Momma

I've realized that Momma says a lot of incredible things. I typically tweet them but I feel putting them here with the entire story will be better, and let's face it, I'm not getting a TV show out of this. So, be sure and check back often.

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We took a trip back home one year to help Mammaw make the move to join us in misery up here in the Last Frontier. It's what we do here, "Oh, you must move here, it's so beautiful and wonderful and there is fairy dust and singing angels and chocolate mountains and lollipop fields!" Then you get here and we're all, "Hah! Sucker. Hope you own a coat or seven."

So, we've been flying all night (and boy were our arm's tired. Psh.) We finally made it to my hometown and I'm following, dragging my bag and my ass. So tired I can hardly keep my eyes open, when we pass a nice gentleman flight attendant. Momma, being the Southern Belle that she is, must greet one and all. This was her greeting:

Momma: Whashasay.

What? After she stopped laughing and I changed my peed in pants she explained that she thinks that she was trying to say "What do you say?".

She thinks.

Maybe.

We still use this as a general greeting in our family.

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I asked Momma if it was time. (I don't remember what for, bacon perhaps.)

She says: It's learl.

Learl.

This we deduced was a combination/confusion of late and early. Learl.

The question couldn't have been about bacon. It's never too late or early for bacon. 

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Momma: Do we have any rope sausage?

Jack: No.

Momma: That's weird.

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While discussing little creatures that could break into our homes and bite our ankles:

Momma: I hate it. That's my second worst nightmare. My first of course is being the Grinch and being in a chimney and getting all twisty and stuck.

Me: Yes.

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Momma: I called the police on someone today...well, first I called the manager at Fred Meyer. Then I called the police. I said, "Yes. I would like to file a complaint. There is a woman and her child at Fred Meyer and they are disturbing the peace...I've already talked to the manager."
Me: That is an excellent reason to call the police.

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THAT GUY HAS SOMETHING HANGING OUT OF HIS NOSE! Does he?

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 (After saying something incoherently.)
Something is wrong with me. Seriously Amber. Something is wrong with my brain. I'm going to need to start writing everything down.

Me: laughing

I mean it. One day I'm going to look in the mirror and say, "Who are you?".

Me: Hold on, let me pull up my blog page. What did you say again?

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(Discussing whether or not we hug or shake hands with people when parting ways.)

Momma: I'm always a hugger...sometimes I'll even give a kiss on the cheek.

Me: Yeah, I always go for the hug too.

Momma: You wanna really fuck 'em up, kiss em on the neck.

BUAH HAH HAH HAH HAH. (infinity)

Literally, I just called her. She's still laughing about it.

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Momma: I gave the animal cracker but he just kept putting it in and out, in and out.

Pause...

Momma: Wait...isn't that what she said?

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Momma: You're not that funny lately are you?
Me: Um. What?


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Phone rings...I answer:

Me: Hellooooo?
Momma: I am [number witheld so I don't get a whoopin'] years old and by God if I want a rooster then I'm gonna have me a damn rooster.
Me: Who is this?
Momma: I'm getting a rooster for my yard. Noone is going to tell me I can't.
Me: Ok.
Momma: Good bye.

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Phone call.

Momma: What's the haps? ....that's what Morgan says.
Me: Don't say that.

"conversation"

Momma: Okay then. Later G. ...Morgan says that too...what's it mean?
Me: It doesn't matter right now. Don't say that.