How I Met Mother

No wonder my clothes have smelled nicer lately. I’m still not going to ask to be tucked into bed, however.

I went into our kitchen a couple of days ago (or was it a couple of weeks ago? Don’t ask me. I’m drunk.). I was looking for my mom, doing my best mama’s boy voice, and calling for ‘mother’. One of the help heard me and went outside to call (I assumed) my mother. This was when I met our new gay laundry boy who immediately asked if I called for him. Ronan, meet ‘mother’.

I later asked the help if she in fact called him ‘mother’, and she said no – she just thought I did.

I’ll have to be clearer the next time I go calling for ‘mother’. I never had to make any distinction before this.

Categories: [miscellaneous], [pellets]

[1] Comment

1 Comment »

  • Zel says:
    March 1, 2012 A.D. at 9:11 PM

    Hi mother!

    [Reply]

 

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