Artwork by The Bella Bella co.
Unauthorized use will result in torture (I'm not kidding I need an outlet)
Welcome to another round of mental frustration with yours truly Miss B. For this segment we are going to go back in time to this weekend where I was called upon as 'daughter' to my so-called biological 'mother'--Marie (don't you ever call her Maria or you'll never hear the end to it). You see we couldn't be any more different, or look any more different. I am convinced they made a mistake at the hospital but have been too lazy for my nearly 39 years to pluck a hair from her crazy head to compare DNA results. I think I have been procrastinating because if it is true that this woman shares biological matter with me it will confirm that I come from crazy stock and I don't want to admit that just yet. Your mother (and for those of you that don't have mothers, please feel free to take mine, she would gladly take you on) well, most mothers would be content to guilt you into submission, 'You don't call, you don't write, you are this you are that...' My mother decides to mortally wound herself, okay I exaggerate, she mentally mortally wounds me, whatever, she decided to go and break her leg on me, not just regular 'ol breaking, but surgery and need of my daughter services. I reluctantly obliged because my mom is Sybil, one day she's great and I love her and the next she's insane and I am considering the DNA test.
This is how my phone call went on Friday night:
MARIE: "I need joo to choome ovair ohn Satuurdhaay, ehnd whalk jour brohther, no?"
Translation-I need you to come over Saturday and walk your brother, okay?
For those of you unaware it's some strange European thing to add 'no' as a question to the end of a sentence. I can only equate it with the Canadians use of 'eh?' If you don't remember ,my 'mother' is Latin and speaks with a heavy accent (which she is convinced she doesn't possess). In her native tongue it's not much better she speaks with a lisp, which is supposedly completely acceptable. For those of you even more confused by her request to walk my 'brother', my 'brother' is a 3 lb dog--yes he is as neurotic as I am.
MISS B.: "Whatever you want Marie."
MARIE: "Ciao, Ciao, grande beso para mi nina"
Translation: Bye-bye, big kiss for my girl. Her 'girl' by the way, is my dog G.G., she does not acknowledge myself or Bella as her 'girl'. I am "jyoo" and Bella is "Loca"--'crazy' but hey, takes one to know one right?
On Saturday I made my way across the city to tend to Marie's every whim. I would recount them here but she had me do things that people that are ambivalent about whether they are biologically related to someone shouldn't have to be made to do. For fun, I will supply you with a couple golden nuggets from the day:
MARIE: "Jyoo know, mee fhuuuture sohn-een-lahw hasn't challed. Hee probablee whants mee to break my other leg."
Translation: You know? My future-son-in-law has not called. He probably wants me to break my other leg.
Probably.
MARIE: "Jyoo know, peeple thaaat dyont whash their hannds after goin' ca ca geet peenk eiye. Eeets truu."
Translation: You know, people that don't wash their hands after going poo get pink eye. It's true.
For the record I wash my hands if I even pass by a bathroom, just for giggles and everyone knows that I don't do number two.
My 'mother' although clinically committable is too much enjoyment for me to put away for good, besides she laughs at all my jokes (both good and bad).
After ten straight hours with her...
MISS B: "Jyoo noh I blame jyoo for everything wrong eeen my life, eet's jyust ezier thaaat whaaay."
Translation: I blame you for everything.
MARIE: Laughing like a hyena--"Jyoo ahre sooo fhunneey! Oh stohp eet! Jyoo ahre soo cray-zee."
Translation: Maybe you really were switched in the hospital.
And how was your weekend?