Fantastic Four

FACTS ABOUT THIS PHOTO

1) I think we can all agree, the real star in this photo is Dick. And his disguise. His glasses and moustache disguise.

2) It seems as though my sister was in a Mexican gang...which would explain a lot, or.......nothing.

3) Yes, I'm wearing overalls. Skirt overalls, and I'm having the time of my life, obviously.

4) My parents have this photo framed and hanging up on the wall in their bedroom, I don't know how they sleep.

5) None of us look alike, AT ALL. Total misfits

Tappy Tres?

Mary and Dick are finally getting rid of AOL. Thank god. Last night was the first time they realized that email is free. Dick had the revelation of "AOL is a rip-off!"

So this morning Mary asked me if I could help set up a free yahoo email account for her.

"Of course, what name do you want?"

She looks at Shadow and says "Tappy Two!"

"Mom, NO!"

She looks at Shadow again, he looks back at her, lovingly, I'm sure....and she says "Tappy Three?"

No matter how funny or clever I think I am, Mary ALWAYS swoops in and blasts me outta the water with some insane, incredible comment.

She's the only person that can leave me speechless. It happens pretty much everytime I talk to her.

Tappy Too? Two? To?

My mom keeps telling me that Shadow's name is "Tappy Too."

She calls him "Tappy" for short. And then says, "His name's Tappy!"

I can't describe how annoying this is to me. Firstly, the word TAPPY is pretty disgusting, and the way my mom says it is like she's talking to a 6 year old. With down syndrome.

"Mom, why do you call him that?" (I can't even say Tappy out loud)

"Because he tap dances." she says matter of factly, as if I'm supposed to know about the dog's extra curricular activities.

After a moment of disbelief, I say, "Well, he must only tap dance for you, because I've never seen it. Does he wear a top hat? And have a cane? Because if he does that would make sense."

"What? Sometimes I call him Tapioca Pudding."

She wins.

Sorry, Kelly....I've been um, distracted lately...

So I REALLY want a Cadillac. A Caddy CTS. They're awesome and nobody has ever seen anyone younger than 45 driving one.

Plus when I used to work for Warner Bros, one of the producers let me drive her car (get it washed) and I fell in love with it. I felt like a 45 year old black guy. With a good R&B voice.

So I sent this email to my dad this am.

From: Smith, Karen
Sent: Wednesday, September 17, 2008 10:29 AM
To: Dick Smith
Subject: dad!
I want a Cadillac!


KS

Here is his response:

From: Dick Smith
Sent: Wednesday, September 17, 2008 10:32 AM
To: Smith, Karen
Subject: RE: dad!

people in hell want ice water also - Good Luck

Dick Smith


yeah, you are a Dick, Smith.

Do you think I should get a Caddy?

Tales O' the Odyssey

This morning I had to drive to the BART station with my mom because she needed the car.

I drove because we were going to be late and my mom is pretty much terrified of driving. She thinks that danger, brick walls and belligerent drivers are looming around every corner and ready to strike at every intersection.

This is literally the conversation that happened. Let me set the incredible scene:

I head down the street and make a right, my mom is holding TEA in a huge mug and its splashing around. This makes for distracted and nervous driving, because the last thing I want to do is scald the woman from whose loins I sprung.

"Karen, a police officer will pull you over if you don't have your seat belt on!"

"Mom, my seat belt is on, what the hell are u talking about?"

She looks down, relieved, "Oh. And dont swear."

Just then a cop rounds the corner and Mary gasps, "Uhhhh Ohhh!"

Nothing happened. I wasn't speeding, he wasn't after anyone, but she gasped anyway.

Mare then holds the tea away from her body, a little annoyed at my driving the speed limit.

"Mom, I'm gonna have to speed, sorry, but I can't be late. Why did you bring tea anyway, are you trying to provoke me into burning you?"

"It's lukewarm." she dryly says. (which leads me to believe that maybe she thought I would try to scold her, so she made sure the water wasn't hot)

After a few moments, Mary breaks the silence, "I wish I could take Shadow into stores with me."

Me in my head: OH MY GOD! I have to blog about this!

Silence.

I stop at a red light. It turns green, I step on the gas, creeping along behind the guy in front of me. Mary grabs the handle above her head.

"See, THIS is what I'm afraid of, tailgating. If he slams on his brakes..."

I say nothing, just trying to remember all the amazing things she's been spewing from her psyche.

Phew! It was really intense and babblingly crazy but we safely got to the Bart station....without dying or 3rd degree burns.

See No Evil, Hear No Evil?

Mary has a blind friend, Maggie. My dad hates when she comes around. He was very open with this information, citing that she, "Just sits there."

"Dad, do you find it weird to hate a blind person, I mean, they're already blind, do you feel guilty for thinking that she's boring?"

"Whoa, I never said I hated her, and no, I don't feel bad about hating a blind person."

"Awesome."

My dad gets roped into all kinds of stuff like this, and has no say about any of it, he just has to go along with my mom's every whim. Like when my mom has "prayer groups" at our house every few weeks. He just hides in his room and watches TV. But, the prayer group is another blog for another day....back to Maggie.

I hadn't met Maggie until last week. I came home and she was there for dinner. My mom 'whispered' to me "Go shake her hand!" Which I'm 100% certain she heard because it was DEAD silent when Mary said it and I'm sure blind people have some insane hearing superpowers, like bats do. Blind as a bat?

I went over and shook MaggieBat's hand.

She was cool, whatever, but could see how she'd be a bit of a downer. Not cuz of the blind thing, but because she pretty much just chilled while her seeing eye dog "Delilah" ran around like a bat outta hell...see bats.

The next day, I asked my mom how it went.

