Poof and I have this tendency to go out on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. It’s our default. I’ll put on nice shoes. We’ll take photos for her blog. We usually head to our favorite local coffee shop, MADCAP COFFEE…
…because it’s local, it’s delicious, and they do that thing where they make my Mocha look like a heart, and it’s nice to feel loved.
Well, since this is the rule, here is the exception:
Poof: Not in the mood.
Poof: Sure. I want a root beer float.
Poof had this thing when she was pregnant with LittlePoof where she always craved root beer floats. It was her food. My weakness when I was pregnant?
Cue to eating lunch yesterday.
Me: I’ll have the chicken tenders basket, please.
Mom: Didn’t you just get chicken tenders the other day?
Mom: And you want it again?
Me: I like chicken.
Boo: I like chicken too!
Mom: *Forceful Gaze*
Me: I’m not.
Mom: *Cynical Squinting*
Me: No, but really.
Mom: *James Marsden’s Character in X-Men*
Me: BUT FOR SERIOUS.
Mom: *Jedi Mind Trick*
Me: I HAVE ONE ALREADY.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you “Why I have added giving up Chicken Fingers to my lenten promise.”
What the fuck did we write, that helped someone find us from с днем рождения?
Which, by the way, is apparently Happy Birthday in Russian. I had to Google it.
Anyway, this has lead me to research our top twenty most searched terms. And also to think that we’re letting down a lot of men who are searching for porno and ending up on our blog. Thanks to them for not commenting.
Most of our top twenty are pretty normal. Everyone has birthdays, and knows that Poof are I are actually superheroes called Hotchtics. And 9 whole people searched for an AHL-er by the name of Francis Pare? That’s bizarre. Unless he’s googling himself, in which case he’s kind of cooler for being on an ego trip.
I was kind of disappointed because I KNOW at some point we were found by someone looking for a one legged woman who I think was trying to pee on herself. Maybe she had a jellyfish sting. We will never know.
Here are MY TOP TEN of our search results, in no particular order:
- “Happy Birthday I think he’s stuck”
- “Erotic sexual denial”
- “Funny queef sayings”
- “You can give me brain and we’ll make it a smart car”
- “You’re a douchebag barney”
- “leg cut off still texting”
- “Janik! Yay, you, doug janik. if you suck here, you’re screwed, cuz the wings think you blow too”
- “what happened to blueballsclub.org”
- “woman lifts her leg and”
- “what does freshly picked batteries mean”
On that note, I leave with you with another amusing moment involving my mother.
We are at Craig’s Cruisers, for my mom’s friend’s kid’s birthday party. We’re late, since we went to see ELMO, live in concert before hand. My mom can’t find the invitation and when we’re checking in at the desk to go to the party, she can’t remember what the birthday kid’s name is.
“Do you remember what name the party is under?” The 16 year old working boy asks my mom.
She shrugs helplessly. “It’s [Other Asian’s Name]’s kid. Do you have [Other Asian Name] down for a party?”
He shakes his head.
LeBebe is getting restless, and he sees all the shiny games. I know we have to get him away from them before he wants to touch everything in that three year old way. “It’s a party full of Asians,” I tell the guy. “A bunch of Filipinos.”
“Oh!” His eyes light up. “I’ll get someone to bring you back, I know who you’re talking about.”
Another 16 year old boy is bringing us back to the party room. On the way, I happen to glance into another room, and I recognize a couple of my mom’s friends. They see me and wave for us to come in. However, the boy is leading my mother into another room completely.
“Mom!” I jog over to her, and mention to her friend who has come to the door to say hi. My mom is all set to head into the second room, when she looks up.
“Oh, okay.” My mom thanks the confused looking boy. She heads over to her friend, waving goodbye to the other room full of confused asian people that we don’t know.
“We’re with the other asians,” I tell him. “Sorry.”
The other day, my mother comes into my room at some random hour (imagine it just being fairly late. Post midnight. I’m basically comatose.) and asks me if I can do her a favor.
My initial response?
No. No, Mother, I cannot do you any more favors, because NUMBER ONE, your daughter is comatose and will not be able to be awoken by anything other than a two year old or excessive texting. And NUMBER TWO, the last favor I did for you ended up with the following consequence:
My mother asks me this and I’m reminded of the last “family loving” post I did, where I wished the big sis, VS, a happy birthday. I also told her how amusing it would be to do a weekly post regarding our mother.
Shit My [Asian] Mother Says.
Now, as much as I enjoy how good that title rolls off the tongue, you know what would roll a whole lot better? Alliteration.
Therefore, I’m going to call this feature: Shit My [Asian] Mother Says Saturday.
YAY WEEKEND. I told you I was going to be magical. Look at that. I just made it the weekend a whole freaking day and a half early. Go ahead. Have a drink. Stay out late. Make a bad decision. Have ANOTHER drink. And then comment, because your inhibitions are down and GOD KNOWS, we all have great stories about our parents.
Today’s shit that my mother said involves TV. You know who loves TV? My mother. You know who provides great commentary to TV? My mother.
Now. For those of you who don’t know or don’t read every word, my mother is Asian. She’s from the Philippines. It’s great. She has lots of Filipino friends, who cook lots of delicious Filipino food, and they all love Charice.
So, my mom comes home from work and she is excited.
“[Filipino Coworker] told me Charice is on Glee! We have to watch it!”
“Mom,” I ask her. “Do you watch Glee?”
She shrugs. “No…but Charice is on!”
So we turn on the show. I was going to watch it anyway.
Rachel, on the show says, “Your name is Sunshine Corazon! You are from the Philippines where it is sunny all the time!”
“Yeah, except for the monsoons,” says Sunshine, also on the show.
“Oh yeah,” says my mother, to the TV. “The monsoons are bad.”
My aunt nods in agreement. “Oh yeah, the monsoons.”
I can’t even speak. I grab my phone and text VS.
L.A.: Mom is talking to the TV about how bad monsoons are.
VS: Get it on tape.
We’re watching Expedition Impossible. It’s like Survivor, but deadlier, and it’s like the only option we have since Mom got mad at Comcast and cancelled cable. We only have this channel because Dad needed to watch the Superbowl and bought an antenna.
So, in this particular episode, people are expected to build a plow, then plow a field. By hand. It is obviously a horrible thing to have to do.
Mom: “Oh, I can’t believe they’re doing this.”
L.A.: “Well, Mom, there are still farmers out there. Growing things. Plowing things.”
Mom: “Yes, but who does this with hand plows? (Scoffs) In the Philippines, my brother uses his water buffalo.”
L.A.: “WE OWN A WATER BUFFALO IN OUR FAMILY?!”
L.A.’s Aunt: “Oh no. He owns two.“
Well. Now I have to find out who I need to talk to to get a water buffalo.
AND THAT concludes this week’s episode of Shit My [Asian] Mom Says Saturday. On Thursday. I hope you all enjoyed your impromptu fake weekend.