<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169</id><updated>2024-09-08T22:42:56.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mom Said What?</title><subtitle type='html'>My Mother is out of this world. She is extremely inappropriate, unfiltered, ridiculous and uncomfortable with any expression of real emotion. She says the most outlandish things.. and with a lifetime full of this knowledge, I am compiling the best of her quotes.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-4632257295096045184</id><published>2013-11-04T09:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-04T09:58:19.908-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Know What a Golden Shower is, Mom? </title><content type='html'>Long time no blog. I&#39;ve been really bad about consistency, this is unacceptable. I know I have started out a blog with that first sentence at least a handful of times, I&#39;m sorry.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So what&#39;s new you might be asking, (probably not, I&#39;m just trying to segue.) Well, I have... moved...HOME. Yes, as in, back home. Yes, as in...with my....PARENTS. I know. I know. No one is more pissed/embarrassed about it than I am. There is nothing cute about being 26, jobless, and living at home. The only silver lining is that where I&#39;m from, it&#39;s not that uncommon, it is actually the norm. Soooo I guess that makes me normal, for once. I&#39;d rather not be. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So living back at home, as you can imagine means tons and TONS of time with my mother. Ahhh yes, that evil, mean spirited, nothing-nice-to-say SheDevil. She did try to not insult me or push me over the edge for the first few days... but I mean, like few as in 2 or 3 and then it was back to her incessant criticizing and ridicule. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will say this though, I thought it would be different, not worse but different, because it is still bad. I was expecting the constant nagging about my weight, my dating life you know, the usual. Instead, I don&#39;t know if it is because I am older now, or because of the way my dad jokes about them... having private alone time (barf) and how that makes me really fucking uncomfortable (duh) but she is now participating in that. I CANNOT FUCKING DEAL. I CAN&#39;T.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean, getting this shit from my Dad is awful, don&#39;t get me wrong, but he is so gross that I just don&#39;t believe it. Now coming from my mom who is the world&#39;s worst liar, she can&#39;t get out a joke let alone a lie without a grin and chuckle, throws me off. I mean, it makes me wonder. NO CHILD SHOULD HAVE TO WONDER ABOUT THIS SHIT. Yes I said child, yes I am 26 but when your parents talk about their private life, you will always be 12 hearing something you shouldn&#39;t.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will just divulge one example because I seriously think I would barf reliving these conversations. &lt;br /&gt;
My friend is working at a retirement home, caring for the elderly and unfortunately has had to deal with a lot of bodily fluids, not her own. She texts me some stories, because well, venting is natural and we like to joke about the awful things that happen to us and ask each other where we went wrong in life. So she sent me a text saying, &quot;I got another golden shower, where did I go wrong in life? I&#39;m going to start calling my residents R. Kelly.&quot; (this was the second time that happened, if you&#39;re not sure what a golden shower is, kudos you&#39;re still innocent, let&#39;s trade lives. It is when someone pees on you; mostly for sexual pleasure.) Naturally I start laughing out loud, I am with my mom and aunt in the car. Mom asks, &quot;What&#39;s so funny?&quot; I&amp;nbsp; read her the text, give her the back-story. &quot;Mom, do you know what a golden shower is?&quot; Mistake, Sam. Such a mistake.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes, your dad asked me to do that once.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I rolled down the window because, I am not kidding you, gag reflex kicked in and I really thought I was about to channel the exorcist.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Meanwhile, my sexual deviant of a mother was sitting there straight faced explaining what a golden shower was to my aunt who then had the same reaction as I did.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My aunt chimes in, &quot;why the hell would you say that?? In front of your daughter, you sicko!&quot; Exactly, thank god I&#39;m not alone. My mother is out of this world crazy. She needs to be studied. I am utterly disgusted, excuse me I&#39;m going to go shower again because I feed dirty. </content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/4632257295096045184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/4632257295096045184?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/4632257295096045184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/4632257295096045184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2013/11/do-you-know-what-golden-shower-is-mom.html' title='Do You Know What a Golden Shower is, Mom? '/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-3651958040427887089</id><published>2013-06-13T13:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-06-13T13:55:11.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mom is as classy as a Kardashian. </title><content type='html'>My Mother, she&#39;s about as classy as a Kardashian. She&#39;s got the mouth of a drunk sailor, the tact of a barbarian and the evilness of a shedevil. In related news, we are extremely similar.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I was back home due to my recent and completely bullshit status of unemployment, where I voluntarily spent a week in my childhood room, which by the way is like walking into 2004, such a time warp. A week dealing with my mom&#39;s criticism, nagging and mockery. You&#39;ve read it all before, &quot;Sam, I thought you&#39;ve been working out... whatever it is, it&#39;s not working. Sam, go be a stripper, strap a pole. Sam, move home.&quot; Ahhh yes, whenever things get a little rough for me my parents are quick to jump to &quot;the obvious&quot; which to them means,&amp;nbsp; just picking up and moving home. Which, I&#39;m sure most parents would love, but mine do it in a way that not only makes you feel like a failure, but also breaks your spirit. Oh the joys of coming home. