"Father to Son"

"Sometimes there's God so quickly."

And now, thanks to Twitter, there's "Shit My Dad Says." Every so often.

Not MY Dad. Justin's Dad. Whoever the Hell "Justin" is.

I don't know Justin, but I do know that we both learned to write down the things our parents say to us. So that we can pass on the kind hearted, but occasionally fucked up, "Yogi Berra on Rohypnol" advice and wisdom they give to us.

Unfortunately, I don't live in my mother's house or city or state, so my "Mama Wanda" Tweets (I can't believe I just wrote that...) would probably be too few and far between to maintain a large number of followers.

But Justin's dad provides him with a healthy supply of (as he calls it) "shit." And while I don't think they quite live up to my mother referring to the pouilly fuisse she drank at a restaurant as "pussy wine," I'm hooked on Justin's Dad's shit.

Well... You know what I mean.

Check out all of Justin's Dad's Tweets (Dear God... I wrote that word again...) here.

And many thanks to Steve for introducing me to "Shit My Dad Says." This is EXACTLY what I needed this week!

"If I Could Only Fly"

I'm back.

Last night, I wrote half of a post about my vacation, the difficulty of being back in the South - - a place I love and yet, a place where I've never felt like I fit in.

I've always felt "other" there. Always.

But just now, a little girl on Oprah (a "mermaid girl," so watch your back Wendy Williams, because Oprah's bringin' back the crazy) brought up, out of the blue, that her parents are separated and in the process of getting a divorce.

The audience laughed. The father, though, said what every child of divorced parents wants to hear, regardless of their age - - that he and his wife had agreed to remain friends and that their daughter was the most important thing.

And then the mother looked at the daughter and said, "We're still what?," and the daughter said, "Ohana." The mother replied, "Always."

Oprah asked what it meant, and the little girl said...

"Ohana means family and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten."

Which is why I'm crying. Crying so hard. Because I love my family so much. And I wish I fit in more, was more like them.

But I also know, like this little girl knows, that my family won't ever leave me behind or forget me. Ever. No matter what I do or how different I am.

Yeah. It was one Hell of an emotional vacation. And I wish I was still there. So much.


P.S. If you don't know the song that shares the title of this post, listen to it. It's one of my favorite songs and explains exactly how I feel right now. And often.

"All We Hear Is Radio Gaga"

I'm watching the MTV Video Music Awards.

Yes, it's one of the 7 signs, but two things...

1) Kanye West is a petty, pathetic, rude, annoying prick for interrupting Taylor Swift's acceptance speech.

But then again, Kanye has always shown us that he is a petty, pathetic, rude, annoying prick, so I guess it's just another day in the life of this particular celebrity fuckwit.

2) My mother gave the quote of the night and perhaps of the year when she said...

"What in the Hell is a
'Lady Gaga?'"

God, I love my mother. Now, somebody - - what in the Hell IS a "Lady Gaga?" Because I just don't friiggin' get it.

"I Can't Hear You, I'm Trying to Enjoy Myself!"

I, unfortunately, can't be with my mother on Mother's Day - - my brother, Jeff, is meeting her in Chattanooga today - - but here's my favorite John Roberts video all about Mother's Day.

Wish I could be with you, Mama. I love you.

"Yes, It's Hard to Believe, Almost Frightening to Conceive..."

The Facebook Pic Bandit strikes again!

This time, via my friend Tiffany. She posted this picture from our college production of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

Tiffany played Lucy. It's frighteningly obvious what role I played.

Why my friend Laura French is dressed like Blossom in this picture is beyond me. But not many women can pull off that hat AND a fanny pack. Well done, Laura. Well done.

P.S. When my mother saw this show, her response to my performance as Charlie Brown (and especially Charlie Brown losing the big baseball game) was...

"You didn't have to act this one, did you?"

A parent who tells you how similar you are to a balding loser with bad fashion sense. Good times!

"We Three Elves of Tennessee Are..."

Which one of my family's three Elf Yourself videos is the funniest?

Ah One... (Me workin' my K-Tel Disco moves!)

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Ah Two... (My Mother kickin' it Country style!)

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Ah Three... (My Brother Jeff doing The Charleston!)

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Ah Three! They're all funny, but Jeff doing the Charleston makes me pee! 

Merry Christmas from The Family, y'all!

