1. Little Filthy and I went to see my parents yesterday. No matter how old you are, you’re still your mom’s kid. We were at the library and I walked out of the bathroom to find my mother looking over her glasses at me. I looked down at my pants and the wet handprints I’d left there instead of drying my hands in the air dryer. You know, like an adult. She didn’t say a word – just went back to reading but I’m pretty sure I saw her sigh.
2. My mother and I were discussing my father’s family. My father has a sister who used to… how shall I say this? She was very…messy and had a hard time throwing things away. This was long before there was a weekly, hour long show to explain the delicate nature of hoarders – when you could still safely refer to such people as the trainwreck that occurs when messy collides with lazy.
I said, “Remember how messy and full her place was? That was before we knew there was a name for it.”
My mother nodded and said solemnly, “White trash.”
I burst out laughing and said, “I meant hoarders.”
She said, “What’s the difference?”
3. My father finished work and we decided that we wanted steak for dinner. I said to my mother, “We decided on what to have for dinner!” My mom said, “Fish?”
Oh that’s right. See, my parents are Catholic. I’m Catholic, too – that is, if you’re allowed to say that when what you really mean, “I had Catholicism once but it cleared up.”
I said, “Ummm… No. We want steak.”
My mother wrinkled her nose a little. Mind you, we’d had lunch together and she ate some beef. But see, that was a mistake. Now we weren’t just going to accidentally eat some meat – we were going to go to a steakhouse and there was no getting around the deliberate intention to eat meat on Friday during lent.
We got to the restaurant and they had a lot of grilled seafood options. I said, “Check it out, Mom! They have lots of seafood.”
She said, “But… we’re at a steakhouse!”
She had a steak.
Just goes to show.
Steak > Jesus.
(Kidding…kidding……….sort of.)