Okay, this isn’t fan mail fan mail; it’s just an email from my Mom. But she reads my blog and is one of the four comment-leavers that make me feel like I’m actually doing more than sending my stories into a clouded and scary abyss, so I shall share.
“I had a dream last night that made me mad during the dream but when I woke up it was hilarious!”
Can you tell we’re related? A run-on sentence used to show how excited we are to write it? That’s us.
“It was about multi-tasked-one-handed nose blowing.”
She’s referring back to this post, probably one of the most absent-minded ones I’ve ever put on this blog (but nonetheless one of the funniest, I think). A complaint about bananas turning into a rant about the fact the Jane Goodall never has to go to the zoo and, you guessed it, my resentment towards people who blow their nose with one hand. Apparently this inspired her unconscious mind.
“I was at work and stopped to blow my nose. Two-handed, of course. My boss walked by with a disgusted look on her face and told me that I blow my nose very inefficiently! She then proceeded to do whatever it was that she was doing and reached over with a Kleenex one-handed, grabbed my nose, told me to ‘blow’, I continued to work on my computer while blowing. She then looked at me and said ‘SEE!? You should be able to keep working and blow your nose at the same time if you only used one hand!’
Bitch.”
[A few things about this drawing:
1. Since my mom left out what her boss was doing in her dream, I naturally assumed that she was playing badminton.
2. I've found drawing anyone besides myself as a stick figure is really strange. I went through about a million sketches of my mom's head before I found one that didn't completely suck. This one still kind of does, but it's not the worst thing in the world.
3. More offices should probably have badminton. This picture is like a workplace paradise.]
I will give you, Mom, the coveted label of Posts I End With The Word ‘Bitch’ for that one.