grassy ass...
my mother is a southern baptist to her core.
she wishes she was a southern belle.
she likes big hair, lots of make up, dresses, and pearls.
she never drinks, and sits wide eyed when we sip on a cold beer on a hot day.
she questions every tv show i watch and asks me why i "watch that trash"
she regrets sitting on the porch and watching my dad and brother and i share cigars on my brothers 18th birthday. as if watching it somehow condoned it, and took a jewel out of her heavenly crown.
when i belch at the dinner table she rolls her eyes, but i often here her bragging about my winning a burping contest at youth group when i was 10th grade. who wouldn't be proud of their daughter for that? it is the only thing i ever won past the age of 5. it is my one accomplishment in this present life
growing up we thought the f word was fart.
i am 25, twenty five, the same age my mother was when she conceived me, and if i say fart she gasps and quickly tells me "sis, you shouldn't say that, that is a nasty word."
i once heard my mom call someone a bitch, and i dropped dead on the spot. really, she had to call 9-1-1 and they had to resuscitate me. okay, maybe i didn't drop dead per say... but i did break 2 ribs and my right femur falling down the stairs in pure shock. the ambulance arrived and found me in a heap at the bottom of the basement stares, mumbling and bumbling nonsense, in pure shock. okay, maybe that didn't happen either, but seriously, i must have stood at the top of the stairs wide eyed, drool sliding out of my open mouth for at least an hour.
my mother never says a bad word about anyone.
she refers to everyone she meets as "my friend..."
everyone i meet says to me, "you are so lucky to have carol as a mom, she is just one of the sweetest people i have ever known."
she never spends a dime on herself, she is always spending her money on things for other people.
grocery shopping with her is infuriating she stops and says hello to everyone, asks them how they are doing, smiles and waves and freshens her lip gloss.
she loves all things victorian. flowers and gold and pearls and deep wood.
she is polite.
she sings like an angel.
she hugs everything in sight.
she is a pastor's wife.
she prays like a warrior and loves with no abandon.
and if she knew what i was about to tell you she would faint on the spot and turn red and perhaps never speak to me again.
her southern baptist, southern belle, pastors wife self would stare wide eyed at the computer screen and wonder why i wanted to ruin her.
but i just can't hide it anymore.
i must let it out.
my mother has a secret.
a deep, dark, secret that everyone must know about...
she loves butts
jokes about butts, greeting cards with pictures of butts, an old man sagging pants, reminiscent of a plumber. if there is a card with a butt on the font she will pick it up, and she will laugh. if there is a plumber anywhere in her line of sight, she will find it, and she will laugh. if she overhears a joke about a butt, she will laugh until she cries, and maybe pee a little. and then she will laugh some more, until the laugh is just a faint wheeze, and her face is unrecognizable through tears and redness and distorted facial expressions.
if she, by chance, is reading my blog today, which she rarely does, she will be laughing so hard right now she is actually failing to do her job properly.
there, just now, someone else had to answer the phone.
and she is laughing so hard now, that she just might forgive me, for letting her secret loose to the world.
muchas grassy-ass.
and now the tears are starting to fall...
and mom, i really did you a favor, now when you see that funny card, you can buy it, and you can give it to your friend, because now they know. you may not smoke or drink, you may not curse and watch trashy tv, you may not lie or gossip, you may smile and always have something nice to say. but now everyone knows... you love butt jokes, and you can go on and live your life now, with no secrets, nothing to hide. now the world knows, and they can, and will laugh with you.
or at least the 20 people who read this blog know... but still... be free... be funky butt lovin... be you.
she wishes she was a southern belle.
she likes big hair, lots of make up, dresses, and pearls.
she never drinks, and sits wide eyed when we sip on a cold beer on a hot day.
she questions every tv show i watch and asks me why i "watch that trash"
she regrets sitting on the porch and watching my dad and brother and i share cigars on my brothers 18th birthday. as if watching it somehow condoned it, and took a jewel out of her heavenly crown.
when i belch at the dinner table she rolls her eyes, but i often here her bragging about my winning a burping contest at youth group when i was 10th grade. who wouldn't be proud of their daughter for that? it is the only thing i ever won past the age of 5. it is my one accomplishment in this present life
growing up we thought the f word was fart.
