Date My Parental Unit

So, for some unknown, insane reason…actually..because the remote control was too far away, i sat through two horrifically bad shows today.

One, was “Made,” which is a recipe for teenage angst all by itself.

Next, i watched “Date My Mom.”

Again, we have already discussed the nonexistant reasons for me watching this, so really, i have no excuses.

i did, however, begin to wonder what the hell my mother would say on a show like that…for one, you cant get my mother in a pair of jeans. im pretty sure she owns a pair..but she refuses to wear them. and so, when the mom and daughter are giggling together about how “hot” they are, and how mom needs to tell boy that daughter has great boobs, my brain function shuts down.

the idea of my mother discussing my boobs with ME is a situation that would call for a lot of tequila on her part.

seriously, my mother can barely bring herself to use the word “butt.”

so i have this mental image of my mother, perching on the floor, looking horrified as this guy asks about my interests. she would probably say art. maybe reading. possibly sci-fi, only maybe not, because that might scare him away.

hee. my poor mom. we have some similarities. i swear!