As I’ve gotten older, I can seriously appreciate the amazingness of napping.
When I was little, my daycare captors forced us to take naps (holy shit, send me back to…the…future..., Doc?). I honestly wish I lived in Korea where they have “mandatory” naptime and encourage employees to take an hour to sleep in the middle of the day. Their productivity is through the roof, too! But mostly because they are Asian, so it’s not a surprise since they just instinctively kick all sorts of ass in life. I see people napping on the side of the road and they don't do shit. They say as you get older you require less sleep at night – it’s because we’re fucking napping all the time or just have to power through the day because the world hates adults. I’d actually love to nap throughout the course of the day, but I’d be afraid that I’d have a hard time discerning between reality and dreamy time. My mom is a great example of the fuckedupedness of an irregular and excessive sleep pattern.
Mom – there are fantastic things that constantly confound me with regards to your love of napping:
-Epic fucked up bed head. Because you are forever putting aquanet and hair products on your dome, your hair is almost 100 percent guaranteed to look like someone gave you the boocake from behind, then you went into a violent seizure, passed the fuck out and woke up with a crusty motley crue do.
-Until you had your lipstick and eye liner permanently fastened to your face, your mouth seemed to shift during your sleep. Now your mascara is the only thing that gets all jacked up. You are forever in a beauty recovery state because you are trying to fix your make-up and hair from your day comas.
-You are groggy as fuck. I don’t understand a damn thing you’re talking about. We’ve had many odd conversations about bullshit that you don’t even remember. However I remember much of it - sucka!
-Your hours are sooooo jacked up. I am not awake at 1am on a week night waiting for you to call me about what movie you are watching two times through on TBS. Pretty Woman can suck my dick. And for free.
-Crazy shit happens sometimes, but you let it roll off your back because you plan shortly thereafter to sleep and forget about it.
Aside from the above, I am equally intrigued how my mom can sleep anywhere at any time – she doesn’t give a fuck. You are the most not fun person to drive with because you always blast the A/C and pass the fuck out. Not cool. Pluto and Mars have to align with the 7th house kitty corner from my block and a baby has to be born with a sixth toe and a virgin must perish in a volcano at the hands of chocolate hungry Indian peoples for me to go to sleep. Since I didn’t practice nappage as a child, I’m sure this is my punishment. And that I am forever waking up at 3 in the morning and desperately pleading that the devil doesn’t devour my sleepy little soul. Fuck my damned life.
I constantly bugged my mom when she’d be asleep. And I definitely walked in on serious parent humpage quite often mistaking her naps with ‘couple naps’. Couples do not nap together. Everyone knows this except me when I was little. Unless you had JUST gotten back from the Boundary Waters or did awful, early morning Saturday chores or just killed and buried your husband’s pregnant hooker (the family that kills a hooker together, STAYS together) you do not nap with your S/O. So my poor mom would be trying to get her 17 hours of sleep in and I would completely ruin her marathon zzz fest. Occasionally she would get a phone call from a relative or coworker that I deemed important enough to wake her for. This either resulted in her freaking out and yelling at me to tell them any lie to get them to go away OR we’d have an insane conversation that vaguely resembled a meaningful interaction about said call. My mom once requested that I call my Aunt Shenny and get her out of the pimple. She was frantic – so I thought she was awake – freaking out about her sister and how we needed to call her. So being the amazing fucking child I was, I got on that shit, but then quickly hung up once my mom demanded that I free my aunt from the clutches of an angry pore. Hmmm…
My mom also gets very, very sleepy and tells me extremely inappropriate things, which are awesome and then I put on here so an insignificant fraction of the world’s population can reap the rewards of her lethargy. Recently she said she would like to date me if we were lesbians and not related. Flattered. Really...although I have had creepy Freudian dreams about both my parents *ROAR* It just means we’re close :) …too fucking close.
My mom worked super weird hours much of my childhood so it was a real treat when we could do something together during non-vampire hours. When she could, my mom and I would go to Baskin Robbins after I got done with school since it was only a short walk from our house. Baskin Robbins – HOLY FUCK – people talk about Dairy Queen and Ben and Jerry’s or whatever, but Baskin Robbins fucking rules. The son of the owner gave up the empire to pursuit healthy living and some other bullshit. I think he’s lactose intolerant and was pissed that he missed out on delicious treats and ice cream with goddamned bubble gum inside of it (by the way: best idea ever…even though I just swallow the gum immediately). They had these ice cream cones turned upside down and made to look like little clowns. They were amazing. Amazing. Anyway…*drool drool inner fat kid wants treats*
(I want to lick, lick, lick, lick you from your head to your cone)
We walk in…pick the delicious ice creams we want to eat (I almost always lost it for bubble gum or superman, and occasionally would surprise myself with coffee)…and as we’re paying for the ice cream, I notice my mom making a weird gesture with her leg. Apparently she had taken a nap in the same jeans she was wearing the previous day and at some point or other took all her bottom layers off at once. She had then forgotten to take out the underwear that she left in the pants when putting them on for our ice cream escapade. So there we were in the most wholesome place on planet oblivious and my mom has a pair of nude, silky, totally mom underwear clinging to her ankle for dear life (thank God no maxi pad was attached). And she’s holding a cone, so what the fuck is she supposed to do about it? So as discretely as one can be when they’re trying to drag along their used panties without acknowledging their very apparent existence, we trudged towards our table, maybe she went to the bathroom where she then removed them. I’m more than certain that a slew of parents watched in horror. Fortunately the kids were preoccupied with their treatsicles. I hope they read this blog so it'll ruin their day.
Regardless, these sorts of things don’t fucking happen to anyone else. Really. But to my mom, it does with some level of frequency. It's no big thing - SLEEP IT OFF, Sharrie Shorliss! xxxo MT
No comments:
Post a Comment