Saturday, July 31, 2004
Oh god. Anytime I have to spend an entire day alone with the mom is another day full of insights into just how incredibly frustrated and nervous she is about my current (and for the unforseeable future) state of singletonness. And today, I've come to learn not that the desperate anxiety is only confined to just the PoohParentalUnits, but it is now spreading to the ExtendedPoohFamily. Take for example, the PoohMom putting forth a surprise frontal attack while I was innocently trying to read a book during the downtimes at work...
Mom: [all giggly and shit] Have you gotten any emails from boys lately?
Me: Huh?
Mom: Did you get any emails from any boys?
Me: I get emails all the time.
Mom: Any from boys?
Me: Uhh... I got a couple from some people the past few days...
Mom: Anything from people you don't know?
Me: [confused and NOT liking where this is going] An email from a boy I don't know? If I don't know them, how would they get my email address? (a perfectly valid question as the PoohMom is computer/technology dyslexic)
Mom: Someone asked for your email before.
Me: [silent "shit shit shit" remembering a PoohCousin had asked weeks ago and I had gotten nothing from her] What did you do? What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?
Mom: Nothing. Just remember to check your email.
Then later...
Me: No, seriously. What did you do?
Mom: Your Aunt has a friend. He didn't write to you?
Me: ["fuuuuuucccckkkkkk"] Noooooo.
Mom: She said he used to work for your company. Nice guy. Not that much older than you.
Me: [contemplates killing self or maybe beating crap out of Aunt/Cousin/Mom matchmaking trio] Whhhhyyyyyyyyyy!
Mom: Don't worry. Just remember to read any emails from boys you don't know.
Me: Well... I usually just delete anything from people I don't know.
Mom: NO!! Don't delete this one.
Me: Dammit. I hate you....... wait, so why hasn't this guy tried emailing me?
So two things flashed through my head in regards to that tiny snippet of convo:
1. The Aunt thinks we'll have something in common because he used to work for my company. I, on the other hand, immediately flashed to: he used to work for the company, most probably is working for another company, can I get a job? I'm hopeless, it seems.
2. Something scary to consider: a possible future something or other probably already deleted in the name of spam.
You know... having family members trying to match you up with their "friends' kids" is a bit worrisome. And I expected more from the PoohAunt. Okay, sure, whenever I visit her she's always going on about how "cute" I am (usually when she starts drinking), which ends up with me being "pretty" (when she's got a list of people to set me up with and is trying to butter me up), and really "smart" (she knows me not at all), and "sweet" (only to those I meet for the first time or truly geniunely like, except that's no fun at all and doesn't last long). So obviously, since she knows me NOT AT ALL, I can't trust her AT ALL. Ugh. I don't trust people who like to butter me up. They're disturbing.
Thank god for the PoohMom, the sweet, endearing, cutie she is. God bless her overaffectionate heart and the convo that took place while stuck in traffic with her after work:
Mom: Stop staying up so late every night. Get some more sleep or else you'll look like that permanently. (what makes me wary is she's already laughing)
Me: Like what?!
Mom: Those bags! (full-fledged giggling - yes, the PoohMom giggles, damn her)
Me: [like I wasn't already paranoid of my huge bags and circles taking over my face] Part of it's genetic, you know. I can't help it!
Mom: It's getting ugly. You don't want to be ugly for the rest of your life, do you?
Me: ACK! You're my mother! You're not supposed to say stuff like that to me!
Mom: I tell the truth because I love you.
Me: Nooooo... You're my mother. You're SUPPOSED to lie to me, dammit.
Mom: How does that help?
Me: It doesn't, but this isn't helping my self-esteem either.
Mom: Well, get some more sleep and it'll get better. You're not getting any younger, either. You know what happens after 30.
Me: Damn. That's just cold.
Hours of entertainment, I tell you. And since I love humiliating myself, I thought I'd share. Come back next week for more 'Pooh Is A Loser' convos.
|| posted by Pooh at 9:20 PM ... ||