Shit my Mom Says

Since I told a story about my dad, I'm going to tell one about my mom.

Several years ago, I moved from Yakima to Seattle. I started off in Tukwila, but then moved to Burien.I was living in a two bedroom apartment with an old high school friend. How we came to live in that complex, and the adventure within, is a story for another day.

A few weeks before my birthday, I got a card in the mail. It was from my mother. She had sent me a birthday/Christmas card. People do that to me all the time, since my birthday is pretty close to Christmas. Anyway, I open the card, and notice that there are two checks in it.

One is marked "Birthday", and the other is marked "Christmas". The birthday check wasn't signed. Good job, mom.

So, I put the check in an envelope with a note asking her to sign the check (even though I could have just forged her signature) and also thanking her for the money, and send it on it's way back to St. Louis, which is where my mom lived at the time.

A couple days later, I get a call from mom.

"Hi, honey! Did you get the card I sent?"

'Yeah, mom, I did. Thank you again."

"Again? What do you mean?"

'Well, mom, I opened the card a couple of days ago, and one of the checks you sent wasn't signed.'

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. Send me back the check, and I'll send it back to you."

"Not a problem, mom. I already have."

"OK, good."

I pause for a little bit, and then say, to my MOTHER:

"Mom, I don't want to sound like an ungrateful son, but if the check isn't signed, how am I going to cash it and buy cheap liquor and hookers?"

She didn't even take a breath:  "Oh, honey. You know you don't buy cheap liquor..."