Tag Archives: Mom

I’m A Grown Ass Woman and Other Funny Phrases

4 Jun

Last night was BLT Night at our house. I had just had a conversation with  Girl about it and she mirrored my excitement for delicious bacon sandwiches. We even bought special wavy lettuce for the occasion so imagine my surprise when Man and I arrived home to cook said tasty treats and Girl was nowhere to be found. And the door was unlocked. And the three little pisser dogs where running amok in the house. Doesn’t that spell random drug cartel kidnapping and sex slavery crime scene to you? ME TOO!

We never leave the door unlocked and I can guarantee that because I will check that the door is locked a couple of times (ok ten times) each and every time we leave the house. When we are inside the house, there are no less than three locks engaged in the job of saving us from the bad guys, whomever they are, and keeping the outside out.  Also,  we never leave Wookie, Trixie and Dexter out to free range because for whatever reason they like to cop a squat or hike  a leg on anything I happen to like. They hate me, those little bastards do, but they love love Man so I do not murder them. They only love Man  and would lazily sit on the couch and let the cartel thugs steal the Girl. Her dog would never! That dog will eat off your face and piss on your 59454573neck stump just for looking at Girl funny and Werewolf was MIA, too! I just knew that Girl had been brutally abducted, her dog shot and discarded in the alley and was on her way to Dubai to be sold as a sex slave. So I texted her. “Where are you?”. No answer. I called. I called again. I called her  boyfriend…no answer. I texted her, ” CALL ME ASAP! The door was open and the dogs are out and you’re not home for dinner!”. Silence.

I sent Man over to Boyfriend’s house to make sure they all were not murdered. It could happen, ya know! There  she was , washing her truck and cruelly ignoring my frantic calls to her phone that was in the house and impossible for her to hear. Excuses, I say! Man proceeds to inform her that she is in super hot water right now and she gets to call me to explain. She is unphased but  does tell him to let me know that she is  “a grown ass woman” and that I, the Mom who just got stood up for BLT night and is certain the door was kicked in,  needs to stop freaking out. This is right up there with last week when I reminded her to do her Accounting homework and she said, “I am 22 freaking years old, Lady!”. The nerve of kids these days. Doesn’t she know how many times I have saved her little ungrateful butt from rapey mad men, torture happy drug cartels, murderous clowns in ice cream trucks and meth head vampires? So what if it was all in my head.

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