I'm working hard to set up the pages of the new blog, and tonight, About Me has been published. I'll save you the trouble of clicking on the tab above by posting it here, too. It goes a little something like this...
This is a picture of my mom’s semi-toothy grin:
To be fair, the picture was taken after she’d lost a false tooth (we like to call them "falsies") chewing too vigorously on a pizza crust on Christmas Eve a couple of years ago, when all falsie-fixing doctors were on vacation. She had to wait a full week before she could get in to get a falsie replacement, but walking around looking like that didn’t bother her. She went shopping with my older sister a few days after the pizza crust incident, and my sister said it was awful.
“Holy shit, Shay, she kept looking around at everyone, smiling like she’d forgotten there was a huge, gaping hole in the middle of her face. At one point I had to smack her and tell her that I didn’t care if she was happy, but she’d better stop damn acting like it and smiling so much. I tell you what, it felt like a scene from Pretty Woman. The salesgirls would come over to offer us assistance and then Mom would smile at them. One of them actually pointed to a Dollar General across the street and said, ‘I think you ladies belong over there.’”
My poor, poor sister. Never mind Mom; she doesn’t know any better.
Apparently Mom didn’t learn any valuable lessons from the pizza crust incident, because a few months later, the exact same thing happened. But instead of a picture text of her teeth from my older sister, I received this one from Mom:
You will love this story. I was eating pizza (like last time) and my denture (top) just broke right in two. Since insurance doesn’t cover that, I need a new set but they are expensive. So I went to the hardware store, but the guy wouldn’t sell me superglue when I told him what it was for because of the chemicals in the glue. I told him I couldn’t go anywhere without teeth!
I don’t know what had changed since the last time this had happened; she obviously hadn’t minded going everywhere without her teeth the first time. And it couldn’t be the fact that she’d gotten a new boyfriend that she was trying to impress; the one Anna Nicole had just snagged was as old as my grandmother, and I’d be pretty surprised if any of his teeth were from his original set.
In any case, her misfortune and the fact that she so willingly shared it with me made me the belle of the Facebook ball that night. I had just posted some boring mommy status update and was feeling guilty for bothering my friends with it. Now, I got to go back and post this:
Damn, that last status update was boring. Let me redeem myself by telling you that my mom texted tonight to tell me that the hardware store wouldn’t let her buy superglue to fix her falsies because they weren’t sure what the chemicals in it would do to her face. TRUE STORY
But the story wouldn’t be complete without the text I received the next night from her. This one I could hardly get through without crying from laughing so hard:
Well, now I have slight diarrhea and stomach pains. Do u think it’s the soft foods I’ve been eating or the chemicals in the superglue? Lol (although not really funny!)
God bless her. God bless her.
Why am I devoting an entire “About Me” section of my blog to my mother? Well, because my mother is the epitome of trashy, and folks, I’m pretty sure it’s her fault I am the way I am. But although I’d love to blame it all on her, I am the girl who once got kicked out of a wedding reception for running-manning it to the buffet to gorge on chicken wings. That’s not what they were mad about, though: It was because I didn’t know the happy couple. I had just danced in off the street after about 7 beers. Damn Billy Joel concerts with best friends who would never dream of stopping you from doing shit like that because they want the story to hold over your head for the rest of your life.
But in my defense—seriously, unknown happy couple, chicken wings? Who the hell do you think you are, Britney Spears? And besides, you should know that those little bastards are like beacon lights for trashies like me.
Anyhoo, what I’m trying to say is that yes, some of the trashy is my fault, but mostly it’s my mom’s. So blame her.
Welcome to my blog. I promise you’re going to have fun.