Jun 30, 2008

The Last Time I Talked To My Mother: The Kill Me or Eat Me edition.

I'm still at my mom's house this week. Which is both exciting and terrifying.

Several of my Tennessee friends have called to ask if we'll be back home for the Fourth of July parties that they are thinking about having. And I sadly have to say, "No. We'll be here. Eating some concoction my mom made that doesn't have a name while watching re-runs of Frasier, where we will then turn in around 9:30. But y'all have fun!"


So I am assuming there will be no Fourth of July parties thrown in the state of Tennessee since we can't be back for them. And let's be honest, what's a party without me?

But tonight, I want you to take a walk with me. Down a little thing I like to call, Memory Lane.

No, not Mammory Lane. Memory Lane.

Chances are you have been sitting around this past weekend, sipping your lemonade under your ceiling fan, fanning yourself with a newspaper, and wondering, "Just what exactly is Melissa and her momma's relationship like behind closed doors."

See? I knew it.

Well, I'm here to tell ya.

So as Sophia from the Emmy award winning and always topical Golden Girls would say...

Picture it. Spring Hill, Tennessee. 2007....

I have just stepped out of the shower and now begin the first of my 12-step hygienic process. Applying Bio-Silk. Which makes my hair both shiny, manageable and tangle free.

It's gone. I look everywhere. It's gone.

I wrap myself in a towel. A small, cheap, hand towel. And stomp - only partially wrapped - down the hall.

I bang on "her" door. (Note: This is actually the guest-bedroom door. But she likes to call it "her" door and "her" room. As in, "Melissa, shut my door" or "Melissa, why don't you ever dust my room?")

No answer.

I bang again.

No answer. (Note: I can hear her.)

I bang, "MOM!"

"WHAT IS IT, Melissa?"

"WHERE is my Bio-silk?"

"I don't have your Bio-silk."


"Uh, what makes you think I have it?"

"Because in the last two days you have borrowed my brush, my flat-iron and my toothpaste."

"I brought them all back to your bathroom....(under her breath) which you never clean and looks like a pig-sty."

"MOM! I CAN HEAR YOU! Now GIVE ME my Bio-silk."

"I don't have your stupid Bio-silk. MY hair doesn't need it."

"Would you open the door so I can come in there and look?"

Her door swings open. She is not happy.
She looks at me....slowly....up and down.....me and my little-bitty hand towel....
She asks...
"What is wrong with you?"

"I want my Bio-silk."

"I am not talking about your stupid Bio-silk, which I don't even know what that is. I am talking about you wrapping yourself in a towel and marching through this house like an idiot. I did not raise you to act like this."

"Like WHAT?"

"LIke an exhabitionist."

"Mom, I am not an exha..."

"Yes, you are. Yes, you are. You would join the circus if I'd let you."

"Look, if you don't have it..."

"Well, I DON'T have it. And if I DID have it. I wouldn't give it to you."


"Cuz the way you're actin'. Look at you! I can't tell if your about to KILL ME or EAT ME!"

She SLAMS her door.

I STOMP back to my room.

I later find the Bio-silk which had been sitting on my counter top...the whole time.



Deanna said...

I'm hiding under my desk at work giggling. Just what I needed for my Monday morning! And isn't bio-silk wonderful?!

WheresMyAngels said...

Hmmmmmmmmm, you sound like a thirteen year old! lol Too funny!

KimmyJ said...

Laughing - oh, I need to pee!

Lula! said...

Again and again I'll say it...
Nonie and Mamaw Pinky were separated at BIRTH.

Y'all are hilarious--please take this act on the road.

My Mama reads my blog--tampons, minty fresh tooties and all--and constanly berates me: "LEIGH ANNE, I did NOT raise you to write about such things!" Well, of course she didn't...I write whatever God lays on my heart. 'Cause I'm all tender and stuff.

ugagirl30 said...

Ugh...the thought of staying under the same roof with my mother makes me cringe. Don't get me wrong...I love my mother--but can only take very small doses. She doesn't talk to me about how clean or dirty my house is, just gives way to many examples of how she was the perfect mother and we are pitiful. She always knows the best way to handle any situation with any kid--spank them. That is always her advice--just spank them more. I truly think if I didn't object, she would still spank me. I'm getting a headache just talking about it!

Trish said...

Awe you're too sweet:) of course we can be friends!

Loving the part where you're mom doesn't know if you're going to kill her or eat her:)

bigjohnsgirl said...

Hey Melissa! Thanks for the comment! I love to know that there are actually people reading my blog and that I'm not just writing it for my enjoyment only. You remind me so much of me it's crazy! This situation perfectly describes my mom and I to a T!! Love your blog. I read it every day!

Anonymous said...

That is hilarious! It sounds slightly familiar....like my mom and I would talk....except for the kill me or eat me part.
Basically just the part where I accuse her of taking something and then I'm wrong is about the only part that sounds familiar. :)

Sissy said...

My mom is so not like that, except for the cleaning part. My mom has lived in my house for a week and she has vacuumed three times. I am sorry that we have a Husky dog and that she sheds blankets, but come on, mom, really? Three times?

One- said...

Are you serious! Forget all of the reality shows that are on TV, I want to watch y'all in action. On another note, I love Bio-Silk too, and I would act like an exhibitionist to get it back too! Lol!

Hot Tub Lizzy said...

Mom's.... I so swear not to be like mine when my kids are grown but I'm guessing genetics is against me.

Katie Says said...

Too funny!

I love me some Biosilk! works wonders with my wavy hair.

Joanne said...

oh goodness me, where have you been all my blogging life? I found you through who knows where.

Just loved so many of your posts. Your dry sarcastic wit just tears me up.

Oh Lord, why does overexagerrated sarcasm have to be so dang funny?

I will be back!

Blessings, Joanne