1) "It hurts to be pretty"
This is because when I turned the ripe ole age of 5, she began giving me home perms. Yep. I was the kindergartner with the kickass hair (so not). The perm solution? Burned my scalp like a motherfucker and would drip in my eyes and burn them too. It hurts to be pretty was momma's answer to all that whining. I was also sent for oral surgery at this age. Know why? I had a split between my teeth. My baby teeth. Yes, I had to have stitches in my mouth so I wouldn't look bad in photos. "It hurts to be pretty" Yay. Even as I type this, it makes me kinda happy cause well I may be just a lil on the vain side myself. Well, can you blame me? Come. On.
In regards to marriage and all things husband. I don't exactly recall the first time I heard this gem, but it was PRIOR to my getting married. Cause, well, this is some important information. Mom always said, don't worry about the first person you marry because that's just practice. I believed that shit. Fer sure. Why else would I have married that asshole? Right? She never had any great Linda-isms about the 2nd marriage but I'm assuming she thought I should have one. I mean, I did. So it must be okay, right? She had no rules, there was no precedent set in reference to the 2nd so I think I'm good here.
3) "It's the fun lane"
This right here is awesome. Mom likes to drive 60mph in the passing lane. You know the left lane? Or the fast lane? Or whatever the hell you wanna call it. You know what it ISN'T? The lane in which you drive 60mph. That? It isn't. The fun lane was named in beautiful downtown ATLANTA. You know Atlanta, right? 6 lanes of crazy motherfuckers driving 90mph through curves of the city. Yep, THAT Atlanta. I almost lost my bowels. The names and the finger flying from the other drives were what really pushed the whole experience over the edge. It was...memorable. Yeah, memorable.
4) "Sick Duck"
Oh, this is a really good one. It's actually two. My dearest Mother and her 3rd husband liked to well, drink. Apparently, one night at the bar, Mommy Dearest got a lil frisky and offered to take the ole hubby out back and take care of his "sick duck" (apparently the words "suck dick" weren't working for her). Sadly, I had to hear this story from that 3rd husband (ewwwwww) and at the time they were kinda on the rocks so I had to ask her? WTF? Why you gettin' busy at the bar if you're gonna leave him? Her reply? You don't have to like someone to give em' a blowjob. True. Good information. Thanks Ma.
5) "No white shoes after Labor Day"
Still, to this day. If someone is wearing white shoes after labor day? She makes fun of them. And, let me tell you. Mommy is NOT a fashion guru. She's a fan of all things sparkly. And shiny. And low-cut. But white shoes in the off season? You will go straight to hell for this infraction. Don't do it. Just don't. And, yes, this RULE has been ingrained in my being. I STILL follow this and we have lived in Florida for 27 fucking years. It's summer all damn year long. Still? No white shoes, kids. Not off season, k? I also STILL change my closet for the season. In Florida. Yep. That shit sticks with ya.
6)"No Italian food on the Holiday"
This is totally fucking bizarre. My mother was not, by any means, living in the lap of luxury while growing up but there must have been some huge class separation going on...know why? One time I suggested we have Lasagna for Christmas dinner. Why not, right? We lived in Chicagoland, my Mother's very favorite food was Italian so what'sthefuckingproblem? Oh no, we CANNOT have Italian food on Christmas because when she was growing up? The poor family in the neighborhood ate pasta on Christmas. SERIOUSLY? I was young when I heard this. Like a kid young. Like 7 or 8. I thought poor people ate pasta for holidays. Child abuse, I tell you. Child abuse. Shhhh...I've made Lasagna more than once on Christmas. Don't tell, k?
I have so many more lil stories from the DQofB but I can't tell them all now. Why? Cause, well, I have to save some for later. No worries. Linda-isms will be revisited. Many times. You can't make this shit up. It's awesome. Am I worried about her seeing this and getting mad? Nah. She doesn't read my FB page or my blog. "It's too many words" she says. Ayup, I'm safe. Unless you tell her, so don't, k? If you do? I won't be able to share any more of her stories and that would suck.
So don't. Tell her. Thanks. - PP