Friday, May 15, 2009

sorry your mom has hamthrax eye

Unfortunely those words do sum up day 1 of family invasion. In fact, these exact words were uttered to me as I cuddled Mr. P before retiring to catch up on some blogs and down 2 or 13 shots of peppermint schnapps before bed.

My mom was to fly to Atlanta then take a shuttle from the airport to our town. My mom is less than good with directions and handling her shit. So when I hadn't heard from her after I knew her plane had landed, I started to worry. I worried that she decided not to get on the plane and instead partake in a jug or two of wine. Why? Why, would I think that might happen? Suffice it to say, it wouldn't be the first time. I go to the agreed upon pick up spot and low and behold she was there. Apparently something weird is going on with her cell phone. Who knows what. One of the contacts in it is "wllJ1wll". That is the best she could do trying to enter a phone number for her WORK.

But she is there, has not ditched the high school kid, and she is actually NOT wearing sweat pants that are 3 sizes too big. (Later, she proudly tells me that she was in fact wearing Gloria Vanderbilt jeans which she bought for $1 at the DAV). Before I can say one word to her she tells me, "I hurt my eye." So I ask her what happened. Her story consists of a hundred jakillion teensy tinsy brain numbing details, but I will spare you. As she will, NO DOUBT, regale my sister with the whole tale in a few days, after she tells ME the story 86 times (and don't forget, I was here for most of the action) before lunch tomorrow, she ended up accidentally using contact cleanser (which contains hydrogen peroxide) in lieu of saline solution after removing her contacts to tweeze her eyebrows. yeah, I don't know.

Her eye is all weepy, her face is swollen, and she looks like crap. At this point she thinks her contact is stuck in her eye socket behind her eyeball, so I say, let's run by the doctor and let them look. She declines. So we go home, hang out with the high school kid (whose very last day of high school was today), play a bit of Scrabble, and she is going downhill. I finally got up, and called the walk-in clinic place to check if they "do eyes". I don't know why I thought they would exclude eyes from their practice, maybe eyes are too unique, but the receptionist chick assures me, "mmm. yeah. we can do eyes."

I tell my mom we are going to the walk-in clinic and she refuses because, "those are for stabbings." At this point I am losing my mind, I am texting my sister and she offers the sound advice, "Well, then stab her. Then take her." So, I did.

In my mind. It was pretty awesome.

Oh, I digress. We get her in and I have to fill out all her forms because apparently the eye that is hurt is her "reading eye". I have to ask her for her social security number and before answering, she looks all around, scrunches down and whispers it to me. Damn it mom, who the fuck wants your identity? seriously. There are TWO people in the waiting room, and neither give a rats ass about your social. Finally we get her seen, get her meds, feed her, and now thank the sweet Mother Mary she is asleep. Day 1 is in the books. only 7 more days to go. holy hell.


Marmite Breath said...

You're my favourite blogger. I die laughing every time I read you.


Shelley said...

"Well, then stab her." Is it wrong that I am dying of laughter over this?

You and your sister have developed some amazing survival skills in order to deal with your mother and I applaud you both. I hope the visit goes well, but I suspect there will be more incidents like this...stay sane and please keep blogging about them (really, this would make a great movie)!

DAVs said...


I laughed out loud at this, but GUFFAWED at the part about who the fuck wants your identity.

HP, I'm sending you bloggie super powers through the interweb to tough this visit out. Maybe I'll have to overnight you some cakeballs as a reward.

tara said...

Note to self...
Never argue with HP or her sister for fear of getting shanked.

Got it.

Hope it doesn't rain all week so you can at least put her outdoors to run off some of the crazy now and then.

Fatinah said...

laughed out loud and choked on my tim's!

I look forward to the next 7 days. I realize of course, this statement will likely get me blocked from your blog, but... there it is. So funny!

Fatinah said...

oh, ya, and you're likely quite right about your theory of WW. I will be re-calculating promptly! Smart AND funny!

tash said...

I roared at this post!

Anonymous said...

I am laughing very hard, too, especially at the line "Well, then stab her." I feel a little guilty, though, because I'm sure it was an extremely frustrating first day. Your Mom sounds pretty cuckoo. Thank god your sister's only a text away.

creative kerfuffle said...

holy hell. i like the part about stabbing her : ) in your mind of course. i hope this next week flies by for your. srsly. i think i'd die if my mom came to stay w/ me for a week.

Astarte said...

HA! Stab her!!!! HA!

So, was her contact really stuck behind her eye, or was it just her brain cell knocking around in there?

Bulge to Bump said...

Our mothers would get along great! Mine called me today to tell me that she got a pair of work out pants at the thrift store for free because the pockets had zippers and one was she asked if she could get a discount...yep discount on a $1.50 pair of thrift store pants. She was so proud.

Swistle said...

"Well, then, stab her" makes me love you AND your sister.

So WAS the contact around the back of her eye? Because EEEUUUWWW.

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