So I am originally from the 51st state, the cultural wasteland known as Canada. Land of beer, hockey and a place you can flee to if Bush institutes the draft.
I now live in Astoria, Queens with a guy. His name is Astoria guy.
I used to live in the suburbs of Canada with my Mother, Canada Mom.
Canada Mom is originally from a place called Eastern Europe. It's a place where they have accents and sound like this.
I can be a million miles away and the wrath of Canada Mom follows me everywhere I go. I can still hear her say “Ven are you going to make me a Grand-Mutter!”
The pressure gets more intense as I'm in my 30's and all my friends are married and with children.
Canada Mom goes “Look at all your friends are having a baby and vat are you waiting for?” “Ven vill you maken me Grand-Mutter???”
So I'm in bed with this really hot guy. All our clothes are off , It's getting really hot under the sheets, and we are panting and getting down to the kill. We are just at our climax point about to go all the way Ah Aha ahh..All of a sudden it happens “Ven will you make me Grand-MOther?” Well I'm trying but you keep interrupting!!
It's like my biology clock is not even ticking what's killing me. It's the explosive impending voice of doom “Ven Vill you maken me Granmother!”
Canada Mom wants me to have a baby SO badly that I fear the day that I will be in a hospital strapped down and ready to give birth. I can see it now. I will be there in the delivery room , She would wahck the Doctor out of the way and pull the baby out herself! “This is my baby. Get out of my way!!” “ I am the Grand-Mother!”
When I first moved to New York I remember my Mother wishing me good luck and all the best. “If you got to New York, you will be killed.”
The best of course was her vote of confidence to pursuing my career. “Vat you think your going to be the next American Idol?” “Your no idol and your not even American”! (or) “Vat you think that your going to be the next comedy star, your not even funny!”
Canada Mom's voice of reason would actually come in handy when telemarketers would call the house.
“Who is this?” “Who is calling?” “I don't want this garbage you are selling. Don't calling here again.”
Canada Mom didn't take crap form anyone. Though sometimes, it didn't work out for me. Especially when I had boyfriends call the house.
“Hello, can I speak to Annie?” “Who is?” “This is John.” “Annie is Not home don't not calling here again!” “You call here again and I will put gypsy curse on you Stupid!”
Wonder why none of my boyfriends lasted in High school.