"I Pick Up Everything But Boys and Money"

One of my mother's co-workers hosts a Halloween party every year and she kindly sends me pictures of Mama's always hilarious and creative costumes.

This one might stump you, but when I tell you what she is, you'll love it.

She's static cling.

One of a kind. I adore it. And her.

P.S. When I received this picture tonight, it reminded me that one of my first posts was about my mother going to this Halloween party. Two years ago.

Which means we're just a few days past my blog's second birthday. What's that called? A blogoversary? 

I wonder if blogoversaries are celebrated like birthdays. With spankings. I hope so. 

But just two spankings? That's no good. That'll just piss me off...

"Stephen, Don't Take a Picture of This"

One last, little piece of Hilton Head fun, as the temperature in Chicago plunges into the 40's and my skin returns to its usual "Crypt Keeper" white.

Mama thought I was taking a picture, not a little video clip. So, I captured about 39 seconds of pure, unfiltered Wanda. The first sentence out of her mouth says it all...

Her birthday is tomorrow. She'll be 61 years old. Happy birthday, Mama.

P.S. If she finds out that I posted this video on YouTube, I may not live to see another birthday, so let's keep it quiet, okay?

"Some Beach, Somewhere..."

As promised, a few pics from my recent vacation in Hilton Head, SC....

I try never to post pictures that flaunt my skin's resemblance to chalk, but without this picture, you'll look at the pics of me at the end of our trip and think, "He's so pasty."  Yeah. It sucks.

My brother may have gotten up every morning around 5:30 a.m. so that he could watch the sun rise over the ocean, but my vacation consisted of...

Sleep till 10:00 a.m. (or later if possible), have a large breakfast of Southern fried cooking, shove myself into my board shorts, apply a ton of spf, help carry our four tons of gear to the beach, sit under the umbrella, read, listen to my iPod, fall asleep, swim in the ocean, pee in the ocean, walk back to the room, vegetate, have a large dinner, vegetate some more, go to bed.

Rinse and repeat.  That's how I roll.

In the middle of all of that, I took a ton of pictures...

****

Here's Mama in the ocean.  

With her signature seashell visor and purple innertube.  So cute.

****

And here's my brother Jeff on the beach.  As requested.  You're welcome.

****

And here's the three of us at our new favorite restaurant in Hilton Head - - One Hot Mama's!

We picked it strictly for the name.

****

We parked right beside the restaurant's van.  

Check out the bottom right-hand corner.

****

I love this so hard.

Reminds me of a drag queen I saw once in Atlanta.

****

This is possibly the cutest picture of my mother and my brother that has ever been taken.

It's rather "Dancing with the Stars," 

but that makes sense since they OWNED the Apache Dance on this trip.

****

I love this picture of Mama.  So peaceful.  So happy.  

I wish we could live there all year round.

Currently, the temperature in Chicago is nearly forty degress below what the temperature was in Hilton Head on the day I took this picture.  Two weeks ago.

Anybody know of any jobs in the Hilton Head area for a bald, musical theatre loving, fanboy with a kinky sex drive and possibly a live-in mother?  

"Apache! Jump On It, Jump On It, Jump On It!"

I'm leaving to join the touring cast of Mamma Mia at 3160 for the sound check for tonight's Season of Concern benefit.

I wish I had a little time to post some of the pictures I took on last week's vacation with my mom and my brother, but since I don't, how about a little video teaser?

This is my mother and my brother in their version of a dance I had never heard of till Jeff introduced it to me and my mom last week - - Apache (Jump On It) by the Sugarhill Gang.

Apparently, this is the new Chicken Dance at weddings these days. God help us...



I love my mother's change of choreography the third time around. She doesn't do the turn and instead twirls both arms inward. When I mentioned that I liked her little change, she said...

"Oh Hell, I was tired."

As always, less is more. Unless you're Cher.

"Kiss Me and Smile For Me"

I'm flying back home to Knoxville today.  My mom is picking me up at the airport and tonight, I'm having dinner with my Dad and my stepmother somewhere downtown.

Then tomorrow, Mama and I drive to Atlanta, pick up my brother and it's on to Hilton Head, SC for our annual family vacation.

This is us last July.  I haven't seen my family since Christmas.  It's been way too long and I can't wait.

