Thursday, November 1, 2007



Let's start with the lies, shall we?

1. Mama: "If you eat fish, you have to eat a piece of bread with it."

Me: "Why?"

Mama: "If a fish bone gets stuck in your throat, the bread right behind it will wad up around it and go on down into your belly."

Me: "How?"

Mama: "It just does."

Me: "But...."

Mama: "Go clean your room."

2. Mama: "After you eat, you cannot go swimming for 30 minutes or you'll cramp up and die."

Me: "Why?"

Mama: "Because I said so."

Me: "If you go 29 minutes after you eat?"

Mama: "You'll die."

Me: "How do the cramps know when 30 minutes are up?"

Mama: "Go clean your room."

3. Mama: "Your best friend just died."

Me: "Mama! She was only 7."

Mama: "She went to live with Jesus."

Me: "Why?"

Mama: "Because she was so good Jesus wanted her to live with him."

Me: "Then I'm gonna be really really bad. Always."

Mama: "Jesus won't like that."

Me: "I know. That's why."

Mama: "You need to pray and ask for forgiveness."

Me: "No way."

Mama: "Go clean your room."

4. Mama: "You're taking science class in school this year."

Me: "Why?"

Mama: "Because you'll need it if you're going to become a nurse."

Me: "I'm not going to be a nurse."

Mama: "Well, you'll need it if you're going to become a teacher."

Me: "I'm not going to be a teacher."

Mama: "You'll definitely need it if you're going to become a missionary."

Me: "I'm not going to be a missionary."

Mama: "Those are your choices."

Me: "Mama, I'm going to be a writer."

Mama: "Girls become nurses or teachers or missionaries."

Me: "Pearl S. Buck was girl."

Mama: "Pearl S. Buck was a nom de plume."

Me: "No, it wasn't. (I read. I knew what a nom de plume was.) That was her real name and she was a girl."

Mama: "Your choices are nurse, teacher or missionary."

Me: "I'd rather be a dancing Catholic prostitute."

Mama (recovering from the vapors): "You're grounded for 6 months."

I was, too. 6 MONTHS. 6 MONTHS of NOTHING except church, school and piano lessons. Not one church social, not one picnic. 6 MONTHS.

So let me explain something here. You people have NO IDEA what a Catholic was to a Southern Baptist missionary.

Let me just give you an example of another real conversation between Mama and me.

Me: "Mama, why can't I play with her?"

Mama: "She's Catholic."

Me: "But, Mama...."

Mama: "She's Catholic and she's going to hell. Do you want to go to hell with her?"

Me: "No. Why is she going to hell?"

Mama: "I told you why. She's Catholic. All Catholics go to hell."

Me: "Catholic daddies?"

Mama: "Yes."

Me: "Catholic mommies?"

Mama: "Yes."

Me: "Catholic children?"

Mama: "Yes."

Me: "Catholic babies?"

Mama: "Yes."

Me: "Catholic dogs?"

Mama: "YES."

Me: "Catholic cats?"

Mama: "YES!!! If they're Catholic, they're going to hell."

Me: "Catholic hamsters?"

Mama: "Go clean your room."

OK, now the dancing part.

It was a BIG SIN to dance. BIG SIN. I cannot tell you the number of sermons I heard on the evils of dancing. It just wasn't done.

The prostitution part?

That's easy. Even though I had NO IDEA what a prostitute was, I heard countless numbers of sermons on the evils of prostitution.

Hence, the dancing Catholic prostitute thingie.

Do you know it wasn't until I was in my mid-30's that I EVER set foot inside a Catholic church (for a neighbor's funeral)? I'll have to tell you about that some time. Trust me here. It was HIFUCKINGLARIOUS!!!!

5. Mama: "If you kiss a boy, you'll get pregnant."

Me: "What's pregnant?"

Mama: "You'll have a baby."

Me: "I don't want a baby."

Mama: "Then don't kiss a boy."

Me: "Mama, I saw a woman that was going to have a baby. The baby wasn't in her mouth. The baby was in her tummy."

Mama: "Go clean your room."

6. Mama: "You need to learn to cook."

Me: "Why?"

Mama: "Because men don't like women that can't cook."

Blatant lie.

I can't cook worth a shit.


OK. So what's THE most important thing my Mama NEVER told me?

Oh, that's easy.

Mama NEVER told me when you started getting old, you'd get gray hairs *cough* down *ahem* there. You know, downstairs.

When it happens, it will shock the shit out of you.

Me (dialing phone):

Sondi (daughter): "Hello."

Me: "You sitting down?"

Sondi: "Hi, Mama!"

Me: "When you start getting old, you're gonna go gray on your twat."

Sondi: "What?????"

Me: "Yep."

Sondi: "Mama, you lie!"

Me: "Ain't lying. Hairs. Gray."

Sondi: "Mama, that's not right."

Me: "Gray."

Sondi: "Mama, that's awful!"

Me: "Bye."

Sondi: "Mama, wait!!!"

Me: *click*

I need a shot.

Grey Goose, baby!

Your turn!



© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Tina :)

No comments:

Post a Comment