Saturday, December 13, 2008

On Mothers and Stuff

First of all...

The mother is giving us soup for dinner. Again.

Soup is for sick people. Not one of us is sick. Not one of us could even pretend to pass for an invalid. I have a cough, but a little cough has never prevented my healthy American molars from chewing good beef.

And yet she continues to serve us soup. CHICKEN soup.

"But I have chicken," she says.

"Chicken shmicken," says I. I don't care if you ARE a chicken, I'm not sick and that stuff is NOT going to fill me up.

And don't you even start on that "If you don't like what she's serving make it yourself" nonsense. Here I am trying to train up my mother in the way she should go (and when she is old she will not depart from it) and I don't need any of your lip. You just stay out of how I want to raise my parents.

And for another thing...

She wouldn't let me Expound In Great Detail last night in the car. After making us suffer through 10 minutes of Mr. NPR explaining every single song in his nasally voice (she lets HIM expound but not me), because, and I quote, "But there might be more music!", a song finally came on of which I did not approve. The first two verses went something like this:

If I were a little swallow
With my little wings I'd fly
I'd sit by the side of my true love
Until the day I die

"But that's only one verse," you say. Why yes, yes it is. But they were both about the same, so that one counts for both.

In case you're wondering, there were more verses, but I mostly missed the rest because I was busy expounding (before I was rudely cut off in mid-expound).

So anyway, in the first verse he was a sparrow, and in the second he was a swallow, and I get the impression that both of these little flighted animals spend their lives in the same general manner.

Not only was the song sung badly, it was a very boring tune, and it was spent spouting either useless and untrue information about sparrows and swallows, or common knowledge information that any small child could find in a large cardboard book.

  1. The singer was not either a sparrow or a swallow or a feathered being of any kind, unless he wanted to wait until he met me in a dark alley, where I would have tarred and feathered him.
  2. We all know that little birdies fly with their little wings. Why do we need to hear it again, and in such tuneless fashion?
  3. Said little birdies do not sit by the sides of their true loves, until the day they die, unless they happen to have a sudden heart attack while in the nest, which is something that I doubt happens to birds very frequently, simply because they don't have to pay taxes and things like that.
There. I have expounded. And she couldn't stop me.

That's what she gets for making soup all the time.

In other news...

Putting bacon in your eggs is weird. It's like crossing a pig and a chicken.


Nala said...

I LIKE my chicken and pigs crossed. :-D

Too, for the rest of his life? Honestly, the little birdies would have to get hit by a bus. :-P

Enough said.

Thank you for expounding.

Try some buttered bread dipped in your soup. It's good and filling.

In other news, my word verification for this post was "catiala" and I have no idea what it means.

Katie Beth said...

Honestly, I don't necessarily have a huge problem with it. It's just a weird concept. :-P

*ominous tone* That can be arranged.

I ALWAYS have to have bread. It's the only thing that makes it work.

You can make it up. Then tell me what you decide.