Please Listen To Your Mother
When I was growing up the words that came out of my mothers mouth were gospel! Especially when it came to etiquette. As I am sure most of you can agree, your mother, for the most part was the driving factor behind how you behave to this day. What you say, how you treat others, and even how you dress in some ways, were likely influenced by your mother.
The teachings that I remember the most were around the kitchen table. Join me for a ride down memory lane for a second, as I am sure most will be able to relate.
It’s Sunday evening around 5:30pm. We just sit down to dinner and I hear the following…”Did you wash your hands?”, “Get your elbows off the table”, “Ask someone to pass you the butter, don’t just reach for it”, “Stop flicking mashed potatoes at your sister”, “Quit belching!”, “You are the only one laughing, get that goddamn asparagus out of your nose!”
These things and many others were a part of every day life for most of us. Your mother even told you how to dress. She was the one who told you that the pink shirt didn’t go with the red jeans. She was the one that told you it isn’t cool to wear two different shoes. And of course were did you get the “Don’t wear white after labour day”? Your mom.
I also remember walking down the street and through the mall with my mother, and having her tell me “Talk softer, people can hear you”. Or she would tell me “If you have to fart go down the isle were no one can hear you”. And one of my fondest memories was her telling me “No matter what, if you have to dig the undies out of your crack, I don’t care if you have to drive to Egypt and go to the middle of the desert, don’t let anyone see you do it”.
Which is why we are at this point!
I was standing in line waiting to use the bank machine just yesterday. In front of me was a rather beefy woman with shoulder length brown hair, pulled back with one of those fuzzy elasticky thingys. I am quite sure that she heard me come in which makes this incident all that more repulsive. As I stood behind her I couldn’t help but notice her red and white plaid seersucker shorts were riding a little. (On a side note who the hell buys seersucker anything?)
I, being the perfect gentleman that I am, decided to laugh a little out loud. I couldn’t help it! Just as I finished my little chuckle I noticed a little movement in front of me. I was sure that she was turning to leave the machine. Oh how wrong I was! Her left foot sat firmly planted on the ground as her right foot rose slightly to the toe. Her right knee bent a little, then I saw it! Her right arm came around like a bolt of lightning and headed right for the crack. She began to pull and dig as if she were on the anchor end of a tug of war. Her hand went missing for what seemed like an hour and finally she was done. Wedgie removed.
That was all I could handle. I burst out laughing. She turned and looked at me with disgust as she left the bank lobby. I don’t understand why she was mad, she was the one just digging in her ass.
I hope like hell that she grew up as an orphan, because that would be the only excuse for doing that in public.
I need to call and thank my Mom!
