Archive for February, 2013

Conversations with me never seem to go the way people intend.

Him: Glad you care *pecks your cheek*
Me: OK as long as that isn’t a la Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. There is a lot of pecking in that movie, it kills you. Caw caw! Cheek meat! CAW!
End of conversation.
Her: My body is all out of fucking whack.
Me: Then go get more Fucking Whack, duh.
Her: You dick.

A friend of mine posted a computer drawn picture of herself standing in a doctor’s office. Her leg in the cartoon was unintentionally yet hilariously deformed looking, and because I am a jerk I could not restrain myself.

Might I suggest an orthopedic surgeon instead.

Me: It is probably going to be too late for a doctor to save that leg.

Friend:  LMFAO I am not the best bitstripper.

Someone else: What the fuck is a bitstripper?

Friend:  A person that makes bit strips, it’s the app I used to make these things.

Me:  I am going to assume a bitstripper is a person who dances in the nude wearing a bridle while pretending to be a horse.

Seems like the logical definition to me.

People who know me and have met my mother know that it is nearly impossible to take her anywhere without maximum embarrassment. She has such a talent for the awkward that she even succeeds in humiliation when the other people involved do not speak the same language. Today I will regale you three excellent reasons why you should not take my mom anywhere.  This will include mom managing to embarrass everyone at the table even though no one else spoke English; followed by how even Stephen Tyler has been caught in her humiliation storm, then lastly how a hot beverage turned into a public nightmare.

I Speak My Own Language

Some time around the year 2001, my family decided it would be fun to travel around Canada on vacation. My sister now fluently speaks French but at the time none of us were close to fluent speakers. My sister and I had taken enough French in school that we could blunder our way through it if people talked to us like we were idiots. My French still has not improved much beyond that point. As far as translations were concerned for the trip, that was all we had to work with. Throughout most of the trip it was pretty easy to find people who spoke English and so it was not a big issue. My mom is one of those people who seems to think she can speak any language as long as she uses weird accents, kind of like Peggy Hill and her Spanish on the show King of the Hill. One afternoon we went to lunch in Quebec where all of the staff seemed to speak strictly French.  This was still not a huge issue because reading the menu was pretty straight forward. Unfortunately for the server, the witnesses, and all of us, mom had decided to bust out her French on our unsuspecting waitress. She looked at the menu then back at the waitress and in the most stereotypical American accent ever she said “excuse me, grassy-ASS señor” right to her. The look on the server’s face clearly stated that she had no idea what just happened. When we tried to stop mom from trying anything else she thought might be French she said it again; this time with a posh frown and copious amount of unnecessary head movements. At this point the server went and got someone else and repeated my mother’s excellent français to try and interpret it. By the end of lunch we had already decided that as long as mom was in tow, foreign locations were out.


In the same year that mom had bombed her attempt at French she also successfully pissed off Stephen Tyler twice in the span of two minutes. We were in Boston together sitting outside while mom finished a smoke. While we were sitting there a large group of people including several police walked by us. As soon as the group was next to us mom shouts “look Lorelei Mick Jagger!” He stopped walking and turned around. It was not Mick Jagger it was Stephen Tyler and he did not look amused. I corrected her and told her he was from Aerosmith and hoped he was not as offended as he looked. It wouldn’t be mom though if she didn’t instantly make it worse. The next sentence out of her mouth was “whatever they both have huge lips.” She did not even wait for him to turn away from her before she said it, if looks could kill she would have burst into flames. Thankfully he didn’t say anything and just walked away. One of these days I suspect she is going to get a bill in the mail from his therapist.

Coffee or Tea?

