Monday, June 14, 2004
The problem with explaining things to my Ma |12:31 AM| I could be honest with my mother, that I haven't called her back because I was too sick, too depressed, and too busy to really deal with spending time with the family. But this answer, though honest, would not end the conversation. Instead, it would prolong it, into a tortuous ordeal of Salem-esque questioning.
"Why are you depressed?"
"Are you going to kill yourself?
"Are you gay?"
"Did you break up with Portal?"
"Did you kill someone?"
"Are you sure you aren't gay?"
I'm not exaggerating, these are actual past questions. Along with "Are you drinking too much" and "Are you gambling too much". The questions sound far funnier when I quote them, because I'm in the horrid habit of imitating my mother in only the most shrill tone of voice.
Now, I love my mother. And she loves me, and these questions are her way of showing she cares. However, due to this kind of "attention" I now have nearly unlimited patience for nagging.
Portal was amazed that I never, ever complained or accused her of being naggy. She expected it to come up at some point, since even in her own opinion she could be a little insistent. Seeing as I had a graduate degree in being pestered, she was simply outgunned. In the rock throwing fight that is "gentle reminders", my mom is an atomic weapon.
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Sunday, May 11, 2003
The chicken caper |4:06 PM| You know how I said I'd edit this to include pictures? Well I left the damn pictures in PortalStar's dorm room because I'm an idiot.
I got attacked by a chicken, kind of.
I was at a petting zoo at a hotel and a rooster got loose
I followed it, a security guard, and a desk guy followed it with me. We tried to corner it a couple times, but despite having a brain the size of a pencil eraser, it was adept at getting away.
At one point we had it cornered under a desk. We had the little bastard.
And so Mr. Chicken sees:
A security guard, hardened by several brutal rate disputes, desperate for combat.
A front desk jockey, fully misanthropic, praying for the death of customers or himself.
...and some jack ass in a polo shirt and khakis saying "Here rooster rooster rooster!"
He charged me, the least threatening, from under the desk. He bonked me in the forehead on his way by, and try to slip around me in the confusion.
I had my hands on him as he scuttled by, but I didn't want to break his widdle wings.
His cute, widdle chicken wings.
So I let go, and he ran past me.
That's when it gets even weirder.
This little kid had been watching from a distance. In his hand he was carrying a small leaf, delicately pinched between two fingers. When the rooster made a break for it, he walks right up to it. Instead of running, the bird freezes in place.
The kid walks up, taps the rooster with the leaf, and says "I gotchoo wooster! I gotchooo now!"
At this point, said rooster just stands there for the guard to pick him up.
I have no idea why the 2 volt brain of the rooster decided that the tiny waddling kid was a safe thing, or why it decided to hang around after being tapped gently with a leaf. However, he was soon back behind bars.
Here is a cute picture of a rabbit that I was holding.
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The problem with explaining things to my Ma |12:31 AM| I could be honest with my mother, that I haven't called her back because I was too sick, too depressed, and too busy to really deal with spending time with the family. But this answer, though honest, would not end the conversation. Instead, it would prolong it, into a tortuous ordeal of Salem-esque questioning.
"Why are you depressed?"
"Are you going to kill yourself?
"Are you gay?"
"Did you break up with Portal?"
"Did you kill someone?"
"Are you sure you aren't gay?"
I'm not exaggerating, these are actual past questions. Along with "Are you drinking too much" and "Are you gambling too much". The questions sound far funnier when I quote them, because I'm in the horrid habit of imitating my mother in only the most shrill tone of voice.
Now, I love my mother. And she loves me, and these questions are her way of showing she cares. However, due to this kind of "attention" I now have nearly unlimited patience for nagging.
Portal was amazed that I never, ever complained or accused her of being naggy. She expected it to come up at some point, since even in her own opinion she could be a little insistent. Seeing as I had a graduate degree in being pestered, she was simply outgunned. In the rock throwing fight that is "gentle reminders", my mom is an atomic weapon.
(0) comments
Sunday, May 11, 2003
The chicken caper |4:06 PM| You know how I said I'd edit this to include pictures? Well I left the damn pictures in PortalStar's dorm room because I'm an idiot.
I got attacked by a chicken, kind of.
I was at a petting zoo at a hotel and a rooster got loose
I followed it, a security guard, and a desk guy followed it with me. We tried to corner it a couple times, but despite having a brain the size of a pencil eraser, it was adept at getting away.
At one point we had it cornered under a desk. We had the little bastard.
And so Mr. Chicken sees:
A security guard, hardened by several brutal rate disputes, desperate for combat.
A front desk jockey, fully misanthropic, praying for the death of customers or himself.
...and some jack ass in a polo shirt and khakis saying "Here rooster rooster rooster!"
He charged me, the least threatening, from under the desk. He bonked me in the forehead on his way by, and try to slip around me in the confusion.
I had my hands on him as he scuttled by, but I didn't want to break his widdle wings.
His cute, widdle chicken wings.
So I let go, and he ran past me.
That's when it gets even weirder.
This little kid had been watching from a distance. In his hand he was carrying a small leaf, delicately pinched between two fingers. When the rooster made a break for it, he walks right up to it. Instead of running, the bird freezes in place.
The kid walks up, taps the rooster with the leaf, and says "I gotchoo wooster! I gotchooo now!"
At this point, said rooster just stands there for the guard to pick him up.
I have no idea why the 2 volt brain of the rooster decided that the tiny waddling kid was a safe thing, or why it decided to hang around after being tapped gently with a leaf. However, he was soon back behind bars.
Here is a cute picture of a rabbit that I was holding.
Labels: Broken Links, Mariko, Mom, Pictures
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