Here's an email I just got from my mother today:
can i drink the rest of the jim beam that was in your room? it's straight jim with nothing else in there, right?
I don't know what makes me more uncomfortable: my mother cleaning my room; her finding Jim Beam in there; or her asking to drink it.
And, to be honest, I can't even remember if there's anything else in it. I do tend to pre-mix.
My response:
"hahahhahah1 wqhat? jim beam in my room? um, yeah."
You can tell by the typos that I am so embarrassed, I could just die.
Do you think this email is some sort of reverse psycholoogoogoly* she's trying to work on me across the international date line? How can she make me feel ashamed when I'm on the other side of the world?
Damn her, it's working!
*not a word.
2 comments:
At least she asked? ::awkward laughter::
As if one day you would come back and demand your bottle of Jim Beam that may or may not be mixed with something else. I love it. What respect she has for you! And booze.
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