Course when they came in through the front door, I lit out the back, like my ass was on fire.) I know, sometimes I don't make any sense at all. Who would have thunk it.
Anyway, I guess my tail-feathers are a bit ruffled today. One of the "butt" girls took off with my son the other night. I know, if I was his dad, I would be saying, "Hey, way to go boy!" and patting him on the back, maybe even buy him a cigar or some such, but I don't like the girl.
Call me the evil mother-in-law to be. It wouldn't be the first time. Its just that I know she hangs around with the cracker on the bike, which leads me to believe maybe she's a cracker too. If you get my drift. I know, I know, my son is a grown ass man. He can make his own decisions without Mom's input. But, this is how it went down.
They are sitting on my front porch, again. It's 10:30 at night, and I decided to limp outside and play hide and seek with the little rugrats. I told them I would count to 3000, so they could go hide, and then I would come and look for them. I got to 5, and they said they were "READY!" I walk behind the house, and instead of hiding they are running around like monkeys, wanting me to chase them. I said I was too old, and that when I shined the flashlight beam on them, they were tagged. We did this three times, and then they decided to play something else. That right
there is proof there is a God.
My son keeps making remarks that insinuate maybe I should go inside. Like, "Mama, why don't you go in the house?" You don't have to hit me in the head with a ball peen hammer. I can take a hint. So, I come in and my neighbor friend comes and gives me updates, on the goings on on the porch. At about 1:00, I decide to lay down, and I hear loud music coming from my front yard.
Ok, I have done my time with the loud music, and lets see how much the neighbors like that! But, now that I've reached old fartdom, I have more respect for our neighbors. So, I go out and find out that the Butt girl has pulled her horse trailer truck up close enough to my house where she can turn her radio up sky high and listen to the golden tones of "Smoking in the Boys Room". She is 42 fucking years old. I ask her to please turn her truck radio down. They say, "Oh, come on its not that loud!" She says, "I didn't do it. My son did that."
I'm thinking, please God, don't let me turn into my mother right now. Please! She blamed it on her son. Like a 5 year old. I was cool. I didn't say anything.
Came back in, got comfortable, and five minutes later, the music is cranked up again. Ok, this time I am pissed. I haven't had to do this since the boys were 14 or so. So, I go out and ask again, "Would you please turn the music down?"
Then my son, my darling, says, "So, I guess you don't want me to have any fun?" He was saved because my arm will only reach so far. I wanted to snatch him bald-headed, but I just looked at all of them, and said, "This is bull-shit!" So, having laid everyone out with that parting shot, I went back in.
Then EJ strolls in and says he's going down the street and will be back tomorrow or sometime, so I won't be bothered by the music or anything. I said fine.
Part of me says I am being totally unreasonable, another part says I am being a mom, and another part says, get in your car, and go to New Mexico and look for Area 51. I might have relatives there, I'm not sure.
Now he's off to get his friend who is recovering in his wheel chair, and tonight he'll do his Forest Gump impersonation and they'll all call him Lt. Dan. He does sound exactly like Forest though. It's amazing.
I think it would help if I still was a drinking woman. Made a big pitcher of strawberry marguerites, or something. But, alas, I do not.