sundays can be painfully slow at the pub. yesterday particularly, it being mama's day 'n' all, and most people don't bring their mamas to a pub. while not good for my pocketbook, good for the mamas of the world, i suppose. the bartender and i flip through trashy mags for hours at a time. i learn nothing, other than that i'm quite happy i do not live in L.A., Jessica Simpson's breasts seem to get bigger with each passing day, and that with each flip of the page, i find myself feeling increasingly sorry for Britney and Lindsay, and increasingly angry at their mothers.
where are they?
and, of course, i recognize the unfairness in that complaint. why aren't i equally angry at their fathers?
where are they?
anyway, i did find an advertisement for this website. love 'em.
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and yes, it was mother's day yesterday. yes, my mother is dead. yes, i was fine. i got a little Eeyorean on my walk home in the evening, but i made a few touchbase telephone calls to other motherless heathens i know and love, and that seemed to help. then i went home and celebrated the freedom of my motherlessness by running around my apartment with scissors in dirty underwear until 3am.
2 comments:
Ha ha...Why do they always say "Make sure you're wearing clean underwear?" Like we're going to wear dirty underwear??
Some e-friends started a forum for women whose mothers have died. If you want to check it out, the addy is www.deadmomsclub.com
I know it is kind of weird, but it helps to have friends, no?
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