The beginnings of a tradition: Part 1

So, I've been meaning to say a few words about da momma to me and my two crude, yet well-adjusted brothers.
First off, she amazing. She birthed us and raised us, and that in and of itself isn't much, but when you factor into the equation first, that she was usually preggers while trying to deal with a two year old (i.e. we were all born just a hair less than two years apart) and second, that ALL three of us could have been considered at the very least mildly ADD-ic, her struggle for just under 27 years in getting us all happy and ready to leave the roost is nothing short of a miracle. I'm not gonna rag on my dad here too much, but from what I've heard from her over the years, he was sometimes a help in the sitch, but mostly an anxiety infuser. I remember once whilst sitting down to a family meal in Junior High, that there was an all out brawl because the mashed potatoes were cold. OH mighty MAN who toils at the BLOCKS all day, heaven forbid your mashed potatoes are cold, never mind that all of your children have their homework (nearly) done, are sat down at the table and there is a buffet of other nutritional and time-consuming food on the table. DON'T EEEEEVEN GET ME STAAAAAARTED. CHEESE AND RICE. 

So MAM, yeah she's the shit, and my brothers and I know it. SO, to begin a tradition, my brothers and I decided that it would be nice to give her a little three-way call.(all possible through the iPhone, thanks Beezie) The plan was to call her at 12:00 her time, just seconds into Mother's Day. YEAH, we might be waking her up, but CAN it here, we're trying to show that we're on top of our mother's day shiz. There are little things that come into play here that make it all the more special. Thing #1: I live in a different time zone, and thus had to wake up a little before 1 my time to call her at 12 her time. Thing #2: most of us were in different states. Me in SC, Beezie in STL, MO,  Billy Bad Ass in Cola, MO, and mother hen, HELEN in Lawton, OK. Thing #3 This was the first time that the three of us, Beezie, Billy and I, had attempted a three-way call since the night our grandmother, Neenie, passed away. She is another mother in our great line of upbringers who inspired and instilled in us the things that made us who we are today. A moment of silence for the N-Bird.



We love you Neeners :D

SO, those three things made for a little bit of a stir! WELL, that and, Billy was already 10 deep  at 11 o'clock when Beezie reminded him that he needed to pick up a very important call in an hour. So Beezie got us two on the line, and then called Mom. She didn't pick up on the first call, but we decided that it would be appropriate to call her until she answered. She picked up on the second call, and Beezie said "Happy Mothers Day Mom!" awww her little voice wet with sleep and happiness gave a warm thank you to Beezie. Once she had finished, I said, "Happy Mother's Day Mom!" hehehe, she let out a little gasp of surprise and joy, and thanked me too for wishing her a happy mother's day. Then, once she finished, Billy chimed a brusk and deep, "Happy Mother's Day Mom!" and she said, "Aww ALL my babies are on the phone!!!"
That was so friggen special to me that it had been a special surprise to her that my eyeballs could have popped outta my head. *pop* *pop* two eyeballs, just rollin around on the floor.

What then followed is something that I began to take notes on. Why you ask? Because I didn't have a GD taperecorder, that's why. That stuff is priceless. I don't know if you've read any other posts on my blog, but it would befit you to mosey on over to my christmas post to get a better idea of the way my family converses. It's amazing. We, as a collective total, have more wit, spunk, humor, quips, quotes, jabs, and jokes than any one professional comedian out there. I knew that I wanted to blog about it because I knew it was gonna be fuckin FUNNY.

There is a part 1 attached to the title of this post for a reason, and that's because I didn't think that I could do full justice to both the setup and the conversation in one post. I only have enough snark to make it through so many words a day, and I am not a girl of few words when it comes to telling stories. I'm just like my mother. So, then, as a tease for the next post, I'll throw a few bones/quotes to you guys from the convo.

In reference to an air mattress tucked away in a college house closet:
Helen: Just pull it out and see if it's still usable.
Beezie: I am not braving that spider-infested hell hole to pull out a mattress that leaks.
Helen: Well, pull it out and let the spiders run away.
Beezie: You. are outta your mind.

Before we even get on the phone with my mom, all three of us are on the line
Beezie: Wait! I gotta plug my phone in.
Billy: What!? You called US! (in drunken deep timber cowboy slur)
Beezie: Gotta be ready.

Ok, admittedly, that second one will only be really funny to those reading who've heard Billy talk. It's situational really, because it was a little touch and go there as to whether Billy was sober enough to converse pollitely.


Kitty out.

oh sweet memories...

So, just some FYI, from here on out, new boi will be referred to as "le mien" not too hard on the fingers, short enough to chop to Mien if need be, and so cutthroat and to the point in depicting my grabbing wonder as to how I get him all to myself. MMK movin along here.

