphrasing, this is the real deal): “Just landed in Chicago.”

Not only did I have no idea my parents were going to Chicago or why, but I had no idea that my mother holds herself to the same high standards that she espouses in me. So I wrote back “It’s about time!” to keep the mood light and the sentiments fresh.

P.S. This is my favorite audience for jokes these days. OBVI I use them for bringer shows too. They’re not huge drinkers, but they are huge winkers.

Let’s Call It Even. Happy Early Mother’s Day?

I am currently without a car (take that, gas prices!) so my mom drops me at the subway station in the morning as a means of me getting to work in a timely fashion.

Yesterday, I made her late to work in the process because I got ready too slowly and she had to wait for me.

So as I was getting in the car to the soundtrack of her snipping at me, she, in her haste, accidentally started driving before I was fully inside, and I got mildly dragged about a foot.

I yelped in protest and she stopped the car with a gasp.

This event quickly changed the balance of power wherein I quickly became the victim and she the perpetrator. However, instead of taking advantage of my newfound success, I instead sympathized with her even further. I, the former irresponsible jerk, had quickly become the unlikely hero.

Even I couldn’t reap the entangled benefits of such a sordid state of affairs, and we both silently agreed never to speak of either event again.

Until now.

Ok, heads, you’re an insensitive lug. Tails, I am. Call it.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Micah Sittig

More Like Gift Store! HEHEHEHEHE.

it’s high time for the updating game! update-my-mom! who wants to upmarry-my-dad?

no you can’t. that was a joke.

speaking of my mother, she’s been getting increasingly cheeky these days. yesterday morning she ran into my room squealing “lookit my belt! lookit my belt!” and i’ll be honest. it was an impressive belt. it was very wide and black with an ornate gold buckle. a real statement-maker. so i rounded my eyes appropriately and cooed & oohed, and then she giggled like a schoolgirl and ran away! i tell ya! i barely had half an eye open.

emphasis on schoolgirl though. she’s taking a conversational spanish class, and whenever my mom returns to academia, she gets really giddy. that gene skipped a generaciĆ³n.

meanwhile, my cellphone is living in the past! the date and time on it are for last friday afternoon. i’m trying to remember what happened then in case it’s trying to tell me something memento-style. but no, i think it’s just a sentimental headcase. actually, i lost it for a few moons so maybe it’s just being nostalgic for the good old days before i became a neglectful parent. I GET THE POINT, MOTOROLLYBABY. i’ll upload a nice bubble bath ringtone later. howzatsound?

anyway. i didn’t come here to talk about my problems. i have stories. i went to a diner the other night WITH CHAMPAGNE ON THE MENU. 24-hours of champagne! breakfast all day, but also mimosas. i had my first mimosa this past weekend so i’m trying to tie everything together like an amateur. when is it not appropriate to have champagne?

i’ll take my bubbly blurry, please. champagne goggles?

breakfast/brunch/lunch? no.
dinner? no.
afternoon snack? yer pushing it, but must be a good day/the worst day ever! i’ll toast to either.


in funclusion, nadia and i trolled the suburbs this past weekend for vintage clothing. ok mainly one thrift store. we had to go way far out, past neighborhoods where nadia commented “these are the ‘mom jeans’ of houses.” [brilliant] and finally we got there. it was impressive. like a strip mall oasis with a bargain king lording over it!

what a name. nothing screams counterculture more.

but the insides were just as fantastic as the outsides. not only was everything organized impeccably like a retail flea sale, but the knick knacks section alone was something to detail in a photo essay.

so without further ado, in the name of speaking literally rather than metaphorically…




free drug-endorsed coaster storage unit

Because for a small fee, my overly useful free stuff can be your “free” stuff! Who doesn’t endorse allergy medication?! Once your coaster’s job is done, the fun has just begun. Stack it, pack it, admire it. For maximal gains, use with drug-endorsed coasters (preferably not a Claritin competitor. Allegra, I’m looking at you. Ahhh Allegra? More like Ahh-chooo! ZING ZONG!)


sturdy jar of assorted sugars and grains

Because you don’t want the apocalypse to catch you unprepared! Sweeten up your locust-ridden crop with this handy quick-fix. Also goes great between an olive jar and a pickle jar to prevent inbreeding. I’m pretty sure this gem was someone’s science fair project.

and fer the grand finale-


statuette of our nation’s finest protecting hapless little girlboy

Because when you see this, your first thought is ‘You. My Mantel. Now.’ I want to see the face of the (wo)man who made this avant-garde collectible. Also keeps away bullies/pedophiles/friends/neighbors/family/everyone.