stuff you ask your mom:
- mom where’s my towel
- mom what do we eat for dinner
- mom what’s time is it
- mom where’s my phone
- mom when do you come back
- mom whats day is it
stuff you ask your dad
- dad where is mom
Roomie: That’s not true, you do have to touch her.
Roomie: Because true love’s blind.
Happy 21st anniversary of the time our old black neighbor said “how be’s ya?” to my mother and she said back “I be’s good, how be’s you?” in a jovial manner meant to mimic his jive and then he looked at her and said “no, I said Happy Easter” because he didn’t talk jive, he was just black and my Mom is probably a little bit racist.
I want to know more about you.
No, not the name of your home town, or where you went to school, or whether or not you have brothers and sisters.
I want to know if your brows furrow when you think, and if your eyes change color to match your clothes. I want to know how many pillows you use when you sleep, and the last thought in your head before you do. I want to know what makes you cry, and if you ever pray. I want to know the distance between your shoulder blades, and if they freckle in the sun. I want to know if your hands are rough or smooth, and if there is a downy tuft at the small of your back. I want to know if you sing in the shower, and the scent of your shampoo. I want to know your unspeakable fantasies, and if you ever feel afraid.
But more than anything, I want to know if you want to know about me too.