so, i got a call from my son jesse tonight. he said, “hey mama, guess where i’m calling from? I’m in LA!”
oooooookkkkkkkkaaaaayyyyy
we chat a bit, lightly passing over the fact that he hopped a plane and never told me. as he said, “i did you a favor so you wouldn’t worry.”
can we say, *career in politics or marketing?*
then he says, “i actually called for a reason.”
uh huh (i KNOW what’s coming).
“can you put $300 in my bank account? i’ll pay you back as soon as i get home.”
sure, kid. no problemo. let me get hold of brni, find out how much he has in his savings since i only have about 30 bucks in mine…and sure, i’ll rearrange things so that i can cover this thing, float that thing…no problem.
*sigh*
kids. can’t live with ’em. can’t shoot ’em.
but, ya gotta love ’em none the less.
kids. can’t live with ’em. can’t shoot ’em.
no. you have to wait ’till he’s back from LA for that. unless you want to get on a plane…
It’s a dirty job…
Actually, more than once, I’ve found myself explaining to rather silly people who have the audacity to ask if I really sacrifice humans that, no, and the fact that BOTH my sons lived to grow up is proof of that fact. There were many, many times when I’d have used the LEAST excuse…it’s better now. Marginally.
Allied won’t pick them up with th recycling either.
I think Jesse just personified the yiddish word “chutzpah”.
and i always thought “chutzpah” was cherokee…
Oh you wacky goyim