January 17, 2005
The Pirate Wench Blog: Corrupting America's Youth and Elderly Since Late 2004
So I was at our weekly Thursday Night Supper, and as it always does, the conversation digressed to bodily functions. Usually it's Adam who starts it, with some story about how his brother called from California to tell him about a foot-long turd. Or we talk about how Husband couldn't even say "fart" in front of his ex -- let alone do it -- and now he's taking farting and burping to Olympic heights, and we admire his progress.
Regardless, we somehow got onto bathroom habits, and I proudly announced that that's exactly what I had blogged about that very day!
~cricket~ ~cricket~
"You have a blog?"
Oh shit. I should mention that both my parents are part of this Thursday Night Supper group, and despite the reading devotion of many other (read: younger) family members, I have kept my dirty little secret from the parentals. So it's ironic that I'm the fucking retard who beefed all over it.
Now, my mother thinks I'm a great writer. Always has. I can pen a heart-warming thank-you note, I brought down the house with a eulogy for my grandmother, and don't get Mom started on all the poetry and short stories I wrote as a child. [nerd alert!] I guess I'm not curing cancer or anything, so the woman has to funnel her maternal pride where she can.
(I should also mention that my mother is Martha Stewart and Edith Bunker's love child.)
"Can I read it?!"
"Mom, you don't want to read it. Even Husband doesn't read it."
"Just let me read it."
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Mom! It's completely inappropriate!"
"I don't care!"
"I use swear words!"
"It's not like I've never heard them before."
And for a nanosecond, I actually considered being a grown-up, giving my mother the benefit of the doubt, and letting her read some and decide for herself if she wanted to continue.
And then my brain started functioning properly again, and I remembered the one entitled "Masturbation", where I mention my Hello Kitty! vibrator in the first paragraph. And then there's my "List of Five", or even worse, "The Crossover Edition". And what isn't obscene or freaky contains pop-culture references that, frankly, she just ain't gonna get.
Plus, looking back, I realize that I make fun of my father more than I probably should, considering all the money he invested in my upbringing. Not that it would annoy Mom -- those would probably be her favorite entries -- but if she knows about them, then I can't guarantee Dad won't eventually come across them.
So, the question is: Do I make my mother (albeit probably temporarily) happy and just give her the damn link? Or do I spare her the agony of learning that her daughter is a bitter, vengeful, crude, bi-curious freak? (This is, of course, assuming she doesn't already know or at least suspect these things.)
In the end, I printed out the posts that I feel are okay for her to read. She may or may not get considered for full access, depending on her reaction to them.
Of course, I gave my 17-year old cousin the link without batting an eye.