Shit My Mom Says

First of all, let me start off by saying that I really should have a Twitter account, a book, and a TV sitcom called Shit My Mom Says. In fact, it was my mom who introduced me to the Shit My Dad Says Twitter feed. I've since deleted the email she sent me but along with the Twitter link she wrote, "See, I'm not the only one who does it!!! All parents say things like that." I have several examples of my mom's gaffes, most of which have been directed at me:

I was probably in middle school when my mom explained to me, "You're not gorgeous but you're pretty."

It was during high school that she told me, "You're just photogenic." Does that mean I look like crap in person?

We were shopping together about a year ago when I showed her a dress that caught my eye. "No, that dress is for skinny people," she said casually.

Last week I told my mom that I was getting my eyebrows threaded for the first time. (I usually get them waxed.) Her response? "Oh really? You should do your whole face."

Last night my mom asked me the same ten questions she always asks during our nightly phone conversations. Your mom may have the same script. "What'd you do today? What'd you have for dinner? How's Tommy?" and so on. Then she switched gears and completely blindsided me with this:

"Sooo, how's your period?"

"My period's fine, how's your period?" I asked, warily.

"I haven't had eet since June."

"Okay..." I paused for a second but quickly recovered. "Should I ask Tommy how his period is too?"

We're both pharmacy technicians and it turns out my mom had heard of women having very light or no menstruation on NuvaRing, which I use. After I gave her the details she wanted, we somehow segued into sharing funny pharmacy stories with eachother. I laughed so hard that I was crying by the end of the phone call.

My mom started off slowly by sharing weird comments she'd heard recently from patients. Examples: "I crapped my pants so I went home to clean up" and "I got a shot in the butt!!!"

My mom really got the ball rolling when she said to me in her muddled but cute Iranian-Italian accent*, "You know I don't really look at de customers. De udder day I vuz at de vindow helping a customer and I vent and got heez prescription and came back to de vindow and de customer said to me, 'Ma'am, you have the wrong customer.'  I vent to de wrong vindow!!! I vuz so embarrassed. I mean, I done dat before but I realized eet. Dis time the customer told me!"

Giggling, I asked her what she said in response.

"I sed, 'Oh, HEH! HEH!'"

My mom continued with the self-deprecating stories. "I alvays forget vich vindow I'm at. So sometimes I'm at vindow one and I say, 'I can help de next customer at vindow number tree.'"

"So where do the customers go?" I asked, laughing.

"Dey go to vindow tree!!! And my covorkers laugh and say, 'Why did you send the customer to my window?'"

She then told me about a coworker of hers, whom we'll call Nicole because that's her real name. "Neecole answers de phone a lot. She's good at eet so dats ver dey put her. So de udder day she vuz at the vindow and said, 'I can help the next customer at window number four.' Den de customer vent to her vindow and Neecole said, 'Hi, Woodbridge pharmacy, Nicole speaking. How can I help you?'" This made me laugh so hard that it brought tears to my eyes and caused a mini-coughing fit.

I had to tell my mom about my own recent pharmacy blunder. There was a problem with a prescription and I had to get in touch with the customer. I called the phone number on file and got the standard robot answering machine. "Hello. No one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone." I waited for the beep and then absentmindedly gave my schpiel: "Good afternoon, XYZ Pharmacy, this is Panthea. How may I help you?" A few seconds passed with no response from the voice at the other end of the line. I started to get annoyed with that person...but I quickly figured out my mistake and managed to salvage my pride by hitting the asterisk (*) button and selecting the "erase and rerecord" option.

Towards the end of our conversation, I pulled out my laptop (her name is Pinky and she's a petite, sleek, pink netbook) and started to document our stories. I realized I was giving my mom delayed verbal responses so I explained to her that I was typing up our conversation so that I could post it online. Now, I had no idea she knew of this blog, but she immediately and excitedly replied, "Oh! In your ting?! I Tink I'm Funny?!" Yes, Ma, in my ting!

My parents miraculously acquired Facebook accounts last year. The link to this blog is on my Wall but my mom has never once mentioned it to me. Apparently, she's a big fan of my "I Tink I'm Funny Ting." Ma, could you leave a comment once in a while?

*I guarantee that the next time my mom calls she'll ask me, "You tink my accent eez cute? Tank you! You alvays make fun of eet."