Le Mien and I were chit chatting at lunch, as we often do the latter days of the week when I work all day, and he works all night, and we don't get to converse as much as we would like, and the topic of memories came up. Well, I brought it up. Mainly because the amount of information I know about Le Mien could fit into a large salad bowl (if we were engraving facts on dominoes, that is). OH, don't get me wrong, I've been entertained by stories of past girlfriends and parents, sisters and Penn State "twins" but very little actual ooey-gooey-lemon-square-sunshine that really makes a person who they are in present time when you meet them. But! I know you're thinking... "well that's the part that you hear about over time, in the course of a few years, little by little through everyday anecdotes" well you can just put your anecdotes where the sun don't shine, because it's like I got JUST the answer to a very long quadratic equation. Well, yeah, that might do me some good if I'm trying to hit an old refrigerator, (can I hit it or not!? #twhs) but I'm a SCIENCE major. I need to know the HOW and WHAT, the gears behind the machine, the cause to the effect!

yeah, so, memories. He told me a few, and they were pretty funny, one had a sled, one had a messy bedroom and a nagging mother and a girl... and that really made a dent in the pre-me stories about him :) I'd rather not divulge the full top-secrecy of the memories, not only because I respect his pseudo-privacy, but also because to anyone else, they might not mean a darn thing... pretty much opposite of what they mean to me

BUT,  I actually had brought up the subject for two reasons, not just the knowing about him more, but also to share one of my own. Unfortunately for him, I forgot then the one that I had intended to tell all along. That story involves a booger. Yes, a booger. HA  the memory/story is this. I was in 4th grade. How I know this is by mentally placing the room and the tennies I was wearing. The room was in a counselors office in the second elementary school that I attended. I transferred there for reasons I don't remember, but there were only grades 1-4 there. I remembered that indirectly because I know that the middle school I attended next ran grades 5-7. And the tennies, well, they were obviously a thing of the early ninetys no sooner, no later. So I was taking this test, I'm pretty sure it was some kind of intelligence test to see if I qualified for a smart person program they had there called Quest. Dumb fuckers didn't let me in. Wonder why? Anywho, I was in the middle of this pencil and paper test and I got bored. Ever happened to you? happened to me.(Ron White) I happened to be looking down at my tennies, wondering if my ankles looked good (yup, that was one of the thoughts that crossed my mind during a TEST. I know now why I had such terrible trouble on the MCATS, but would make a wonderful trauma surgeon) when I noticed something on side of my right shoe. I thought to myself, how could something fashion it's little way on the outside, side of my right heel? my tennies weren't dirty, I hadn't sunk into some filth that was marring the pristine whiteness between the item and where my tennie touched the ground. That, at least, would have given some clue as to how that particular item had traversed it's way from someone else's NOSE onto the out sole of my SHOE. Then, as all 4th graders would do, I reached down to investigate. Yes, I touched it. Yes, I then brought it closer to my face. No, I did not put it in my mouth, as I am so fond of doing with things. ( yes, I did type all that so I could then type, you nasty reader I am not, in fact, making an allusion to dicks ) I, as a matter of principle it seems, put objects into my mouth without a wisp of a thought as to what I might contract. ew, I know, lets move on. So as I squished the increasingly icky object between my fingers it dawned on me what I was toying with. And I was grossed out. Not a lot does this. I'm a rather gross girl, if you hadn't noticed two lines up, I do gross things. I think that's why this memory sticks out in my mind.

It has just NOW literally, as I'm writing, come to my attention that ALL of my pre-middle school memories are GROSS. Seriously. The thought crossed my mind just now to tell you THE MOST GROSS story of my life, (I will NOT ever be divulging that little gem here) and it happens to occur before middle school as well. There is also the time where I vomited in front of my entire extended maternal family AT THE DINNER TABLE, and IT TOO was before middle school. ee gad my mind is a virtual icky trap. Why couldn't I remember nice butterfly barbie bumblebee hums in the middle of summer stuff?

So, in summation, my knowledge of Le Mien's life, if engraved on dominoes, has increased to fill a family-sized dinner salad bowl, and I have come to the conclusion  waaaay too late that my memory only sees what's stuck on the HEPA filter of my mind.

sic KITTY OUT.

word: swagger so bright, I don't even need light -lil wayne (of course, because I'm a lil wayne typa chicka)

I'm so hot you prolly catch a tan around this muthafucka.


haha, no not really, but if you stick around long enough, you'll prolly catch a mean tongue slashing.
Cause that's how I roll.
You know how else I roll?
With words, lots of them. Me and words, yes, you could say we are "tight." We used to be tighter but then I all up and got a life, stopped reading books so much, and lost about 1/10 of my total intelligent vocabulary. It's a shame, I know, but with all that free time on my hands I learned the valuable skill of putting eyeliner on, and I wouldn't trade that shiz fer nothin'. BUT more close to the topic at hand;  I err on the side of more rather than less.

When it comes to words, my lil blag will attest that I go on and on. I use run on sentences as if my sixth grade teacher had done nothing but let us play checkers the whole year long. Bitch, my sentences so long and verbose with such inflated adjective clauses that any no class ho get lost in the middle. I like to explain myself, I like to be heard, I enjoy easing someone's mind with multiple reiterations of the same basic idea. I like to see how many different ways I can come at things.

But the most important reason that err on the word vomit side rather than the zipped lips side is so that, if everything is right, the listener will have a thourough and comprehensive understanding of MY understanding on the situation. Becuase ( I learned in conflict resolution class) it is the SPEAKERS responsibility to make sure that the message is conveyed in the proper form with the proper connotation. On the flip side, if something is wrong my listener will have a greater chance of picking up on the fact that I really don't have their point clear if I say what I'm thinking in more than one way. i.e. I reiterate, i.e. I repeat, i.e. I summarize, i.e. I verbally outline.
Point. made.moooove along
 I told you that story to tell you that I'll tell you another story sometime later about this story. The second story is WAAY better than this one, and/but the names and ages of all involved have been changed to protect identities
Now I'm just being obnoxious, and I'll stop, because nobody likes obnoxious girls.