The abyss briefly yaws open ...
A few days ago, I got an email from my mother-in-law, who is genuinely one of the nicest and sweetest people on Planet Earth -- she emails me all the time, she lurves me, I lurve her, and it is generally all good. But THIS email -- y'all -- she starts it off with a chipper, cheerful "I just love your blog!"
Time stopped. My eyes bugged out. My mouth dropped open and I heard myself in slo-mo going "oohhhhhhh ... nooooooooooooooooo ... "
It was a horrific thirty or so seconds before I realized she didn't mean THIS blog. Thank the disco-dancing christ, she doesn't know this one exists -- not that she's not, you know, hip and all -- but she's from Ohio, get me? I kind of try to shield her from the excesses of my personality -- she's a nice lady, she doesn't need this kind of agita.
So, J-dawg, if you ever do read this blog, despite my best efforts at prevention -- I apologize in advance for the Olympic Freestyle Cursing, the references to refreshments I may or may not have enjoyed in the past, the be-boppin' and scattin' on the Jesus thing, and various other crudenesses and unladylike utterances that are the meat and potatoes of Damn Kids, Get Off My Lawn. I'm real sorry you had to see all this ... but I yam what I yam. Let's go, um, have some coffee and donuts and forget this ever happened, 'k? :-)
Time stopped. My eyes bugged out. My mouth dropped open and I heard myself in slo-mo going "oohhhhhhh ... nooooooooooooooooo ... "
It was a horrific thirty or so seconds before I realized she didn't mean THIS blog. Thank the disco-dancing christ, she doesn't know this one exists -- not that she's not, you know, hip and all -- but she's from Ohio, get me? I kind of try to shield her from the excesses of my personality -- she's a nice lady, she doesn't need this kind of agita.
So, J-dawg, if you ever do read this blog, despite my best efforts at prevention -- I apologize in advance for the Olympic Freestyle Cursing, the references to refreshments I may or may not have enjoyed in the past, the be-boppin' and scattin' on the Jesus thing, and various other crudenesses and unladylike utterances that are the meat and potatoes of Damn Kids, Get Off My Lawn. I'm real sorry you had to see all this ... but I yam what I yam. Let's go, um, have some coffee and donuts and forget this ever happened, 'k? :-)
Labels: Jesus H. Christ in a sidecar drinking tequila, the horror ... the horror
posted by Gleemonex at 1:01 PM
5 Comments:
SCARY! Which blog did she mean? My heart paused when I read this post, btw...
I remember when I found out that my mom read my blog. I had serious thoughts about shutting the whole thing down. I mean, the f-bomb, while not rampant, was extant and without remorse. Still, she never said a word and I gather that she still reads it just to keep up with me, even though we live about 10 miles apart.
We're adults for cryin' out loud.
Panda, it was the blog about the baby -- stuff only a grandparent would love. ;-) Thanks the small gods, eh?
Guinness: I hear ya, I do! But oh, am I glad to have dodged the bullet for now ... heh.
I would be tried for murder in a court of law because my m-in-law would die on the spot if she read mine. My dad (relatively hip and laid back) has already given me a "you're not representing yourself well on the internet," so god knows what my in-laws would think. I just got cold shivers.
Uh-oh, bgirl -- the "not representing yourself well on the Internet[s]" thing -- that's gonna go in your Permanent Record. heh.
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