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I grew up about 15 minutes from the border of Mexico, needless to say, Mexico has always been apart of my life. The good and the bad. It was always relatively safe, especially during the winter seasons which are a big tourist time in the Rio Grande Valley. However, the past few years have been pretty scary, drug wars and all. It seems to be mostly over, so my family swears. They started going back during the day for their little shopping trips about a year ago. Personally, it still scares the living shit out of me, everyone I know has a story about someone they know who has been affected by the crazy stuff going on down there - so knowing how terrible my luck is, I thought it best to stay as far away from the border as possible. Well, my Mother, had other plans. One of my last days home, my mom was dead set on us taking a little day trip to stock up on medicine and other cheap necessities. To which I responded, &quot;Mom, but... is it safe? I still hear stories, horrible stories!&quot; Followed by, &quot;Sam, don&#39;t be such a pussy. Jesus, when did you become such a moist little pussy?&quot; Knowing full well, that the word &quot;moist&quot; makes my insides flip and causes a nauseating reaction to which I will surely express with a gagging sound. &quot;MOM! what the fuck?!&quot; I scream, because, if I failed to mention, we are with my two Aunts and my cousin. &quot;Well shit girl, don&#39;t be such a puss.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just like that, I was going to Mexico. There is only so many times you can stand to hear your mother call you a pussy before you just have suck it up and risk your life. I wish I could say that this was as shocking to me as it might be to you reading it... but alas, I cannot. My mother is like no other and that&#39;s my cross to bare, I suppose. Though, I will say, she is awesome and our relationship is pretty spectacular. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
p.s.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We were just fine, nothing out of the ordinary happened, we ate, we drank (a lot of XX and margaritas) and did some shopping, all was well and we came back with all of our body parts. Success!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/3651958040427887089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/3651958040427887089?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/3651958040427887089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/3651958040427887089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2013/06/my-mom-is-as-classy-as-kardashian.html' title='My Mom is as classy as a Kardashian. '/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-8324509523634004768</id><published>2013-01-24T10:40:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2013-01-24T10:41:39.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Emails from My Mother...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;Daily emails with my mom.. this is just yesterday&#39;s thread.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;The adventures of the emotionally retarded mother/daughter duo.. world&#39;s worst combination. We can&#39;t even express emotion with&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;each other&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;, there is no hope for me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;MOM: &amp;nbsp; Hey girl is everything ok kind of got the feeling you needed to tell me something. Don’t forget to make an appointment for the dentist and the doctor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;ME: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;no everything is fine, just birthday blues.. mostly the fact that i&#39;m going to be 26 which is the age you had or were preggo with me and i&#39;m still single as F with no prospects (anymore) and my job sucks .. mostly this is not what i had in mind for myself when i was younger.. you know ..that same ol&#39; same pessimistic feelings. hahaha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;I had liquid courage and just laid it all out there. It didn&#39;t go well. N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;ow i&#39;m sad and old and lonely. I&#39;m gonna start collecting cats. right meow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;MOM: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;HAHAH…sorry had a good laugh there. Good things comes to those who wait and all the garbage that goes along with lifting someone’s spirits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;It’ll happen, you&#39;re still young. I’ll lay off the grandma thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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As for your job well hopefully there’s one out there perfect for you. Write to Oprah ask her for a job, appeal to her sense of whatever Oprah feels.&lt;/div&gt;
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ME: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;hahaha oh man, you are terrible at reassurance, luckily i am also terrible so i know when you actually have a genuine moment. WE ARE SO MESSED UP.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;I have been told that I was incapable of saying how i felt, unless it was through text message. They weren&#39;t wrong. I just don&#39;t like feelings. i&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;don&#39;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;want them, they&#39;re stupid and they make me feel things, ugh.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;MOM: &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;Dang Sam, were you always like this with your feelings. Well until&amp;nbsp; you show some emotion I guess that may be the day you find the ONE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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So texting is the only way your able to communicate your feelings? aye girl…ask your friends to set you up.&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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ME: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;yea i&#39;m emotionally retarded.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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i dont&#39; think i&#39;m at that age yet, if my friends knew of someone to set me up with, they would be with them. hahaha.&lt;/div&gt;
