My mom loves celebrity gossip. She can't tell you when Columbus sailed the ocean blue, but she can tell you when Jett Travolta died. She's magnetically drawn to fake words like Brangelina and cover stories that try to get to the bottom of why Tara Reid's stomach looks like skin origami. So while she's getting her nightly fix of E! News, I naturally think it's the perfect time to have a conversation with her about butt plugs (am I the only one who sees Ryan Seacrest and immediately thinks butt plugs?):
Me: "Did you know you can buy a butt plug that looks like Tom Cruise?" My tone is rather nonchalant, as if I just asked her if she knew that you can buy pre-packaged swiss cheese sliced extra thin.
She drops her crochet needles and looks at me. She's not sure if this is a joke because telling her believable lies is something I've done all my life. Like the time I told her peanut butter would make her breasts grow larger. She survived a whole week of that torture before I admitted I was kidding and she could stop eating it by the spoonful and slathering herself in peanut oil.
Mom: "You're kidding, right?"
Me: "No, I'm totally serious. You can shove anything up your ass these days .... Tom Cruise, Santa Claus, Buddha ... "
Mom: "That's ridiculous!"
I smile a little and nod my head as if I agree with her. But I'm not quite done with her yet. You see my mother is Catholic and claims to have never masturbated so whenever I can mix sex and religion, I do.
Me: "You can also buy a Virgin Mary dildo."
Mom: "That's horrible!"
Me: "What? You'd prefer the Crucifixion dildo?"
Mom: "You're lying ... that's a sin."
Me: "Jackhammer Jesus."
Me: "It's called Jackhammer Jesus, mom."
Mom: "That's disgusting." She's shaking her head trying to rid herself of the image I've just planted into her mind but she just can't do it. It's a bad seed. Once you hear the words Jackhammer Jesus, your mind automatically pictures Jesus, the cross, the fucking thorns, the Exorcist .....
Me: "Mom, I thought you loved your God. Don't you want to love your God?"
She's still shaking her head and calling me a sinner and stuttering amidst the horror of it all.
Me: "Mom, let's just say somebody did shove Baby Jesus up their ass or touched themselves with the Hand of God ... how many Hail Mary's do you think would cover that?"
Mom: "No..." Now she can't stop blinking as she sees the image of her daughter stumbling drunk through the gates of Hell.
Me: "Ballpark figure?"
Mom: "You didn't...." It's a question, not a statement.
Me: Slight shrug of the shoulder, roll of the eyes, batting lashes .....
Mom: "You better pray tonight."
Me: "Oh I will, mom ... I will ....."