It’s no secret that my mom reads this, made evident by the phone calls I get from her after writing a post including terms such as “hand job” and “chode” where she says things like, “Your post was interesting today . . .” or “What’s a chode?” (I urge everyone, if you can ever get a parent to ask you that question, do it. It’s beyond hilarious, plus it takes your relationship to that next level when you can share the word chode.)
Also no secret is that my mom supports everything I do. I could tell her I’ve chosen to become homeless, and she would hem and haw at first but eventually she would relent and take me shopping for everything I would need. When I told her I wanted to play hockey, she became the head of the Mothers Guild for the team. When I told her I wanted to major in English and eventually go to law school, she sent me books with notes saying “Thought you would like this.” When I decided I wasn’t going to attend law school, and loathed the idea of going back to school at all, she would fax articles cut from the newspaper to me at work about low interest student loans for graduate school and exciting educational opportunities, which isn’t so much support in the traditional sense but I knew she was thinking of me.
And then I started this blog, and she has read every post, commented on a few and even made her friends read a few, although she’s not that current on linking specific posts in emails, so while she may only want to send this cute little post to her friend, she sends them the basic link to my blog meaning that a few days later, when they click on it, this is the post at the top of the page.
Mom: “No, no, scroll down past the pictures of the teenage girls.”
Nothing, though, can come close to this t-shirt I received in the mail yesterday. Custom made from some website (how she found it, I’ll never know), it’s the epitome of the love a mother may have for her son. What this shirt says to me is “If I ever need money, or shelter, or bone marrow, my mother will be there for me.”
Unfortunately it also says “Blah.” I’m sure you couldn’t customize the phrase “check out my blog,” but still it seems pretty boring, doesn’t it? Not funny, not fierce, not even insulting or a thinly veiled reference to underground drug culture. Just “check out my blog.” So while you can bet that sometime in the near future I will find a way to get behind a Channel 4 newscaster while wearing this shirt, here are a few alternate slogans, just for future reference.