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MOM: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;The one’s that are in a relationship, a brother, or anything? &amp;nbsp;Aye Sam hope you have a good Birthday…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.727272033691406px;&quot;&gt;Just like that, convo over. I think it got too close to being a mushy moment, neither of us are okay with that. So... know of any cats?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/8324509523634004768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/8324509523634004768?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/8324509523634004768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/8324509523634004768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2013/01/emails-from-my-mother.html' title='Emails from My Mother...'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-5232326968319124797</id><published>2013-01-02T14:26:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2013-01-02T14:39:10.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weddings and Funerals</title><content type='html'>ahh holidays. Am I right? If it weren&#39;t for all the lovely and necessary alcoholic holiday drinks I don&#39;t know how I would have survived my mother this season. Having so many &quot;coupled up&quot; holidays so close together might not bug most people, those people are assholes and are probably in a loving relationship. Fuck them. Anyway, those people also probably have loving and supporting mothers who are just so overjoyed to see their only daughter, the eldest, golden, first born child whom they adore, right? Herein lies my problem, my mother - emotionally retarded and void of all positive natured criticism is just so deconstructive, infuriating and brutally honest.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, I do own a mirror. Yes, I have noticed the weight gain. Yes, I do drink more than I should, NO - I DON&#39;T HAVE A PROBLEM. &amp;nbsp;Yes Mother, I realize I have not had a stable relationship since he who shall not be mentioned, and yes, I&#39;m aware of how long ago that was. For the love of God NO, mother, I&#39;m not a lesbian. I&#39;m just single, 25, no prospects and ok-- not in as of great shape as I used to be. To which my loving &lt;strike&gt;wretched &lt;/strike&gt;Mother replies, &quot;Might as well be.&quot;&amp;nbsp;This was just DAY ONE.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On our way back from my extended family&#39;s house on Christmas Eve, alone with ...her, she attempts having a normal conversation of my dating life and other life choices. After the &lt;i&gt;subtle &lt;/i&gt;probing questions, &amp;nbsp;to which I can only feel worse about myself, which therefore requires no further injury to my pride --she keeps going. &quot;Sam, what if you never get married?&quot; Realizing she dove right in to the deep end too quick she retracts a bit, &quot;I mean, what if you don&#39;t get married before.. you know.. your grandparents... die. What if I die?&quot; With no possible shock left, due to a lifetime of experiences like this, and my own emotional handicap, a direct result of being my Mother&#39;s daughter, I sarcastically say, &quot;Mom, at this point I will plan your funeral before I plan my wedding.&quot; To which, we both immediately start laughing hysterically. I had given up and when I stop fighting back with her, she feels remorse, so me giving in made her feel like shit - yet she&amp;nbsp;laughed&amp;nbsp;it up and continued to&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;subtly&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;pick on me.. but at least that conversation was over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;I need a serious detox from all things depressing, which is why my annual trip to Colorado with my friends for one big music festival, snowboarding and debauchery trip comes in perfect timing. I shall come back renewed and hungover.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/5232326968319124797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/5232326968319124797?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/5232326968319124797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/5232326968319124797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2013/01/weddings-and-funerals.html' title='Weddings and Funerals'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-7273772121254171894</id><published>2012-11-29T08:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-11-29T08:39:37.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama&#39;s Break-Up Checklist</title><content type='html'>Miranda Lambert&#39;s - &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1Mq0Vvsxk8&quot;&gt;Mama&#39;s Broken Heart&lt;/a&gt; - written by Kasey Musgraves, two fierce Texas Girls with no apologies.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When I first heard this song I related in so many ways, I was actually dealing with a breakup and very much relating to the lyrics &quot;I numbed the pain at the expense of my liver.&quot; &quot;Sometimes revenge is a choice you gotta make&quot; etc. You can read all about that &lt;a href=&quot;http://forthemodernwoman.blogspot.com/search/label/revenge&quot;&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway.. my mom was battling with her reactions and advice to me. She battled between what she &lt;i&gt;should &lt;/i&gt;say - as her responsibility as a mother and what &lt;i&gt;she thought and felt. &lt;/i&gt;Because I am my mother&#39;s daughter.. I completely understood. I was battling between how I &lt;i&gt;wanted &lt;/i&gt;to react and how I knew what I should do. On the one hand I was confused,&amp;nbsp;embarrassed&amp;nbsp; sad, let down, depressed etc. On the other hand I was furious, Lorena Bobbitt -furious. I wanted to destroy him and at one point..I called my mom and said, &quot;I&#39;m going to jail, be ready to bail me out please.&quot; &quot;WHAT? WHY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?&quot; She quickly asked. &quot;I&#39;m going over to his house.. shit hit the fan and well, he lied. He has some explaining to do..and begging.&quot; &quot;Sam, DO NOT do anything stupid..it&#39;s not worth it, that &amp;nbsp;racist-momma&#39;s boy-asshole isn&#39;t worth it. Can&#39;t you just wait a month or two and key his car in a parking lot..so no one will suspect you?&quot; she says. If that little conversation could sum up the motherly&amp;nbsp;advice&amp;nbsp;and her true disdain for men who hurt me/crazy bitter old woman advice, it would be that one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Overreaction? Yes, but you know what they say, ...bitches be crazy, well that and &quot;Hell hath no fury like a woman&amp;nbsp;scorned&quot; and shit, was I scorned. Well, that was all in the past and I&#39;m over it now - but while spending some time with my mom over the holiday we were talking about that moment and how I have been doing lately, as far as dating new guys and what not. I realized that the struggle between my mom&#39;s advice is pretty ridiculous. She&#39;ll go from saying something like, &quot;go out for drinks, rebound&quot; to &quot;go get one drink..but just one, don&#39;t get sloppy&quot; to &quot;you know, you are young and there will be other men.&quot; etc.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So after the holiday and having this song just come on my shuffle I&#39;ve decided to put together the most memorable &quot;how to deal with a break-up&quot; checklist by my mother.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ol&gt;