But I have a few surprises in store for those of you who read this blog regularly.  Believe it or not, there will be Fratboy Friday entries while I'm away.  And a TMI Tuesday.  Of sorts.

So be sure to check backwhile I'm away.  And wish me safe travel to and from Chicago.

Much love.  (And thanks to Aaron for staying at my place while I'm out of town.  Enjoy the porn.)

"What's the Story, Morning Glory?"

I just got off the phone with my mother.

I didn't mean to, but I got her fired up about everything from Gov. Palin to Old Navy...

...Apparently, she had to bitch slap someone over the phone when they claimed she hadn't paid her Old Navy bill - - a bill she only has from buying gift cards for me and my brother...

...Whoever this poor rep is, I doubt they were ready for the myriad of four letter words accompanying the verbal slugfest that Mama Wanda gave to them...

...Then, she started in on my stepmother.

Mama wanted to know what my father sees in her and I said what I always say - - "She's got big tits."

Mama then wanted to know what my stepmother sees in him, saying (and this is a word for word quote)...

"He ain't got no dick that he can be proud of. He's got a little, tiny, skinny-assed dick!"

Mama has a lyrical way of cutting through the bullshit.

Oh and by the way, my father and I are not alike. At all. I'm serious.

P.S. No my mother is not Wanda Jackson, but these images are too fabulous not to post.

"The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree"

I just picked up my cell phone to call Philip and somehow dialed my mother's cell phone number.

I'm not quite sure how this happened or what I was thinking while I was dialing. My mother and Philip couldn't be any more different if they tried. And you can tell Philip isn't a member of my family because he can eat carbs and still remain thin, for God's sake!!!

My mother is known for calling the wrong people like this. She's done it to me several times, so when she answered and I told her that I meant to call Philip, she said...

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it son?"

I told her no, said I was sorry for calling so late and wished her sweet dreams.

She said, "Bye little apple."

I stupidly replied, "Bye big apple."

I say "stupidly," because the phrase isn't "The apple doesn't fall far from the... uhhh... bigger apple," after all.

Mother corrected me in a tone that seemed to say "He ain't all that bright, God love him, but he's mine" by saying...

"Stephen, I'm the tree."

P.S. For those of you who haven't seen this picture before, this is me and my mom. Taken the day I was born.

A Text Message from my Mom

My mother has learned how to text message.

I might have considered this a sign of the apocalypse, but there is nothing but absolute beauty in what she texted to me today.

This is the message I received from her...

"You are the wind beneath my wings.

"You keep me going.

"Love, Mom x o"

If there is anything more beautiful than that, I don't quite know what it is.

My Cuss-O-Meter Cuss Rating

Bill in Exile (Cuss Level: 30.3%) and Voenix Rising (Cuss Level 7.5%) introduced me to "The Blog & Website Cuss-O-Meter." I just couldn't resist finding out ARE YOU THERE, BLOG's Cuss Level.

I thought my love of four letter words just might overload and short-circuit the Cuss-O-Meter. Like gaydar at the Tony Awards. Well, almost...

While I didn't overload the Cuss-O-Meter, it's no shock that my "Cuss Level" is high...

...And let me say that if I have offended any of you with my use of blue language, please accept my apology. And lick my sweaty, pendulous ball sac. As a friend...

...but after revealing my "High 35%" level, the Cuss-O-Meter informed me that...

"This is 250% MORE than other
websites who took this test."

Really? I cuss 250% MORE?!? Come on. What other websites took this test?

"EverythingYouWantedToKnowAboutSandiPattyButWereAfraidToAsk.com?"
"Marie Osmond's Doll Blog?" That homophobic "eHarmony?"

Well, it's official. I'm a high level potty mouth. Mama is going to be so proud.

Seriously. No joke. She will be.

I learned the brazen, yet subtle art of cussing from my mother. She's the David Mamet of East TN.

She once told me about a fight she had with my uncle over the phone one day at her office. Surrounded by soft-spoken, Southern, church-going women in all the nearby cubicles, my mother began to verbally tear my uncle a new asshole after he bitchily asked if the reason she was getting so upset with him was because her Prozac hadn't kicked in yet. As he put it...

"Wanda, have you had your PILL today?"

This caused my mother to scream...

"No, I have NOT had my FUCKING PILL, you sorry son of a bitch, but one of these days, they're going to take me off of those pills and I JUST MIGHT KILL YOU!"

