Happy Mother's Day, Mom! And I'm sorry about the title of my last post.
Apparently Mom didn't like "Snakes on a Plane".
My parents are retired English teachers, and they actually read my blog. I know. I don't understand it either.
I come from a family of big readers and grammar savants; in fact, I'm the only person in my immediate family without a graduate degree. Because really, you don't need a Masters to excel in WiseAssery.
Still, I like that my parents read the blog, even if they do give me crap about some of the content. They don't believe anyone should be censored, even though I know they secretly hope some day I will start to curb my rancid tongue and maybe talk about my vagina a little less.
I really appreciate my parents' open-mindedness with regard to reading and writing, though. As far back as I can remember, my sister and I were always allowed to read whatever we wanted. As long as we were reading something, my parents didn't care if it was the back of the cereal box or an Archie comic or Jackie Collins; they just wanted us to love the process of reading as much as they did. And we both inhale books like giant piles of uncut cocaine.
When I was maybe eleven or so, my mother picked up Judy Blume's Forever at a rummage sale and tucked it away in a corner shelf of our living room library and told me that I could read it "When I was a little older and ready".
Why not just dangle a salt lick just out of reach of my giant, panting animal tongue? Of course I snuck that book into my bedroom whenever I had a chance and dog eared every page (especially the ones where the guy introduced his girlfriend to his penis, whom he named "Ralph", omg), sharing it with friends and even sneaking it into school a couple of times. I was cool as shit because I had that book. It was my golden ticket; I used it as a bargaining chip to get invited to slumber parties. Of course, after I fell asleep the popular girls took it and read it under by flashlight after dunking my hand in warm water to get me to pee my sleeping bag. But I digress.
I think by the time Mom asked me if I felt 'ready' to read the book, I'd memorized the sex parts so thoroughly I could recite them. I'm pretty sure I did.
Anyway, the point is, I have really cool parents. I don't think I tell them that enough. Thanks, mis padres, for your unconditional acceptance and understanding when it comes to the unpredictable (yet endearing!) antics of your errant elder child.
Happy Mother's Day, Mamacita. And Hey, Dad. Nice to see you too.