&lt;li&gt;take a day to be really sad. Then stop making yourself sick by crying - get out, do stuff, call a friend.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;get a hair cut, color your hair - do something for you that makes you feel beautiful.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;pedicures never hurt.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;kick him in the balls&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;do not answer his calls or reply to his messages&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;delete him from everything&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;go get a drink - but not too many, don&#39;t get sloppy&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;if you must have revenge, wait a month then key his car in a parking lot so no one will suspect you&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;does he have cute friends? ....&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;go to the gym, you always want to look better than him.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;don&#39;t forget to eat. keep yourself healthy&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;don&#39;t dwell on what you can&#39;t change. It does you no good to keep thinking of how it happened or what would have happened if it went a different way. He&#39;s an ass, not worth it and you&#39;re better off.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;don&#39;t overload your friends, don&#39;t be that girl.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;go on a date or two but don&#39;t jump into a relationship&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;don&#39;t hate all men&amp;nbsp;because&amp;nbsp;this one sucked.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;stay strong, but there is no shame in being sad&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;for the love of God, don&#39;t call him drunk.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;sleep in the middle of your bed&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;imagine that look of fear he had when you showed up &quot;hahahaha&quot; and laugh about it.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Well, that is what I can remember. Pearls, aren&#39;t they?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/7273772121254171894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/7273772121254171894?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/7273772121254171894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/7273772121254171894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/11/mamas-break-up-checklist.html' title='Mama&#39;s Break-Up Checklist'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-1843337097136325286</id><published>2012-09-27T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-27T12:24:52.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Four kinds of women.</title><content type='html'>My mother is genuinely worried I will die alone. She&#39;s &lt;a href=&quot;http://forthemodernwoman.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-mom-hates-me.html&quot;&gt;said this &lt;/a&gt;on numerous occasions, she even tried to &lt;i&gt;soften the blow&lt;/i&gt; of my &lt;i&gt;high &lt;/i&gt;expectations of getting married by telling me, that I probably won&#39;t. (that was her being supportive.) Her most memorable analogy or piece of advice was to relate to me in a way she was sure I would understand, Sex and the City.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was just another casual conversation with my mother, the usual questions followed by the always invading questions of my nonexistent dating life.. where there always seems to be two answers, post traumatic break up..you can read that &lt;a href=&quot;http://forthemodernwoman.blogspot.com/2011/09/crazy-ex-girlfriend-justified.html&quot;&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. It either goes like this, &quot;No, that&#39;s over.. just another guy I thought had potential but he turned out to be a douche, typical&quot; or &quot;Nope, not seeing anyone, no mom I&#39;m not a lesbian,&amp;nbsp;Jesus!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So one time, caught completely off guard my mom says, &quot;You know Sam, there are four kinds of women, you need to be more like Charlotte. I know you are somewhere in between Carrie and Samantha, probably more close to Samantha than I&#39;d like, and just because you have the same name doesn&#39;t mean you have to live up to it. You know what those two have in common, ...they don&#39;t get married, well Carrie does, but she&#39;s in her 40s...you don&#39;t want that. Going around giving &lt;i&gt;IT &lt;/i&gt;up doesn&#39;t get you very far. Charlotte held out and was married... twice.&quot; (not exaclty what I&#39;m shooting for, divorce and all). &quot;Or even Miranda, she continues, wait,&amp;nbsp;never-mind&amp;nbsp;don&#39;t be like Miranda, she&#39;s too&amp;nbsp;cynical&amp;nbsp;and bitter, you&#39;re already bitter..you don&#39;t need to be worse. Be somewhere in between Charlotte and Carrie, try holding out, keep those legs closed, girl. hahahaha!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well that&#39;s my mom for you. I guess there really is only 4 types of women. Which one are you? Apparently I&#39;m in between the two spinsters. Awesome. Guess I will die alone.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/1843337097136325286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/1843337097136325286?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/1843337097136325286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/1843337097136325286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/09/four-kinds-of-women.html' title='Four kinds of women.'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-3134442652420160975</id><published>2012-09-17T22:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-17T22:10:04.