At least a decade ago I was in a Walmart with my sister and mom looking for various items. When we walked down the beverage isle, my sister grabbed a box of teabags, put them on her face, and said “look Lorelei teabagging.” We both chuckled but then mom turns around and says in her outside voice “what is this teabagging about?”  Neither of us wanted to explain the meaning to her so we just kept ignoring the question. Mom was hellbent on finding out what it was all about so she started asking random customers in the store. She had probably said to half a dozen people “excuse me what is teabagging?” The more people she asked the funnier it got because no one wanted to answer her. To our relief she had finally stopped  asking  customers, we thought she had given up entirely when in reality she was just looking for someone she deemed more knowledgeable. As we were checking out she asked the cashier, who appeared to be a 15 year old teenage girl, if she knew what teabagging was. The cashier immediately turned a bright crimson hue and walked away. We told mom if she really wanted to know then she should just ask dad.

My mother has a special talent for embarrassment way beyond the normal spectrum of public humiliation that most people are used to.  There are so many examples that I could not hope to cover them all in one post. Today I think I will cover my mom’s failed espionage, the smell of the phone, and how much she loves Beefaroni. The first two are fairly run of the mill embarrassing, the last is probably worthy of a bumper sticker.

Mom’s Failed Espionage

Years ago I had invited my best friend over to hang out. I had not seen her since high school many years prior and we thought catching up would be a good idea. We decided to sit in the living room and just talk about life in general. At least that is what I think we were talking about, I honestly don’t remember. For good reason I cannot recall a single thing about that afternoon other than my mother trying to eavesdrop. Mom always loves to listen in on conversations that have nothing to do with her and her skills of being inconspicuous fail her greatly. True to her nature of needing to know everything, she had planted herself in one of the chairs directly across from my friend. She was poorly pretending to read a book. It was such a bad act that the book was about two inches below eye level and she was very clearly staring right over the top of it at my friend. Even when we looked at her she just stared right back over the top of the book and didn’t move. I guess she assumed that if she did not move we could not see her. She had probably watched Jurassic Park one too many times and figured if it works on a T-Rex it would work on people. This was probably eight years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday, so does my friend. She must not have known that to read a book you need to actually look at it once in a while.

Smell My Phone

Years ago when we had just a landline and one phone, I was at the mercy of the other people who used the phone and the weird things they did while on it.  Often times when people were having a personal conversation, having a five foot cord, they would shut themselves in the bathroom to try and deter others from listening. The problem is that when you can only go as far as the bathroom and you have a two hour conversation, the list of things to do gets pretty short. Usually people would look at themselves in the mirror, make stupid faces, pace, or brush their hair. Options were sparse. Unfortunately for me someone during a previous conversation must have been playing with perfume or some other flowery substance. When I had picked up the phone to talk to a friend I noticed the phone smelled quite strongly of something  you might find in a florist’s shop in hell. I was irritated with the stench and asked the most likely candidate, my mom, if she knew anything about it. When I told her that the phone smelled she walked up, put her nostrils right on the receiver, and sniffed as hard as she could into my friend’s ear. Apparently it made quite a sound, to this day we  ask each other to smell our phones.


A few years ago my family decided to go see a ballet of The Nutcracker. It turned out to be a pretty bad production starring many children with pipe cleaner wings and the like.  The majority of the people attending were way too posh to even smile. During the ballet my sister and I got bored and started making fun of these people. My sister started frowning and saying “The weight of my fortune is so great it pulls down the corners of my mouth.” We continued this for most of the night but whenever an act finished we would clap and yell random words in Italian. We started with things like bravo and bravissimo but seeing as how neither of us spoke Italian we quickly ran out of words. That was when we started shouting anything that could be even slightly thought of as Italian like fettuccine, prego, and alfredo. When it was my turn to shout a word I could not even think of another pasta to shout so I yelled “Beefaroni!” Of course mom had not been paying attention to us and had no idea as to why we were yelling about pasta and Chef Boyardee products. She only heard the last word “Beefaroni.” With the best and worst timing in the world she looked over at us and said “hey I LIKE Beefaroni!’ This happened at the exact moment everyone had gone silent and every single person in that audience had heard her. Many people turned to look at her with their posh frowns. We have not gone to a ballet since.