My mom visited and we did not go to the movies.

Earlier this summer I created a long list of fun things to write about and promised myself I’d do a little something every day because eventually I’d be inspired. See how that never happened because I haven’t posted since the spring. But now CDSquee has gone and called me out. “Kmtastic, isn’t it about time for you to post about scrapbooking while blowing a guy or something?” So I come in shame for my lack of creativity and input and I offer you this post- my attempt at a movie review.

Now I realize that Squee1313 has pumped up my city girl rep and to her credit I live a pretty glamorous life. I go to the finest of pizza places with the craftiest of craft beers. When I’m not eating from a food truck in a food truck park, I order authentic Mexican food from authentic Mexicans. Heck, I went to the bowling alley last Sunday and if that ain’t high fa-loo-tin, I don’t know what is. Livin’ the high life, friends. So I hope that you’ll forgive me for not posting earlier, as I have been occupied with important and fabulous activities such as sleeping late and going to bed early. As I type, I’m watching a PBS show in which a hostess with distinctly British teeth tell me fabulous things about Ireland, and that’s practically traveling!

I have one of those  jobs in which I have the summer off from work and for the first half of the summer I spent my time very wisely, attending some really great professional development workshops in which I got to make stuff and mingle with others, talk about art on an adult level (which I gotta tell you, was awesome!) and decided that I will probably not be able to take my K-5 students to the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the local art museum because there’s just a little too much bush on display. I don’t mean her eyebrows, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.

So tell me, little Trayshawn, how do you think Frida is expressing her feelings about her painful and horrific miscarriage?

After my professional betterment, I spent some time up in the hometown with friends and fam. (This is when I learned Tanga!/Romper!) When I visit home my mother likes to make sure she gets to spend time with me so everyday she calls me and inquisition goes something like this: “What are you doing for lunch would you like to have lunch with me where do you want to go for lunch what are you doing after lunch are you going to come over and see me this week you should come over and have dinner with me and play with Diego* what are you doing tomorrow for lunch when am i going to get to see you I know I saw you yesterday but I don’t get to see you that much do you want to cook out on the grill tomorrow night…”. *Diego is my mom’s new puppy. He’s afraid of people because some sadistic asshole beat the shit out of him when he was like 3 months old. My mom wants me to get to know the puppy, probably so when the house burns down and she screams “Save yourself!” while trampling me to get the pup out of the door to fresh air, I’ll feel solace in the fact that she’s saving “family” while I face my impending death due to smoke inhalation and falling beams.


Oh thank you sir for saving my puppy!!! Oh no, there was no one else in the house… well just my only daughter, but I’m sure she’s fine. Puppy!!!

Ordinarily I give in to Mom-guilt but this particular trip I didn’t mind saying no because I knew that the very next weekend my mom would be visiting me in the Big City. Now, let me set this straight before I go any further. I love my mom to pieces. She still surprises me in her humor and tolerance for my bad behavior. My mother does not drink, and rarely cusses, so if she calls you a bitch you are actually a really horrible person and you should rethink your life. She is very active in her church and gets crazy with her buddies at Christian rock concerts, so I figure she’s pretty hip. She calls everyone funny or silly “a hoot”. That being said, she drives me up a friggin  wall. (I say friggin because even blogging about my mom makes me conscious of my language.) I’ve lived in Big City for almost 12 years and every time I visit Hometown she cries. She cried when I went off to college which seems normal until you realize that I went to college in Hometown and was literally a 15 minute ride door-to-dorm from her house. If there was a medical procedure in which they could reverse birth me back into her uterus where she could keep me close and safe, I think she’d do it. It would be really cramped in there though, since I’d have to share space with the dog.

The weekend my mom visited was one of the hottest weekends on record in Big City and maybe even the entire area. The weatherman said it was about 104 but I know he’s a liar because my car read 111 and when I peeled my legs off of my chic leatherette seats, my skin stretched from my leg to the seat like mozzarella cheese in that Domino’s commercial where they’re trying to convince you they no longer “undercheese” their cheesy breadsticks.

So my outdoor plans like visiting the zoo or botanical gardens, the tour through the historic cemetery, playing tennis,  were all rendered useless. We were left with two acceptable choices, the pool or the movies. During the day we chose the pool. My big plan was that once it cooled down at night, we could go to the drive-in and see a double feature.

Big City has an awesome old school drive in and you can bring in grills and food and drinks and lawnchairs and have yourself a good ol’ time. There was a double feature playing- Magic Mike and Ted. I thought as a single woman who hasn’t seen much action lately, my mom might appreciate the fine talent on display in Magic Mike. And come on, how bad could a movie about a talking teddy bear be?

Just some wholesome family fun.

Boy howdy I dodged a bullet when my mom said that 97 degrees at 9pm was still too hot to go see a movie.

I’m here to tell you, friends, do NOT take your teetotalling, non cussing, Christian rock loving mom to see either of these movies. Take her to Brave or Madagascar 3 or whatever soulless rom-com that Katherine Hiegel is starring in that week. Save Ted and Magic Mike for your nasty friends. I’m glad I did.
I’m not as comprehensive or eloquent in my book or movie reviews as Squee1313 and much of what I am about to say is not enlightening or original. You will like these movies if you are or if you believe any of the following. I fit into most of these categories. My mom, not so many.
  • You think dirty mouthed teddy bears smoking pot are funny.
  • You like Family Guy.
  • You think stuffed animals having sex with humans is funny.
  • You think stuffed animals doing coke is funny.
  • You have a stuffed animal at home that you fully believe comes to life when no one is home.
  • You like making fun of the state of Georgia.
  • You think Mark Whalburg’s Boston accent is cute.
  • Bro-mance is cute.
  • You want to see a rom-com that you can drag your MisterMister to because there’s a foul mouthed talking bear.

    But where’s the puppy?

  • You like naked men with Adonis abs.
  • You want any excuse to see more of Alcide’s body.
  • You like the thought of Channing Tatum grinding on the floor and you want to pretend you are the floor.
  • You haven’t had sex in a long time.
  •  You had sex in the car outside of the theater.
  • You once had a summer job in which you worked with hot guys, partied, got high, and got laid and you want to relive the glory days.
  • You want to see all of your squealing girlfriends that you haven’t seen since Sex And the City 2 came out. And now you all get the excuse to be Samanthas!
  • Did I mention Channing Tatum grinding on the floor? (On a side note I was trying to describe the movie to Boyfriend who was clearly uninterested and I got so flustered I couldn’t even say Channing Tatum. If there was a gold medal for eye rolling he would have won right then and there.)

I’m so glad that I did not see either of these movies with my mom. Oh, I don’t think she would have gotten all up in arms and huffed out of the theater or anything. I think she would have had a chuckle or two at the talking bear and I think she would have enjoyed the stage show of Channing and his entourage, but I would have sat, stiff and uncomfortable as  a CGI bear simulated fellatio on a Twix bar and dry humped a co-worker in the stock room. I would have shifted and stared straight ahead as a stripper pumped his penis is preparation for his performance or a naked girl puts on her clothes while trying to wake up another naked girl from the previous night’s threesome. In short, I’m glad I didn’t take my mom because it would have ruined my good time. I have never been accused of being selfless.

Boyfriend and I dropped my mom off at the airport and as we pulled away from the curb  quickly so as not to be mistaken for car-bombing terrorists and not to see her cry, and we both erupted in fits of cussing because the pressure had been built for three days and we were going to explode, like when you have to fart on a first date. My mom left, still virginal to the dirty display of cinema that I would eventually watch and enjoy later in the week. Next time she comes, I’ll just be safe and choose whatever Pixar flick is out that week.


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