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloglovin&#39; Follow me! </title><content type='html'>&amp;lt;a href=&quot;http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/4047165/?claim=ubgf86jwg6a&quot;&amp;gt;Follow my blog with Bloglovin&amp;lt;/a&amp;gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/3134442652420160975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/3134442652420160975?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/3134442652420160975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/3134442652420160975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/09/bloglovin-follow-me.html' title='Bloglovin&#39; Follow me! '/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-1202794129828127430</id><published>2012-07-31T15:09:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-07-31T15:09:51.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No One Camps Like the Ramos Tribe</title><content type='html'>The other weekend I went camping with my family and a friend. I&#39;m glad I brought an outsider to attest to my family&#39;s antics, because as crazy and outlandish as you think they sound... seeing it is believing. I can&#39;t even begin to describe the Ramos debauchery ..it&#39;s all so inappropriate,&amp;nbsp;embarrassing&amp;nbsp;and hilarious but here goes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My Mom likes to portray herself as quiet and reserved but when she&#39;s around family and me in particular she lets loose. She curses like a sailor, makes everything a sexual joke, likes to&amp;nbsp;embarrass&amp;nbsp;her kids beyond belief and thoroughly gets off on&amp;nbsp;people&amp;nbsp;hurting&amp;nbsp;themselves&amp;nbsp;(we are identical, with the exception of perception..I could give two shits how people think of me, she genuinely cares.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My Dad is a whole other blog of fucked-up, but here&#39;s a quick back-story. My parents were married and then divorced, while I was in utero. He lived in Dallas, my mom and I lived in the Valley (RGV, aka almost Mexico.) My parents - either by sincere emotion, Mexican Catholic guilt&amp;nbsp;propagated&amp;nbsp;by both Grandmothers, or my incessant crying and complete naive begging, got back together to give it another shot when I was around seven. They had my brother when I was nine and have been unhappily cohabitating, well now recently, happily unmarried from then on. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, my Dad is super outgoing and needs the spotlight. He loves to tell stories and be the center of attention. He is really.. really emotional. He&#39;s cried more than I&#39;ve ever seen a man cry and is super touchy-feely, heart to heart loving, long talks- sappy kind of guy..completely opposite of my Mother. Oh and he&#39;s huge, 6&#39;2 and biiiiiiig. Imagine that stature blubbering like a baby. My Dad is not as funny as my Mom though, not naturally, at least. My mom can come back with quick quips- usually dirty whereas my Dad will most likely keep making fun of you because he has nothing to say. He gets flustered when my mom jokes about sex with me.. as he should. As a Father of a &amp;nbsp;twenty-something Daughter, I can imagine it is rough.. and that would be the end of that..but he, my father, in order to join in on the fun will turn every harmless joke my Mom says into deliberate uncomfortable situations about them and their (barf) love life. (real or not, it&#39;s disgusting).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My family, my &amp;nbsp;Dad&#39;s side is a hot mess, simply put. Outrageous, loud, alcohol-loving, night owls who like to have a good time, whether it&#39;s camping late at night or a two year old&#39;s birthday party. Where there is family and booze, we will have a good time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All these explanations are necessary, trust me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So upon arrival, my friend so graciously brings a bottle of vodka, worried that maybe she shouldn&#39;t, this being a family gathering and all.. I said something along the lines of, &quot;no, they&#39;ll love it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We walk up, vodka in hand and I hear my Aunt yell, &quot;we got another bottle, see I told you! We should have bet!&quot; --Now&amp;nbsp;that&#39;s&amp;nbsp;a welcome! Almost immediately we start drinking, making drinks for my Mom, Aunts and my dearest cousin, who is a hot mess just like me. After some catching up and playful banter, mostly at my expense my mom has now said countless inappropriate things such as: when discussing how hot and sweaty &quot;we&quot; are she calls a vagina... a... CLAM. She points out the size of my boobs, thanks to a very well constructed bikini top and almost immediately asks if anyone has been &quot;sucking on them, because they look bigger.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Later that night and almost an entire liter of vodka later, I suggest a &quot;pants off dance off&quot; -which went over well.. although I may have started and competed by myself for a while. The (fully clothed, thank God) dance off turned into me &quot;dropping it like it was &amp;nbsp;hot&quot;....on my mother. It didn&#39;t stop there.. my Dad, being himself, had to compete and try to take me out.. he has some moves, I&#39;ll give him that.. but before I threw up watching my dad dry hump a chair saying, &quot;that&#39;s what your mom likes&quot; to Marvin Gaye..I shut him up the only way I know how... I said, &quot;weird.. that&#39;s what the guys I sleep with say about me!&quot; He quickly stopped and shut the hell up. Then in order to put that conversation to bed, I suggested we play a friendly game of family flip cup. &amp;nbsp;-Normal right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Being of the Ramos clan, my family was intrigued by anything involving alcohol and competition. So we played until the wee hours of the night. Kids were even playing- with soda, though as we find out later my 13 year old cousin was sneaking beer. As it turns out, family flip cup was a real bonding experience. Beer pong on the other hand (which we also played) was not - we are way to competitive for that shit. In the midst of all this family fun debauchery I looked over at my friend, fully understanding for the first time what is happening and said, &quot;this. is. my. family. .. is this real life? Clearly I didn&#39;t stand a chance&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean, really. We are a product of our environment, are we not? My mom is ridiculous,&amp;nbsp;vulgar&amp;nbsp;and pure evil. My Dad is loud, egotistical, a natural center of attention - spotlight loving goof. My family is loud, crazy and hella fun. Nowhere in the cards was I meant to be an engineer, doctor or business-y, functioning member of society. I fully accept where I am, who I am and how I behave.. but I will continue to use my family as writing material. That the least they can do for me. Bastards.