Sunday, April 23, 2006

Note to Self: Don't do this to your kids in 2033


---In the shop buying some beer for Mr. Fox.

Quite suddenly my mum's far too extrovert, gossipy friend jumps behind the selves.

Mum's friend: [glancing curiously over the bottles in the trolley]
Having a sauna-day? Are you sure that is enough?
Me:
a) Yes.
b) No, actually I drink three bottles of wine a day. It's not enough. Why don't you go now and tell the whole village what a boozer I am.
Mum's friend: [looking curiously at the bin-bags I bought]
Oh, you buy those cheap ones.
Me:
a) Yes.
b) Bugger off you curious b****.
Mum's friend: Your mother told me about that phone-incident. Don't do that anymore. It's not good to waste police's time.
Me:
a) Oh, ha ha, no I surely won't.
b) I'm going to kill my mum now.

---Later having a coffee with mum and some relatives

Mum: Are you sure of what you are doing? Isn't it good to be what you are? There must be thousands of well-paid vacancies open for those art... erm... something...what you are.
Me: I want at least try this...
Mum: If you'd go to study something else. A doctor sounds nice.
Me: Mum, I'm 33.
Mum: How about an assistant nurse then?
Me: Mum, seriously.
Mum: Have you got any money?
Me: Yes.
Mum: That's nice. [gives me a tenner]
Mum: Oh, almost forgot I bought you a present.
Me: Thanks! I have always wanted ... this revitalift antiwrinkle-cream.

8 comments:

Dave said...

Ah, mothers.

Taiga the Fox said...

I'm so happy my mum can't read this.
I will go now and sing this lullaby:
Momma's gonna keep you right here under her wing
She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing.

Sopwith-Camel said...

You never know, the anti-wrinkle cream might taste nice on rye bread with smoked salmon if you run out of cream cheese.

Taiga the Fox said...

Ahh, we've got rye toast and cold smoked salmon... [I'll go bankrupt if I will end up liking it.]

CT said...

Sounds like a nightmare. Glad i'm not the only one with an interfearing mother (my mums speciality is eves dropping on my telephone conversations)

Taiga the Fox said...

IP;
A1. I was virtually in England and thought it was just half past twelve. I have a jetlag, actually a bloglag.
A2. Not unprintable: bitca.
A3. What a fine idea. He might occasionally bowl my mother over.
A4. We use foxhound tails in the fox earth. Tenner is not a fortune, I suppose.

MB; My mother tends to be as horrible nightmare as I am.

Occasional Poster of Comments said...

I should probably be grateful then that my mother fully supports my own decision to bankrupt myself whilst trying to make a career out of writing :)

Also, following my Mum's birthday celebrations, I too have had quite enough of the friends of my parents.

Some bloke: Do you remember what you wrote in my 55th birthday party visitors book?
Me: [dreading to think] No.

Some bloke: You were about 10.
Me: Oh [anticipates something unutterably precocious].

Some bloke: I wasn't sure whether to be insulted.
Me: [sensing dangerous ground] Erm, what was it?

Some bloke: It was something about being a recycled teenager.
Me: [still none the wiser] Oh, right. [assuming that this answer will suffice] I think that was probably something I got off my Dad.



[quite some minutes later]

Some bloke: So what's your assessment now?
Me: [genuinely not a clue what he's talking about] Erm, what?

Some bloke: Of me. [adopts more open posture, for display purposes persumably]. Have I changed much?
Me: Err... [opens and closes mouth, then makes vague lost for words type gesture]

Some bloke: For the better, maybe?
Me: Erm, yes?

Some bloke: [still staring expectantly]
Me: [shrugging] I suppose so. Why not?

I think I was saved at this point by the arrival of some food. As was he.

And my parents wonder why I hate social occasions.

Taiga the Fox said...

Poor you, OPC. I hope rest of the party was bit better :)
A recycled teenager sounds very interesting indeed...