Thursday, September 27, 2012
Mother: JB, hey, open da door, please!
Me: (seriously, what is she doing here at this hour?) Ma, stop yelling. I’m coming.
Mother: Hurry up!!
Me: (opening the door) What? What’s wrong?
Mother: (barging past me) My stomach hurt. I be up all night. I can’t go. I’m constipate. Oh my God, the pain!
Me: (yeah, and what about my pain?) You mean constipated, not constipate.
Mother: (nothing, just her evil glare)
Me: (closing the door) Ma, it’s 8:30 in the morning and I haven’t even had my coffee. What do you want me to do, give you an enema?
Mother: (yelling) No, make fun of me, JB! I can’t go and I’m in pain!!
Me: Well, I have some Metamucil. You can take that.
Mother: (angry) No, that no working! I need go buy my medicine!
Me: (annoyed) For the love of God, okay, Shitty McShitty!! I will take you to buy your medicine, but can I pleeeeeease make myself a coffee first?
Mother: (practically poking my right eye out with her finger) Why you have to swear at me?
Me: (oh, f**k me…) Because it is 8:30am, I just woke up and you want me to take you to buy laxatives -- that’s why!
Mother: (still pointing her finger) You don’t go mad at me! I need my medicine, okay?
Me: (omg, kill me now) Yes, okay, Ma. I will take you to the pharmacy, but first I need a coffee and a couple Advil.
Mother: You get dress. I make you cahfee, so you go fast.
Whatever you say, Shitty McShitty.