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/1202794129828127430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/1202794129828127430?isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/1202794129828127430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/1202794129828127430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/07/no-one-camps-like-ramos-tribe.html' title='No One Camps Like the Ramos Tribe'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-7218348050869312971</id><published>2012-06-27T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-06-27T08:36:09.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom&#39;s Dating Advice</title><content type='html'>In a moment of &amp;nbsp;confusion and an utter loss for words, decisions, thinking straight etc. I emailed my mom this:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589587&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 10pt;&quot;&gt;Subject:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 10pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 10pt;&quot;&gt;you are in control of all my decisions re: boys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589583&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589572&quot;&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589581&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589580&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
MOM,&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589578&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589577&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589571&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589570&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589569&quot;&gt;since I am incapable of making good choices regarding my love life (or lack their of) you are now in complete control. (complete is used lightly.)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589575&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589574&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589594&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589593&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
2 things:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589597&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589596&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589601&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589600&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589599&quot;&gt;One, that guy i was seeing went &amp;nbsp;away for a job and i didn&#39;t hear from him for 2 weeks, now he&#39;s calling again but won&#39;t be back till late August/September or maybe never I don&#39;t know. I liked him but now i&#39;m not so sure.. I feel bad. Do I tell him I&#39;m not into it anymore or give him a shot, or ignore him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589604&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589603&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589608&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589607&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589606&quot;&gt;Two, If i&#39;m attracted to someone or some people, and I feel like it may be mutual but nothing comes out of it because he/they won&#39;t make a freaking move, should I?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589612&quot; style=&quot;font-family: times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589611&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589615&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589614&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
I give up. haha&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589614&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589614&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
My Mom&#39;s reply:&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589614&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589614&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589764&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589763&quot;&gt;Subject:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;RE: you are in control of all my decisions re: boys&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589614&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589614&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589637&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589636&quot; style=&quot;color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;One if you don’t feel anything at all for that guy then don’t lead him on, but wait until he gets back don’t do while he’s away or over a text or e-mail.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589637&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589620&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589640&quot; style=&quot;color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;Two no don’t invite guys if they want to they&#39;ll ask, let him chase you give him a little taste of what may be to come some of that caramel sweetness LOL I know yuck…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589642&quot; style=&quot;color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;Three I was up late last night and saw an ad for&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href=&quot;http://christiansingles.com/&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589457&quot; rel=&quot;nofollow&quot; style=&quot;color: purple; outline: 0px;&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;lw_1340810643_3&quot;&gt;christiansingles.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;hahaha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;Me to Mom: &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589764&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;Subject:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;RE: you are in control of all my decisions re: boys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;I saw that stupid commercial for&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts cs4-visible&quot; id=&quot;lw_1340810643_0&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; color: #366388; cursor: pointer; font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;Christian singles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;too. ayyy. I doubt anyone who is on Christiansingles would want to date me. I am too crazy for a bible thumper and that isn&#39;t the wussy kinda of guy i&#39;d want.