The thing about making a deal with the Devil is, he always comes to collect

Well don’t act so surprised, no one in this world can be as GORGEOUS as I am, as SMART as I am, as FUN as I am, without making a deal with the Devil. In this case, the Devil is my mom, and I never thought I will pay the price for being born every-freakin-day-of-my-life! Trust me, you don’t even know the meaning of the word “evil” until you’ve met my mother, which you most likely never will.

So there it is: the painful, way to long, four-and-a-half minute phone conversation with my mom:

“Hey mom, I saw you today leaving work. Kick-ass shoes!”

“Don’t you think they make my ass look big?”

“…The shoes? How can the shoes…Eeew, mom!!! NO. Your ass looks just fine. I can’t believe I just told you that. Gross.”

“So your brother told me you had dinner last night, how come I wasn’t invited?”

“Well, we wanted to have a good time, Mom…”

“What does that suppose to mean?”

“Mom, I’m really not in the mood for the “I’m your mother, hear me roar” speech…”

“Do you have a date for the Christmas Party?”

“Ummm….What could I have said so wrong that the conversation’s center of attention moved to the relationship sector?”

“Dear…”

“Mom…”

“You remember my friend whom I met at your cousin’s wedding…”

“Ok mom, I already have difficulties following…”

“…well she has a son…”

“MOM!”

“What?”

“Doesn’t Hell freeze when you’re not there to run things?”

“Well think about it, why not? You don’t have a date for the Christmas Party, he doesn’t have a date for the Christmas Party…It made perfect sense”

“Just like it makes perfect sense to call me at 3 A.M. (!!!) to ask me about my Christmas plans?”

“Are you at least seeing someone?”

“Ok, mom, you win, now go to sleep.”

:deep sigh: