Brendan
Guerilla Urbanist
- Joined
- Apr 23, 2007
- Messages
- 911
- MBTI Type
- ENFJ
The following all took place over text, because when I talk to her in person, she only listens in so far as I tell her what she wants to hear.
Mom: I need to put the house on the market and get something more affordable.
Me: Do you feel it may be unwise to say things like that over text?
Mom: Obviously not.
Me: Well it is.
Mom: But thanks for the criticism. As always.
Me: Fuck off.
Mom: Consider your cell phone shut off. As of tomorrow.
Me: Good. One less way for you to talk to me. Hey, you think you'll save enough to buy yourself an extra ounce of weed every month?
Mom: Probably. Thanks.
Me: Always happy to help someone whose priorities are straight.
Mom: Thanks. And now I'm done. Don't want to live like this anymore. Bye.
Me: Yeah. I'm so mean and your altruism knows no limits. Boo fucking hoo. How was such a wonderful mother cursed with such a bad son.
Mom: Goodbye.
Me: Promise?
Mom: Yep.
Me: Well you'll have to forgive that I've learned not to trust your promises.
Mom: You can trust this one.
Me: Oh word? Wow now I'm convinced.
Mom: Good. Enjoy the house. I'm done. Painlessly.
Me: I've never enjoyed the house.
Mom: Good. Then you're okay if I sell it. Or you can sell it when I'm gone. That makes me feel better.
Me: Yeah. See you tomorrow.
Mom: Probably not.
She's downstairs drinking a glass of wine and watching TV at the moment.
Mom: I need to put the house on the market and get something more affordable.
Me: Do you feel it may be unwise to say things like that over text?
Mom: Obviously not.
Me: Well it is.
Mom: But thanks for the criticism. As always.
Me: Fuck off.
Mom: Consider your cell phone shut off. As of tomorrow.
Me: Good. One less way for you to talk to me. Hey, you think you'll save enough to buy yourself an extra ounce of weed every month?
Mom: Probably. Thanks.
Me: Always happy to help someone whose priorities are straight.
Mom: Thanks. And now I'm done. Don't want to live like this anymore. Bye.
Me: Yeah. I'm so mean and your altruism knows no limits. Boo fucking hoo. How was such a wonderful mother cursed with such a bad son.
Mom: Goodbye.
Me: Promise?
Mom: Yep.
Me: Well you'll have to forgive that I've learned not to trust your promises.
Mom: You can trust this one.
Me: Oh word? Wow now I'm convinced.
Mom: Good. Enjoy the house. I'm done. Painlessly.
Me: I've never enjoyed the house.
Mom: Good. Then you're okay if I sell it. Or you can sell it when I'm gone. That makes me feel better.
Me: Yeah. See you tomorrow.
Mom: Probably not.
She's downstairs drinking a glass of wine and watching TV at the moment.