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #1f497d;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px;&quot;&gt;Yes, In case you missed it or disregarded it, my mom referred to my body/sex/no clue as &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #1f497d; font-size: 15px;&quot;&gt;caramel sweetness&quot; I wish I made this shit up.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #1f497d; font-size: 15px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #1f497d; font-size: 15px;&quot;&gt;See, world - &amp;nbsp;I had no shot at being a normal, appropriate, lady-like young woman. NO SHOT IN HELL. My mother is definitely not your average June Clever, but hey she tells it like it is, solid advice, minus Christian Singles.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;yiv686344476MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_5_1340810632589643&quot; style=&quot;font-family: serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #1f497d; font-size: 15px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/7218348050869312971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/7218348050869312971?isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/7218348050869312971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/7218348050869312971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/06/moms-dating-advice.html' title='Mom&#39;s Dating Advice'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-254899081089517930</id><published>2012-06-12T11:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-06-12T11:09:01.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck Mr. Right</title><content type='html'>While indulging in a hungover Saturday morning, well.. afternoon I&amp;nbsp;received&amp;nbsp;a call from my Mom. She always starts off a conversation with &quot;You out and about?&quot; As if I have such a wonderful life, where I&#39;m constantly doing things.. weird enough is that 1 of &amp;nbsp;2 things always happens.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Scenario One: &quot;why yes, I&#39;m actually out with ---- and we&#39;re going to ---&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Ohhhh so I guess you&#39;re made of money, always out spending money you don&#39;t have. Well I guess you can afford to take over (insert bills)&quot; (insert eye roll) &quot;don&#39;t roll your eyes at me, I know when you&#39;re doing it!&quot; She says.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Scenario Two: &quot;Nope, I&#39;m at home.. just watching tv &amp;nbsp;or ----&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Why? You okay? You good on money? What happened, are you sad?&quot; She says so guilty, because she knows what she would have said, otherwise. Then I&#39;m dragged into a much longer conversation than intended. She then gets worried and calls everyday until she&#39;s sure I&#39;m fine.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
So really, there is no right answer to this question. I went with the truth.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;No, I&#39;m at home.. I have a headache. I&#39;m just watching TV and being a bum&quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;How are you going to meet Mr. Right being a lazy-ass hermit?&quot;&amp;nbsp;She asks, taking me completely by surprise.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
So being hungover and completely caught off&amp;nbsp;guard&amp;nbsp;by whatever has &lt;i&gt;inceptioned &lt;/i&gt;its way into my mom I shout,&amp;nbsp;&quot;Fuck Mr. Right!!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
To my relief my mom starts laughing hysterically and shouts,&amp;nbsp;&quot;There is my Sam, atta girl! Guess your back. About damn time girl. You were starting to worry me, you little shit&quot; (little shit is her pet name for me, always has been. - Warm and cuddly, huh?)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Well, guess I am back&quot; I say, excited that I&#39;m not all mopey and if I&#39;m telling the truth, quite surprised as well.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;What did it this time&quot; she asks, calmly and&amp;nbsp;more&amp;nbsp;inquisitive.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Oh you know, just another douche disguising as a nice guy, but this time I saw through the bullshit and hit pause.&quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Well you&#39;re right, fuck Mr. Right, let that asshole come to you!&quot; she says, very Motherly - well for her.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;But don&#39;t spend all day in your apartment, ok?&quot; -she adds, to make sure I am indeed okay.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The thing is, some lines like that, like a little mother-henish, additional comment to most other people would be nagging.. but I know the difference between her nagging and her feelings that she can&#39;t really express. Something like&amp;nbsp;&quot;But don&#39;t spend all day in your apartment, ok?&quot; with the inflection in her voice in the &quot;ok?&quot; means so much more. It means, &quot;I worry about you. I love you. I want you to be happy. I want to say more.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But, because it is my Mom, who is super uncomfortable with&amp;nbsp;displays&amp;nbsp;of emotion talking to me, who is exactly the same, we leave it at that and make a joke.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Yea yea, I&#39;m going out tonight, on to the next one!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
