Supersize Mine Crankypants

Today I am the illustrious wearer of crankypants. I only buy my crankypants in generous sizing so that I can eat disgusting food all day and not be further en-crankied by a restrictive waistband or humilated by the need to undo a fly.

I won't stand for it I tell you.

I could list a billion reasons why I'm cranky but as none of them are valid reasons, I'll decline on boring you. Instead I'll just list a few hilarious things my mother does and hopefully I'll pucker up some in the process.

My Mother Votes in X-Factor Oh bless. I don't know if any contestant this year quite caught her eye the way Altian Childs did but she's a votin' for them left right and centre. In fact any that are slightly off centre she'll vote all the same. Just so that they know that off centre is ok, they should respect who they are as a person and keep on keeping on, after all great people like Howard Hughes and Janice Joplin were rather off centre themselves...perhaps it's an alliteration thing. I digress. Last time she rattled off the list of contestants she was voting for I replied with "Gee Ma, you'd save quite a lot of money if they allowed 'vote to evict'."

My Mother Starts D&Ms as I'm Walking Out The Door I now have a policy with my mother that when I stay for the night we have to discuss Deep and Meaningful topics before bed. She's not allowed to start them as I'm chowing down on poached eggs with one eye on the clock. Questions such as "So are there any boys in your life?" and "What do you think of tithing?" are incompatible with the 4 minutes I have between poached eggs and being in my car.

My Mother Asks "So Are There Any Boys In Your Life?" Nuff Said.

My Mother Does Sneaky Farts She used to blame it on the dog who, fair enough, had bowel cancer and therefore an excuse, but the dog died 13 years ago. No one thinks it's Jobi anymore, Ma. One never quite knows when an episode of Bones will be traumatically interrupted by an episode of gagging. There used to be a rule in the family, if you needed to fart you left the room, did your business and shook well to loose the scent before returning. When I remind Ma of this rule she reminds me that she's older now and can't be bothered. Lady's got swag.


My Mother Yells at Ads In my mother's house televison is set to a volume I like to call "Understanding Van Gough" because it makes one want to cut off their ears. This, sadly, would not alleivate the loudness, but the painful process of sawing off one's own ears would at least detract from the pain of Ma-Volume. During shows the maddening decibels begin to build a tolerence in you, like eating small does of Cyanide. When the ads come on though, the volume increases and Ma won't immediately hit mute. She waits until an ad she's truly sick off airs, yells "Ah, shut up!" then hits mute. Truly, it's charming once you're used to (aka conditioned to) it.

My Mother Gardens Ma is quite the green thumb, she always has been. There's nothing to make fun of here, I'm truly proud of her for what she can create in a garden, though sometimes I feel a twinge of jealousy at the loving tones she uses to gush over her succulents. I swear she's never talked about me like that.

My Mother Burps (REALLY) Loudly Her flatulence may be slient but her burps are currently being investigated for suspicious links to the southern hemisphere's recent devestating sizemic activity. Then she politely says "Excuse me." Oh yeah Ma, nice save on the lady like manners. We're all convinced you scored top grades at Finishing School. Perhaps if there were a little shock to her tone, we might be fooled, but there's no surprise. It was a planned event.

Well, the crankypants are still on, but at least I'm entertained. Here's to you Laurelle, you're one hell of a woman and I pray you never read this post.



J xxxo