Friday, November 13, 2009

So yesterday I'm on the phone with a Mormon Avocado Farmer's Wife (she's the mom of a kid on my kid's basketball team) - we're making small talk about basketball and 10-year-old boys (since, hi, that's pretty much all we have in common) and then she gets quiet for a second.

MAFW: This is kind of awkward...

me: (this can't be good)...

MAFW: I really don't know how to ask this...

me: (in the name of all that is holy, please don't ask if I'm down for some kind of a Big-Love-threesome thing, not that you and your husband aren't attractive, but I just really don't... like you guys that way. Not to mention how it would take copious amounts of alcohol for me to even be able to talk about that without giggling and I know how booze is verboten for y'all)...

MAFW: I'm wondering if you wouldn't mind watching [Mormon Avocado Farmer's Kid] for a couple hours tomorrow after school.

me: (fan-fucking-tastic, that's even worse, that means I have to clean the house, sweep up the tumbleweeds of dog fur, put the toilet paper on the actual roll AND WEAR PANTS... shit, I wonder if she'd consider a threesome instead...)

Labels: adventures in shitty parenting