Sunday, September 6, 2009

Don't ever stop and smell the roses


I fell into a rose bush yesterday. Not one of my proudest moments. Well, if you consider the fact that this was actually a big bush and that I was the one able to nurture it to that amazing size while all the other plants in my garden have died a miserable death, then I guess it could be considered a proud day.

But I feel irritated today. Maybe the thorns from the rose bush gave off some toxic chemical in my bloodstream or maybe it's just my mother and her latest Cupid-attempt. I have a strong suspicion it might be the latter.

While I was busy licking cleaning my wounds, my parents came over to visit, followed an hour or so later by a few of my friends. It's like Sunday at the Salvation Army at my house, but I suppose the neigbors are thinking more along the lines of Alcoholics Not So Anonymous thanks to the friends being a little rowdy at times.

Upon seeing the cuts on my legs and arms everyone insisted on knowing what had happened. I tried to keep my explanation as simple as possible because my mom would use anything as an excuse to get me back home again. Or lecture me about the other big "problem" in my life. Both a bit embarrassing in front of the friends who are firm believers in blackmailing.

"This would never have happened if there was a man around to take care of you," Mom starts her free therapy session.

Like a man would cure me from my clumsiness. Maybe that's the cure for Aids?

"And you're not getting any younger, LT."

She never fails to disappoint with her predictability.

"Wine gets better with age," I try to save some of my reputation and dignity.

"So does mould on bread," a loyal friend comes to my rescue. What have I done to deserve these kind, considerate, caring people?

I could see this was boring the daylight out of my dad who got up to check on the damage done to the rose bush. I longed to follow him, but Mom's next words forced me back to my chair.

"The cork goes rotten after a while, love, and then the wine is pretty darn useless, but I spoke to Chris's mom about the situation and she says you don't have enough options. You should meet new people and not just hang around so much with your regular friends. They're not marriage material anyway," and she gets up to pour us some juice under loud protest.

It doesn't help arguing with my mother. I will only end up with a throbbing headache to match the pain in my legs. It wasn't a pleasant prospect on a Sunday night.

"So what did Starsky and Hutch decide?" Dad asks when he returned from his inspection.

"If you're referring to my friend and I," Mom was not amused, "we thought of introducing LT to ten men in ten weeks."

She stood back with folded arms looking like she had just found the answer to saggy boobs without the pain of plastic surgery.

"That's a brilliant idea, Mrs. Truth !" my other trusty friend exclaimed. "That will really spice up her sex-"

At this point I got up at a speed Usain Bolt could only dream of achieving to slap the big mouth on his back before he could complete that potentially fatal sentence. Surely we all have some things we don't want our parents to find out until we're about ... eh ... seventy?


I'm really irritated. I'm as irritated as a cat being bathed. Or a porcupine being poked. Or the three minutes on a Friday before you leave for your long and well deserved weekend only to be stopped by the boss carrying piles of files which only has one destination: your desk, with a note written neatly on top reading complete before Monday. Now you know how irritated I am.

Apart from itching and burning legs, I now have to meet ten random men in an attempt to keep me from falling into flowers. And there's no use arguing with Mother. Once she's set her mind on something it's over, almost like an alcoholic taking a drink after being sober for a year. Brandy has no brakes. Especially when that "brandy" is being supported by a bunch of twenty somethings who find it highly amusing watching me in this uncomfortable and painful situation.

Anybody want to swap places with me right now? I'll even clean toilets for a living.

16 comments:

mo.stoneskin said...

So what you are really saying is that you and Usain Bolt are going head-to-head very soon? I'll be there. My money is on you.

Gorilla Bananas said...

Your mother want grandchildren and nothing will stop her. I suggest you allow a man to impregnate you or start pretending to be lesbian.

King of New York Hacks said...

ummmmm...what Gorilla Bananas said ...LOL

Tennyson ee Hemingway said...

sometimes parents are the worst. i ignored mine for most of my life and look where it got me. freedom.

ladytruth said...

mo: you will not be disappointed!

GB: or maybe I should just become a nun.

KONYH: yes, Gorilla Bananas is a trendsetter in the comment-world, right?! Welcome to my blog; drinks are always on the house :)

Tennyson: but their cooking is so good! Especially since we all don't even live a km from each other. If I yell really loud, they come running. After reading your comment, "Free Nelson Mandela" and "Freedom '90" from George Michael keep going through my mind simultaneously. Crazy combination.

Mega8815 said...

WOW. Are all SA parents the same? Okay, not mine. Definitely. My mother says I'm only allowed to get married and have kids when she's 50. She's 43 this year. Shit.

But my grandmother is SO MUCH like this!! HAHA!!! And yeah, you also can't stop my grandmother. 'Haar woord is wet.'

Organic Meatbag said...

Ouch! Prickly rosey thorns...owwwwww...hope you are healing up!

erin said...

You can come stay with us for a while. Different gene pool.

I remember how relieved my mom was when I told her I was leaving my ex husband. She gave me a bunch of 'I told you so's' and so on and so forth.

She wasn't pleased when Jeremiah and I (my high school/college sweetheart/disaster area) met unexpectedly on the street two days after leaving my ex.
She'd be even more discouraged if she knew we ran into each other, had dinner, went back to his place and screwed a half dozen times. Oh dear.

otherworldlyone said...

First of all, am I the ONLY one seeing the awesome blog potential in this?? 10 guys in 10 weeks...just THINK of the hilarity.

I'd do it just to have the stories. ;)

Hope you're healing fast...

Eric said...

Whoa, 10 men in 10 days? Oh, weeks, maybe that is better.
Flower bushes are dangerous, I think.

Madame DeFarge said...

Itching and burning legs could be the least of your worries with these 10 men in 10 weeks.

Kristin said...

It's like pulling off a bandaid. Just get it over with so she can't talk about it anymore. Ah ha

ladytruth said...

Mega: oh your time will come, sista! In 7 years you think, but parents change the rules without notifying you first. Believe me.

Organic M: it's been really hot here lately, but I've only been wearing tracksuit pants. People look at me funny now.

erin: oh dear, indeed! Bet he made you forget all about he nasty husband, right?!And thanks for the offer! I'll be over in a plane flight :)

OWO: I'm having my first date tonight. I'm sure it will be hilarious as my mother only told me his name. I think I have to take back up ;)

Eric: I would've emigrated if it were to be 10 men in 10 days. And yes, stay away from flowers: they take away your freedom.

Madame D: I try to stay positive for the sake of sanity :)

Kristin: I hate bandaids. Why can't we just use bandages?! ;)

otherworldlyone said...

Ooooh I can't wait to hear about this!

One Sassy Girl said...

The cork goes rotten?? What part of us is the cork?!! I can only imagine. I'm stealing that and saying it ALL the time.

ladytruth said...

OWO: I just knew you were going to say that!

OSG: steal away and have fun with it ;)