Friday, November 19, 2010

No Holds Barred.

How AIM Saved My Life.
I can be serious when I need to be serious.

I can be mean when I need to be mean. (Though I will always respect a stranger's privacy...)
I can let my guard down when I have to.
And pull out all the stops. I'm fucking hilarious, peoples. A laugh machine.
No holds barred, kid.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Fun with Mom

Mom's funny. I love it when she visits me until I can't stand it. But no one needs to know how she drives me crazy. Better you think of her as the silliest person I know.

(note: All this goes down in Japanese.)

1. Mom and I are walking around town on a Saturday in a Hassid neighborhood. Man in Hassid vestiment walks past us on sidewalk. Mom says, "Happy Sabbath!" and cocks her head to the side with a smile and the footstep equivalent of a peace sign: viz. Lollipop Kids from The Wizard of Oz. Man says "why thank you!" Mom explains to me that's what you say to Jews on Saturday. Thanks, Mom.

2. We walk past a billboard for The Tourist (starring Johnny Depp and Angelina MoJolie). Mom says, "I want to touch his facial hair." Stunned, I ask, "what... do you... mean...?" Mom replies, "you don't think he's handsome?" My jaw drops and I look at Mom. She doesn't realize she's just come up with the best euphemism for getting physical since "knocking boots." I eventually tell Mom "yeah, I'd totally touch his facial hair..."

3. Mom's sleeping. Sunlight breaks through a gap in my curtains and would pierce Mom's face but she's laid a sock over her eyes. Viz. Me as baseball umpire: Safe!

4. Mom gets a caramel apple from a Halloween party. Slices small pieces of it to eat throughout her stay, careful to distribute the caramel evenly. By Day 5 of her stay with me the apple looks pretty much done. I throw it away. Mom asks me where the apple is and I tell her. Then, in the angriest I've heard from her since I joy-rode Dad's car in the 10th grade, she whines, "Whaaat?! WhyyYYyyyyYyyy?" (If you know the Japanese or Korean language you'll totally know the tone I am trying to evoke here.) Ten minutes later she's still complaining about how I threw away perfectly good caramel apple. Sorry, Mom.