Of elections, conventions, and republicans
Early tomorrow morning we’re off to Salt Lake City, Utah to attend the 6th annual XanGo Convention. Some of you may recall that I went last year and it was an absolute blast—and also like last year, that invitation to stalk me down still stands.
This year we’re driving down instead of flying. This is what my mother had to say about that:
Me: “You know, tonight is election night and tomorrow morning we’re going to be driving through a Republican state to get to an even more Republican state…”
My mother: “Oh no! If Obama wins, there will be violence on the road!”
And she was totally serious. Aren’t Canadians cute?
Meanwhile, I’m curious: Who do you think will win the 2008 U.S. Presidential election tonight, and why?
Armageddon!
My father may be one of the few people on this earth to find the whole worldwide recession slash stock market crash combination amusing. Every day, without fail, he will turn on the TV when he has a free moment just to see how bad things have gotten since he last checked, and when the dow drops fifty million points and another bank goes bankrupt, he yells out the news to whomever is in the house at the time, following it up with, “the armageddon! it’s the armageddon!”
He is having way too much fun with this.
History repeats itself
I cooked a fabulous vegetarian lasagna the other night. The family loved it and I was thrilled. Still giddy from the success of my latest experimental dish, I was idly cleaning the kitchen when my mother walks in and drops the scariest. comment. ever.
“You know, lasagna was always my signature dish.”
“Oh my god, DON’T SAY THAT.”
#1 most terrifying thing about getting older?
WHEN YOU REALIZE YOU’RE TURNING INTO YOUR MOTHER.
KFC in Looeyville
Over the breakfast table
Louisville, Kentucky
Mom, reading the city guide: (Surprised) “Hey, Kentucky Fried Chicken started here!”
For the past week I’ve been in Kentucky—Louisville, Kentucky to be exact. If you think visitors mispronounce your city’s name upon arrival, imagine what happens in a place where even the locals all pronounce it differently. Looval, Loouhval, Looeyville, Looville, and for those who haven’t yet learned that the ’s’ is generally regarded as silent, Louisville.
… And I thought I had a name easily screwed up.
Things my mother says, and why it’s all my fault
My mother is an amazing person. She’s smart, talented, highly independent, very sociable, driven, hardworking and very funny when she wants to be, among many other things. This coming from her daughter is saying a lot, because c’mon—I have to deal with her when she’s worked three night shifts in a row and literally hasn’t slept since. If anyone has seen the good, bad and the sheer awful and can still think know she’s amazing, it’s me. Plus, she’s my mother – Of course she’s going to be amazing. People can’t live within the same house as me and not be transformed by my sheer awesomeness!
She’s all that and more, so naturally it totally baffles me (or used to, anyway) how she can be so smart and yet say the stupidest things ever—at the same time. I say ‘used to’ because I now firmly believe that her moments of stupidity are a direct result of me, as a fetus, snacking on her then-brilliant brain.
Taken from a radio interview with Dr. Louann Brizendine, author of national bestseller “The Female Brain“… and I quote:
Q: Now, I saw you quoted in the New York Times, speaking of pregnancy, that the female brain shrinks about eight percent during pregnancy? And doesn’t return back to its normal size until about six months after delivery?
A: Yes, Debbie, that’s a surprising study that uh has found eight percent shrinkage, even after you account for any increased water weight. And scientists don’t know really why that happens, except that the female brain is doing all kinds of rewiring during that period, to get the mom ready to do maternal behavior. And also remember, the fetus is more like a parasite, and [that] it gets fed whatever it wants, and lots and lots of lipids and special fats exist inside the brain cells, and some scientists speculate that the fetus is sort of snacking on the mother’s brain.
I know that when my mother reads this, she is going to be happy. Because it’s all my fault. She will find some way to translate that into “everything that goes wrong with me is ALL. HER. FAULT!” I think her brain will erroneously translate that quote because as a fetus, I probably ate the part of her brain labeled “REASONABLE THINKING” and in turn, all the excess oxygen started flowing to the part of her brain labeled “DENIAL – IT’S STILL JUST A RIVER IN EGYPT NO MATTER YOU SAY”. I know, I’m a genius. They should make me the brain doctor.
But back to my mother. I have one “outrightly stupid things my mother says because I ate her brain cells as a baby” moment to share, and even though it’s more attributed to a lack of sleep on her part rather than a strange appetite I had as a fetus, I will still share it. It took place yesterday afternoon while my brother and I were discussing (read: betting) who we thought would die in the last Harry Potter book…
I will mention one spoiler in the following conversation below, so if you don’t want to find out anything about the latest Harry Potter book I suggest you lock yourself in a dark cave off the coast of god-knows-where and subject yourself to several years of dedicated reading (the time it takes the average person to get through 759 pages of Harry Potter) before you submerge yourself in a world where you can’t watch TV, surf the internet, read the newspaper or talk to your dog without hearing about Harry Potter.
Denzil: I can’t believe Harry doesn’t die. I WANTED HARRY TO DIE, DAMMIT.
Me: How do you know Harry doesn’t die?
Denzil: I scanned through the ending. It said something about “Harry’s children”.
Me: … Harry’s CHILDREN?!
Mom: … Harry gives birth?!
I’m sorry mom. I guess I ate the part of your brain labeled “FACT OR FICTION?” too.