"Well, it was fun, but she pretty much just sits there."

Great. I'm glad we've all come to a consensus. Maggs could learn some jokes, maybe some blind jokes, start an addiction, step up her social skills, ya know?

Then tonight, I heard my mom on the phone with her. She kept saying her name. "What do you think, Maggie? Do you like him, Maggie?" I know, Maggie, its just like I said..."

Apparently Mary thinks blind means deaf and slow, too. When on the phone with her seeing friends, she never says their names that much.

Things I Forgot to Mention...

1) The "Senior" community that my parents live in is called "Sunny Glen." Which coincidentally sounds like the name of a cemetery. I call it SG.

2) For transportation to and from Bart and other rendezvous, I drive Mary's 1998 Champagne colored Honda Odyssey Mini Van. One speaker doesn't work and the other crackles in and out if you drive to fast? what?

3) I got yelled at for talking during the season finale of "Greatest American Dog" and then my mom proceeded to cry when the winner (her fav) was crowned.

4) Its my birthday!

I Want to Love You, PWT

Over the 9 years that I’ve been away from the Bay Area, my parents have mentioned some weird/disturbing things that I have pushed to the dark corners of my mind and never acknowledged (like most of my trips to Mexico)

Well, one of those "things" was brought up today…..this one is worse than the time when my parents moved to Iowa and almost lived in a trailer next to a meth house (I’m sure)

They reminded me today that MY DAD CUTS MY MOM’S HAIR.

Holy shit.

After several “Wait, Mom, are you serious?!” ‘Seriously, Mom, are you serious?” “No, Dad, is that true?” “No, you guys, Dad really cuts your hair?” “Seriously?” I asked why and where…..

They pointed to the outside patio area. My mom said it’s convenient and you never have to make an appointment and it’s free. All great points, I’ll give her that, except my dad isn’t a barber or stylist and I’m sure he cuts her hair with a dull pair of scissors they bought from Pac n Save in 1988. Or just a knife and a razor. Or a wing and a prayer, I don't know.

Apparently my Aunt Evelyn has even been blessed with the stylings of Hair by Dick Smith, too. Which means he's offered his services to the family, or my mom has promoted him...unbelievable.

Just put yourself in my shoes, imagine your DAD cutting your MOM’s hair! Its weird and hilarious and absurd, but also makes so much sense that everything feels normal. And when I say normal, I mean completely bat shit crazy.

The only way this could possibly be more white trash is if he cut her hair into a mullet.


My parents couldn’t just leave me be with that info, but then they assaulted me with the reminder of their lunch ritual at Costco every weekend. I often got calls in NYC while they were at Costco, “having lunch.”

“Having lunch” obviously means walking around the store getting free samples.

“There’s so much variety,” my Dad says.

“Do you guys get hot dogs or pretzels or something afterwards?” I ask.

“NO! We’re always so full. We make several rounds,” My mom says as pops shakes his head in agreement.

Thank you Dick and Mary, for unabashedly living like its 1929.


PS My Dad said when my mom’s ready for a cut, he’ll let me watch so he can demonstrate. Yes, I will film it.

PPS Yes, that photo is actually my mom and dad...

This Conversation Actually Just Occurred

Me: "Mom, Shadow (the dog) is really weird."

Mom: "Why?"

Me: "Well, he never wags his tail or anything or shows any emotion."

Mom: "He's not weird, he's a good dog."

Me: "Yeah, but he IS weird."

Mom: "He's my soul mate."

Me: (silence)


Here's a photo of the happy couple, Xmas '06

Mary's Canopy, a Mareopy (sorry)

I apologize for not showcasing this right off the bat, but it has taken me so long to deal with it:

Here is a photo of the bed I have been sleeping in for the past week.



YUP, that's a CANOPY! And not just a simple canopy, but one that has wire frames that make it arch upwards. I feel like I'm in an oversized baby buggy, or a normal sized one and I'm super tiny. Which to be honest, is symbolic on so many levels, but seriously.

My very first reaction when I saw the room was "Dad! It looks like Raggedy Anne was slaughtered in here!"

"Who's Raggedy Anne?"

"Jesus Christ, Uhh, she's a friend from High School."

The Awakening

So this morning, I just couldn’t take it anymore. My mom busted into my room at 7a and signed on to her DIAL UP email account.

Since the computer is pretty much next to my head, it was like 1995 was shouting in my face.

“MOM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I am sleeping! We have to have some boundaries here, you can’t just come in whenever you want. “

“Well I wasn’t being loud,” she says

“YES! Yes you were, because I’m awake now. I’m not sleep talking.”

“You don’t have to yell, the dog doesn’t like it.”

“What?! That doesn’t make any sense and I don’t care, Mom.”

“Well you should care.”

“Well, you should care that I’m 27 and have boundaries!”

I don't think my mom gets what I mean when I say boundaries, its way too new agey for her. And I'm almost 100 percent sure she thinks it means she has to stay a certain number of feet away from me.

So far I have been woken up at 7a in the following ways

1) Mom shouts HELLO through my bedroom window

2) Mom is moving the trash cans from the street to outside my bedroom window

3) Mom moves the trash cans outside my window, again ( I don’t understand how many times trash gets picked up around here)

4) Mom is sweeping incredibly loudly outside my window, but it sounds more like she’s playing roller hockey, which I wouldn't put past her at this point

5) Mom checks email at an unnecessary time

Here are my theories of how she will wake me up next

Tuesday: She plants a tree outside my window
Wednesday: She uses a chain saw to cut down said tree
Thursday: She buys a jet plane so she can turn on the engine at 7a on the dot, outside of my window
Friday: She wrestles a grizzly bear
Rest of my time here: Please feel free to add your own……