As she slammed the phone down, a woman in the cubicle beside her very calmly said...

"My goodness, I've never heard such language."

My mother looked her dead in the eye and shouted...

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

There. You've heard it."

Taking that into consideration, a Cuss Level of "High 35%" seems less dirty and more Debbie Boone, doesn't it?

"Who Threw That Ham at Me?!?"

I just came back from the bank and my computer's screen saver was going through a slide show of my saved pictures.

And I'm sure that the cleaning staff find some of them VERY interesting when I leave my computer on overnight...

This picture of my mother popped up and it made me smile.

Nothing says summer quite like my mother in the ocean with that look on her face.

P.S. That's my brother behind her. Don't ask what he's doing back there. We're Southerners. You don't want to know.

Say My Name, Say My Name

This is my mother, Wanda.

Every year, my mother, my brother and I vacation in Hilton Head, SC. For a full week, you can find my mother in the middle of the ocean sporting that green visor, laying back inside that innertube.

She's always self conscious about her size. As we walk from our beach umbrella to the water, she always asks me if people are laughing at, as she says, "the fat woman in the innertube."

I'm sure there are a few who see her and giggle...

...there are hateful assholes anywhere and everywhere...

...but some men like a gal with a fuller figure.

Check out this picture I found...

Any woman who can get a man to write her name on the back of his Speedo has got it goin' on!

Atta girl, mom. Atta girl.

Ten Things I Gotta Do Cause I'm Notorious J*O*E's Bitch

It's true. I'll admit it. As of right now, I'm the notorious J*O*E's bitch.

Jealous much?

He tagged me for this meme...

...and will somebody PLEASE tell me what the Hell a "meme" is? Why do we call it that? I just understood why we call them "blogs" a little while ago. I'm slow. I need help...

...so, as his bitch, I must comply and answer these questions. Here are my answers to...

the ten things meme

1. When you were born, how much did you weigh?

I have no clue. Not a one.

I could ask Mama how much I weighed at birth, but on my birthday this year, she kept insisting I was born in '71 and not '70. Finally I had to say...

"Mama, where you there?!?"

So, I may not know my birth weight, but damn if I wasn't a cute little fucker.

You've all seen the picture of me and my mom taken the day I was born, so I'll post this one, which I think is from my first Christmas when I was about 11 months old.

Eleven month olds are this big, right? I don't want anybody thinking I was a Fatty Boombalatty when I was a kid.

I mean, I WAS a Fatty Boombalatty, but I don't want you to KNOW that!!!


2. What's your sugar poison?

The honest answer is, "Any thing with sugar that I can get my hands on."

For awhile, I was partial to Peanut M&M's. And recently, I've had massive binges (without the purge) on those Limited Edition Elvis Peanut Butter & Banana Creme Reese's Cups and those damn Starbucks Penguin Cookies (which, by the way, can be found NOWHERE in the city of Chicago at this time because stupid Starbucks is SOLD OUT OF THEM!!!).

But right now, I'll take anything with sugar. Even sugar. On it's own. Right out of the bag.

Don't judge me.


3. If you had to choose between meat and cheese for the rest of your life, which would you choose? Then be specific.

You give me two options, say "choose one" and then tell me to "be specific"?!? That's more fucked up than my last relationship. Geez...

Between meat and cheese, there really is no choice for a Southerner. It's meat. All the way.

And as Paula Deen says when she's preparing her meals...

"Be sure to really get in there and rub your meat."

Words to live by, eh?


4. What, is your opinion, is the worst song ever?

The first thing that flashed in my mind is that wretched score from WICKED. I don't know it well enough to tell you what song is the worst...

...when forced to see or listen to that show, I break out in green Idina Menzel hives... it ain't prety...

...so I'll just say whatever song from WICKED has the following lyrics...

"Nessa. Oh, Nessa, I've got something to confess-a."

THAT is the worst song ever.


5. Who was your favorite teacher growing up and why?

Hands down, Mrs. Nesbitt. Why? See here and here.


6. What personal activity, when performed in public, bothers you the most?

Talking on your cellphone - - LOUDLY - - on the bus or the the train.