i am 25, twenty five, the same age my mother was when she conceived me, and if i say fart she gasps and quickly tells me "sis, you shouldn't say that, that is a nasty word."
i once heard my mom call someone a bitch, and i dropped dead on the spot. really, she had to call 9-1-1 and they had to resuscitate me. okay, maybe i didn't drop dead per say... but i did break 2 ribs and my right femur falling down the stairs in pure shock. the ambulance arrived and found me in a heap at the bottom of the basement stares, mumbling and bumbling nonsense, in pure shock. okay, maybe that didn't happen either, but seriously, i must have stood at the top of the stairs wide eyed, drool sliding out of my open mouth for at least an hour.
my mother never says a bad word about anyone.
she refers to everyone she meets as "my friend..."
everyone i meet says to me, "you are so lucky to have carol as a mom, she is just one of the sweetest people i have ever known."
she never spends a dime on herself, she is always spending her money on things for other people.
grocery shopping with her is infuriating she stops and says hello to everyone, asks them how they are doing, smiles and waves and freshens her lip gloss.
she loves all things victorian. flowers and gold and pearls and deep wood.
she is polite.
she sings like an angel.
she hugs everything in sight.
she is a pastor's wife.
she prays like a warrior and loves with no abandon.
and if she knew what i was about to tell you she would faint on the spot and turn red and perhaps never speak to me again.
her southern baptist, southern belle, pastors wife self would stare wide eyed at the computer screen and wonder why i wanted to ruin her.
but i just can't hide it anymore.
i must let it out.
my mother has a secret.
a deep, dark, secret that everyone must know about...
she loves butts
jokes about butts, greeting cards with pictures of butts, an old man sagging pants, reminiscent of a plumber. if there is a card with a butt on the font she will pick it up, and she will laugh. if there is a plumber anywhere in her line of sight, she will find it, and she will laugh. if she overhears a joke about a butt, she will laugh until she cries, and maybe pee a little. and then she will laugh some more, until the laugh is just a faint wheeze, and her face is unrecognizable through tears and redness and distorted facial expressions.
if she, by chance, is reading my blog today, which she rarely does, she will be laughing so hard right now she is actually failing to do her job properly.
there, just now, someone else had to answer the phone.
and she is laughing so hard now, that she just might forgive me, for letting her secret loose to the world.
muchas grassy-ass.
and now the tears are starting to fall...
and mom, i really did you a favor, now when you see that funny card, you can buy it, and you can give it to your friend, because now they know. you may not smoke or drink, you may not curse and watch trashy tv, you may not lie or gossip, you may smile and always have something nice to say. but now everyone knows... you love butt jokes, and you can go on and live your life now, with no secrets, nothing to hide. now the world knows, and they can, and will laugh with you.
or at least the 20 people who read this blog know... but still... be free... be funky butt lovin... be you.
i have not laughed this hard in a very long time. i already love you, now i love your mom too!!!!!
ReplyDelete"Did you just say 'funky butt-lovin?'"
ReplyDeleteI. am. in. tears!!! This is hilarious!!! funky-butt-lovin!!!
ReplyDeleteOh my! Your mom is sweet and hilarious!!!
ReplyDeleteThis is so funny! I love it. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteNow I love your mom almost as much as my own and I don't know either one of you!
ReplyDeleteliberating! ...and hilarious!
ReplyDeleteI would love to meet your mother at a card shop. What fun she would be. Your writing of your mother is really amazing. Not only does the pride in your mom come out, but so does the love!!! Thanks for sharing her with us!
ReplyDelete"funky butt lovin" from rookie of the year, the doctor says it when they take his cast off and he pops him in the nose.
ReplyDeletetoo bad you all really don't know my mother...
thank you for all your comments and encouragement
For the record, my father-in-law was a mason and once put wet cement in my brother-in-law's crack.
ReplyDeleteFor realz.
Butt ox...oh, gosh...I can't b r e a t h e!!!! Hahahahahaha!
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness. I am crackin' up over here! Wherever did you find those...uh...illustrations with which to punctuate your story? Too funny!
ReplyDeleteYou are a delightful writer and I always enjoy stopping in on your blog!
Elaine
I really like when people are expressing their opinion and thought. So I like the way you are writing
ReplyDeleteYou have really great taste on catch article titles, even when you are not interested in this topic you push to read it
ReplyDelete