You may remember my mother from coming up with such quotes as, “That man could fuck up a two car parade.” (And, well, from giving birth to me.)
She’s been having problems with her foot and went to the doctor yesterday. At lunch, we had this discussion:
Mom: It is where my heel meets my arch and —
Peter: Plantar fasciitis.
Mom: That’s it!
Peter: (Long, slow exhale.) Your NBA career is FUCKED.
Over the weekend, she had told me that her DVR screwed up and she didn’t record her beloved “Two and a Half Men” last week. I informed her that I could probably download it for her online. I launched into a long and detailed explanation of bittorrents, as she nodded along. All she heard was, “watch on dvd in your living room” and her favourite, “no commercials.” (My mother gets all rage-y when forced to sit through commercials. Apparently that is where I get my patience.)
Mom: Yes. You do that.
So, I did. I got it for her and gave her the DVD. She was very impressed. So much so that:
Mom: I want you to track down the new Richard Gere movie and the chick flick that Deb and the girls saw in Halifax*.
(*THE WOMEN, if you were wondering.)
I searched and couldn’t find either movie for her. So, yesterday over lunch:
Peter: Yeah, I couldn’t find those movies. Apparently you can only find movies that someone might actually WANT to see. And not sucky crapfests that only people like you and Deb would watch.
Mom: (To my Dad) *mumble* *mumble* saucy little bastard *mumble.
Peter: What was that?
She turned to me, with a very serious expression and…
Flipped me off.
I was shocked. SHOCKED.
Except, you know, not at all.