I don't need to know what you and your sister are thinking of getting dear old Dad for Christmas and I don't care that your boyfriend would rather watch 'Da Bears on tv than fuck you. He'd probably want to throw you down like a bitch in heat if you would just GET OFF THE DAMN PHONE ONCE IN AWHILE.

And a close second are those people on their cell phones - - talking loudly or quietly - - who insist on continuing their conversation while the clerk at the Walgreen's is scanning their items and trying to complete the transaction or while the waitress is at their table trying to take their order.

Every time I see those people, I want to do that Sarah Jessica Parker shout from that episode of SEX AND THE CITY where the business man on the street bumps into her and just keeps on walking on without saying anything. SJP whips around and screams...

"Oh, you're so busy! YOU'RE SO BUSY!"

7. Ok, there's a $50 bill lying on the ground. You pick it up. Dumbfounded by your incredible luck, what do you selfishly purchase?

Oh, the selfish purchase. I love that kind of purchase.

I would rush out and buy the Ginch Gonch Bull Rider Brief for $27.

I would buy it for the brief.

And hopefully, for a more revealing picture of this model.

The remaining $23? Lube.


8. Do you have a recurring nightmare? If so, explain.

Yes. I have a recurring nightmare about spiders. Check out the bonus from this TMI Tuesday for the details.


9. Name one place on Earth you've never been, but vow to visit at least once.

Berlin.

Hot boys and even hotter sex.

You have not lived until you've watched German gay porn.

It's a religious experience.

Well... there's a lot getting worshipped, anyway...


10. You notice that question #9 wasn't really a question. You feel smart for catching such a small detail. What else can you do really well that reminds you how smart you are?

I'm not that smart. I just memorize certain things extremely fast. Movie quotes mostly.

To prove that that doesn't mean I'm smart, I'm horrible at remembering names.

And I'm not quite off book for Lyle. And we open on Sunday. Good times.


I rarely if ever pass on these memes, but I think I'd like to make Shirley Heezgay and Doug my bitches for this one. And anyone else who'd like to be my bitch can answer these, too.

Oooo, fun. Now I get to see who wants to be my bitch. Thank you, Joe!

TMI Tuesday

Even though Halloween was LAST week and these questions would have been more appropriate LAST Tuesday, here's TMI Tuesday's Halloween Edition.

(Please look for TMI Tuesday's Thanksgiving Edition to appear sometime next March.)

1. Do you believe in ghost? If so have you every seen one?

I feel like I should answer that question like Bert Lahr in THE WIZARD OF OZ...

"I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks.
I do, I do, I do, I do, I DO believe in spooks!"

Cause I do. And while I've never seen one, I have had ghosts make themselves known in my presence.

For instance, a few Christmases ago, I was standing back and admiring the Christmas tree I had decorated with my ex and was concentrating on the clear ornament that had a simple red ribbon inside it. I bought it the year that my friend and mentor Lemmie Smith died and I was thinking of him when suddenly, the entire Christmas tree started falling towards me.

I grabbed it and quickly set it upright again and only one ornament had fallen off and was broken. You guessed it - - it was the one with the AIDS ribbon. Rob said he was so sorry about the broken ornament, but I told him not to worry. That broken ornament was Lemmie's way of telling me...

"Girl, stop being so fucking morose!
Grab a cocktail and let's go watch a strip show!"

I know Lemmie was right beside me at that moment. I know it.


2. What’s the scariest movie you ever saw?

I don't know the name of it, but it was a movie with a bunch of short scenes and one of them had a man opening up a letter written in blood that ended with, "You know you really have no..." and then he unfolded the rest of the letter and there was a human heart at the bottom... still pumping.

Cheesy and stupid? Yes, but I was away at camp - - which I hated - - and even though I begged the counselors to let me be excused from watching the movie because I really didn't like scary movies, they said no. And I had nightmares for months after that.

I'll find those camp counselors one day. It won't be pretty.


3. If you were given a house that was free would you accept it if it was haunted?

No, because I am not the typical stupid white person as they are depicted in the movies.

When the house - - THE HOUSE!!! - - whispers to me "Get out," I get the fuck out!

I don't need blood in the bathtub or flies swarming on one wall to convince me to leave. All I need is one whisper and I'm gone!


4. If you were given a house that was free would you accept it if the last person had been murdered in it?

No again. You can make fun of me for being superstitious but I can take people laughing at me WHEN I'M ALIVE. What I can't take is being murdered. Especially if, right before I was murdered I thought to myself...

