Interview With My Mom

I just came across this file on my computer. I think it’s from an idea I had two-ish years ago to interview my mom on my birthday. I never posted it, but here it is now, a few years late.

Tell me about the day of my birth.

It was August 5th, two weeks past my due date, and I was getting really annoyed.

Kay. Bad start.

Sorry, I drove myself to the hospital to be induced, and as I lumbered up the stairs to the lobby, my water broke and you started to emerge. The resident on call ignored my request to re-insert you so that I could be given an epidural. This left me no option except to push you out as quickly as possible, and you shot out like a projectile-

Stop. Ok, Skip ahead. What about my childhood?

There was the abusive Norwegian nanny.

Right, Guri.

Yup. There was the time you fried your hand on the electric burner of the stove during a wild party at which there was no adult sober enough to drive you to the hospital, you know, the usual kid stuff.

This explains so much.

Oh, and the time my mom caught you in the basement at the age of four, playing doctor with Shelley Peterson from nursery school. Your grandmother was shocked, but your dad and I attributed the incident to healthy curiosity.

I’m still pimping, by the way.

Your grammar school days proved to be the academic high point of your educational experience. After taking a second stab at kindergarten you hit your scholastic stride. In second grade, during show and tell, you told your class that your father was at the doctor’s, having a blasectomy. Your teacher was upset and we were called in for a conference.  When you got home that afternoon, we beat the crap out of you. Remember that?

Yup, I never mixed up my V’s and Bl’s again.

There was the homoerotic song you performed at the talent show with John Demartino.

“Why Can’t Me and Johnny do Butt Butt?”

Right.

Kay. Anything else?

Your middle school years can be reduced to the passage of time, marked by the occasional acquisition of WWF action figures. I think you got taller. You don’t like to talk about it.

Correct.

Happy Birthday, Mom

I had no idea what to get my mom for her birthday. And I landed on the idea that I should think about what my mom loves. She loves her kids. But she already has 6 of them, so that was out. She loves running, but there’s not much you need for that other than legs, which she fortunately has.

Then I remembered she loves writing. In fact, it was my mom’s passion for writing that made me want to be a writer. My mom has her own tumblr where she writes much more frequently, and with much higher quality, than I do. So I thought it might be nice (and also free)  to give her a bunch of new followers. In conclusion, follow my mom’s blog. She’s much better at this than I am.

Awesome Things I got to do in LA

In no particular order (Other than most to least favorite.)

- Sat on a roof with a glass of Bourbon and had the best talk ever with my good friend, Mike.

- Saw the sun set in Santa Monica.

- Met a ton of wonderful people. including but not limited to Heather, Big Dog, Samantha, Offer, Jackie, Greg and Jessie.

- Smoked a blunt and danced to Hall and Oates with a porn star. (Not linking but if you’re curious you can google Kristina Rose.)

- Took a tour of the American Apparel factory. Everyone should buy their clothes, they have such a thoughtful and generous operation going on there.

- Ate a delicious In-N-Out burger.

- Tailgated a USC game.

- Ate lots of Avocados.

- Made a video with the This College Life guys. I’ve been a big fan of their series pretty much since they started, and I think the video turned out great- check it out here.

- A lot of other stuff I forgot about or can’t mention. Which is saying a lot considering I told you guys about the porn star…

Saturday Night

To set this up: Jeff “Rosie” Rosenberg is one of my best friends and has also been dating my sister for the past two years or so. He’s the most chilled out person I know

Proof: On Saturday we somehow found out Jeff was wearing jeans, long johns under the jeans, mesh shorts under the long johns, and under the mesh shorts… another pair of mesh shorts. While we were all cracking up about it someone said to me, “This guy is gonna marry your sister!” And I said, genuinely, “I hope so.”