What can I say - like Mother like Daughter.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/254899081089517930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/254899081089517930?isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/254899081089517930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/254899081089517930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/06/mr-right.html' title='Fuck Mr. Right'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-1633222898429091942</id><published>2012-05-31T18:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-06-06T08:34:09.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>[Wo]man Up.</title><content type='html'>Mother, Mother.. you never disappoint.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After talking to my Mother the other day she asked if I had any plans, why yes Mom, I&#39;m actually going to my friends Wedding Shower. Wedding shower? she asks quite surprised.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yep, I guess I&#39;m at that age where MY friends are getting married, having kids, you know.. growing up. Yep, everyone but meeeee!&quot; I say half joking, half serious and depressed. And then..&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;WHAT THE FUCK SAM&quot; my mom shouts. &quot;What is wrong with you, who are you? You need to Woman the hell up. I can&#39;t believe the shit you&#39;ve been saying lately, listen, yes.. you&#39;ve dated your fair share of assholes but come on Sam.&quot; She says quite&amp;nbsp;exasperated. &quot;You are strong, you never wanted to get married, you always said you wanted to be alone and enjoy your 20s and make a name for yourself.&quot; she continues.&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;I know, but.. I don&#39;t know.. I&#39;m changing, i guess&quot; I say trying to make her understand, or make myself understand what I&#39;m feeling.&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;No, you&#39;re not, you&#39;re sad and that&#39;s okay but don&#39;t feel sorry for yourself. You&#39;ll meet someone great when the time is right, so snap the hell out of it!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Boom, just like that.. my mom has put me back on track.&lt;br /&gt;
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So by this point you&#39;ve realized, my Mother isn&#39;t a rainbows and sunshine &amp;amp; coddling parent.. instead she tells it like it is.. from the age of 9 or maybe before. I used to want someone to just stroke my hair and tell me the answers to my spelling questions or tell me that I was a fucking princess and my prince charming would appear at the age of 20 or whatever &lt;i&gt;those&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;parents tell you. Instead, I got a real world, slightly bitter albeit strong sense of self from an early age and for that, I am grateful.&lt;br /&gt;
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Sometimes you need a reality check and someone to bring you out of your damn sad bubble. For me that is my Mom. She may not be the cookie cutter Mother you imagine from your childhood..but she&#39;s my best friend. We can talk about anything and we &lt;i&gt;try &lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;to talk as open and freely as possible..which is awesome, &lt;i&gt;most of the time.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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So, thanks Mom. Consider me, [Wo]man-ed the fuck up.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/1633222898429091942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/1633222898429091942?isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/1633222898429091942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/1633222898429091942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/05/woman-up.html' title='[Wo]man Up.'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250869373236052169.post-2050458672796945577</id><published>2012-05-18T10:22:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-05-18T12:28:23.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom&#39;s Money Trouble Advice</title><content type='html'>If my problem involves any form of monetary trouble, Mom&#39;s advice is &quot;strap a pole, girl.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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stripping: mom approved, cure-all to any and every money struggle.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Examples:&lt;/div&gt;
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2 years ago after graduating with a less than impressive English Degree from The University of Texas, with no job prospects. Mom says&#39;s, &quot;Well Sam.. have &amp;nbsp;you considered stripping, like ...the opposite side of town from where you live? There is money to be made, I won&#39;t be ashamed of you.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
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When my student loan bills started coming.. in red envelopes. Mom says, &quot;Sam, seriously.. strap a pole, come on, put those good moves to use, you have&amp;nbsp;rhythm, use it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Yesterday, when after reading&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: #edeff4; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;lucida grande&#39;, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/16/how-to-pay-off-90000-stud_n_1522534.html&quot;&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;article about a guy who paid off his $90k student loan in 7 months, I asked her if there was anything I could do. Like what was I good at that I could do on the side, something creative.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Mom&#39;s response:&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;&quot;&gt;That would be great, but he sacrificed quite a bit. Are you willing to do the same thing with strapping a pole… you should respond to his blog if your able to and ask him to help you out. Appeal to him as only you know how to work it…..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Thanks mom.. I feel like she&#39;s alluding to me doing a bit more than strapping a pole. How does she know what I would do to &quot;appeal to him?&quot; ..oh that&#39;s right, she&#39;s my mom. Mom&#39;s do know best, right?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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On&amp;nbsp;occasions&amp;nbsp;of circumstance, I will sell shots at a bar where everyone knows my name. When telling my mom how much money I can make on a good night, rather than say &lt;i&gt;&quot;Wow, Sam that&#39;s awesome&quot;.&lt;/i&gt;. My mom says, &quot;Wow, Sam...see imagine if you were a stripper!!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/2050458672796945577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4250869373236052169/2050458672796945577?isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/2050458672796945577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4250869373236052169/posts/default/2050458672796945577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymomsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2012/05/moms-money-trouble-advice.html' title='Mom&#39;s Money Trouble Advice'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>