"This is EXACTLY what happened to the last guy who lived here.
I'm a fuckin' IDIOT to have moved in here!!!"

5. What was your most favorite costume you wore for Halloween?

I remember this question from a previous TMI Tuesday and I'm simply going to repeat my answer from that day...

Even though it was made of poster board - - one piece of poster board - - and was, therefore, severely two-dimensional, I LOVED the costume that my mother made for me when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade and really wanted to be Aslan for Halloween.

I'm sure that, from the front, I looked like a chipmunk who stuck his paw in a light socket and from any other angle, I looked like a strange child wearing a carpet on his body and some cut up poster poster board on his head...

But my mama made it for me and I remember walking through the hallways of Powell Elementary School with an attitude that said...

"You SO wish you were wearing this. But you're not. I am. Suffer bitch."

Bonus (as in optional): What’s your most memorable Halloween memory?

My brother, my cousin Rhonda and I were Trick-or-Treating in my neighborhood. My father always went along with us and stood at the curb.

I believe I was Batman (shock), Jeff was Mickey Mouse and Rhonda was a Devil of some sort. No theme to link the three of us together. We didn't need themes back then. It was the 70's. Everyone was high.

We walked up to one house, rang the doorbell and a cute, perky girl of about 16 answered the door. We yelled "Trick or treat!" and the girl at the door screamed bloody murder.

She screamed as if we had actually frightened her within an inch of her life with our costumes. She screamed and then she fainted.

The three of us slowly looked at each other. We didn't know what to do. We looked back at the passed out body of the girl and inched our heads closer to her when suddenly, an arm that looked like it belonged to the Wolfman grabbed the girl and slowly began to drag her limp body out of the door frame.

We were frozen. We couldn't move. We watched as her body was dragged out of view and then - - BAM!!! - - the door slammed in our faces!

We screamed and yelled and nearly peed our pants as we raced back to my father who was standing on the curb laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face.

I don't remember anything else about that Halloween, but Trick-or-Treating at that house will be with me for the rest of my life!

Mama's 60th (And First) Birthday Party

As promised, here are a few pictures from my mother's 60th surprise birthday party on Sunday, October 7th.


There's Mama with my brother Jeff behind her on the left side of the picture.

Mama's sister Juanita is behind her and that is my cousin Rhonda on the far right. She's the one who was born on the same exact day that I was born. And that's Rhonda's little girl Andrea peaking over my mother's shoulder.


Mama looks so happy in these pictures.


When we were driving home at the end of the party, she told me something that shocked me.


We were chatting about the party and about how her sister Geneva's house was filled with family and friends and people who loved her. And then, very calmly she said...

"You know, that was the first birthday party I've ever had."

I couldn't believe it. Her parents never threw her a birthday party. My father never threw her a birthday party. And somehow, in my 37 years as her son, I had never thrown her a birthday party.

I was ashamed that I didn't know that. Ashamed that I had never taken the time to throw her a birthday party and show her how much I love her.

But Mama wasn't blaming me for never having thrown her a party or for not knowing she had never had a party. She was thrilled with the party and was lifted out of the depression that I could tell she had been sitting in for quite some time. As she said...

"You always know exactly what I need, when I need it."

This may have been my mother's first birthday party in her 60 years on this planet, but it will most definitely not be her last.

****

My favorite moment that day came when the party guests had left and it was just Mama, me and Geneva with her family.

Now, understand that my extended family does indeed know that I'm gay, but it is never discussed, never brought up in conversation. As Mama says about Southerners and their ability to deny nearly everything, "If we don't talk about it, it doesn't exist, now does it?"

That said, we were about to leave to share a meal at a local Chinese restaurant and Geneva had some fruit from a fruit tray she bought for the party that she wanted my mother to take home with her.

Geneva didn't want the fruit to go bad in the car while we were at the restaurant, so she thought it might be better to keep the fruit in her refrigerator while we were out. What she said was...

"You wanna just leave the fruit here?"

I looked at Mama and said, "What did she call me?"

Without missing a beat, Mama said, "She called you a fruit."

We smiled and laughed but NOBODY ELSE thought it was funny. They ignored what we had just said. And that made me and Mama laugh even harder.