It’s So My Mom.

So perhaps this is TMI, but I felt it had to be shared.

This is how men help turn women into their mothers. This amorphous globule you see here.

Now, I’m not gonna say whodunit, but I am going to cop to having logged frighteningly whiney and bitchy complaints to other rooms about it. So it obviously wasn’t me.

And because whoever may have created that masterpiece might possibly come across this post and protest at its, uh, translucency, here you go: Yes, I fart a lot in the apartment, and I’m messy, and a horrible housekeeper, and I scream at the other tenant in my humble abode, probably more than necessary. And earlier this week when I pounded on the door so hard you thought it was Death, I was possibly overreacting to your lack of answering my phone calls to help me with the groceries. So I’m certainly no saint either.

But you gotta take some credit for that. :)