The Muthas
Happy Mutha's Day to all the mutha's out there.
Smoked ribs, grilled chicken , corn-on-the-cob, pasta and fruit salads are on the Mother's Day menu today. Cheryl's family is coming over for dinner.
I'm okay when a friend offers to pick up a tab for drinks or dinner, but not if he/she does it every time. Saturday was Cheryl's birthday. We went out for dinner with another couple, friends she's known for many years. Al announced beforehand that dinner was on him. Cheryl told me to just accept it. Okay, fine.
After dinner we went to a club to see a band. I told them drinks were on me. No problem. But Al secretly told the waitress, under the cover of loud music, to give him the tab. I was not okay with that but let it go. His justification was that I was drinking tonic & lime, no alcohol, and they drank more than us. That didn't fly with me.
I appreciate generousity but there's a point when it can be uncomfortable. Of course the extreme opposite is far worse.
Have you ever known someone so cheap they border on dishonesty? Maybe they don't just reach the border, they crossed the line long ago. They take advantage of every freebie, dodge their share of any expense, steal if possibe, often at the expense of friends. I've known a few people like this. Eventually, they get called out.
I once told a coworker after a round of golf, many we had in a company golf league, that he had to buy the first round of drinks. I explained that everyone knows he leaves before it's his turn to buy. He did it every week. I said, "Your so god damn cheap I don't trust you." I embarrassed the hell out of him. Some fellow golfers patted me on the back saying, "I wish I said that. He's been beating me on drinks for years." It's their own damn fault for not speaking up.
Al called Cheryl this morning and said, "I hope Don wasn't mad." No, I'm not mad. It's okay when a friend buys drinks and dinner but I'd prefer we take turns. I don't go out with friends for a freebie.
Nancy flew to Los Angeles this morning to have brunch at Jeffrey's fraternity. The frat brutha's invited their mutha's to UCLA for their Mother's Day brunch. I hope they hired a caterer. I can't imagine what frat boys cook.
Her other son, James, has made no mention of Mother's Day. I will remind him to call mom but expect little response. It is what it is.
I sent my mom a basket from Harry & David. Those Jewish boys have tasty stuff. I hope she likes it. I called earlier to find her number is disconnected. I'll call my sister to find out what's up. Maybe I dialed wrong, but I doubt it. You'd think she'd tell us.
My family is weird. I don't believe I've blogged on that part of my life. There's not much to say about it except there's not much to say.
As a special Muthu's Day treat, here's a picture of one of my favorite muthas......Frank Zappa. I warned you bathroom humor was coming.
I loaned my Zappa CDs to a coworker years ago and never got them back. I should have known better. He was a cheap mutha but I didn't know about the untrustworthy side of his character until it was too late.