This whole Obama birther thing has me remembering that over 30 years ago my mother became obsessed with our birth certificates. She paid for extra originals. She had copies made of those extra originals. We scoured downtown L.A. to find a place that could laminate and shrink copies down to identification card size.
My pre-teen self asked my mom what she was doing and she vaguely explained that it was important to be prepared to show the birth certificate. In that way, I think she was some form of an original birther. She knew someone, somewhere, sometime would make an issue of it. That time has not come for me, and when it does, I better be able to find that crazy orange purse containing all of the family’s important documents. Until then, I’ll have to watch my mom be self-satisfied in knowing that if she was Obama’s mama, he would have had lots of copies of that thing available years ago.
I’m reading Tina Fey’s Bossypants and I believe it’s provided me with a new life mantra, “no matter how funny someone’s writing sample is, if they are too talkative or needy or angry to deal with in the middle of the night by the printer, steer clear.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
“Hey, you know that pill I told you about for your dropped foot? Well, I got the name wrong, it’s Lyrica, not Levitra. No se te vaya levantar otra cosa.”
“If what you ate during pregnancy determined what your kid looked like, mine would be a ramen noodle.”
My favorite part of the spring religious season is listening to people recount the stops on their path toward peace with the idea of faith.
“I remember my mom used to take us to confession as kids, but we were kids, we didn’t have anything to confess. So, after ‘confession’ we’d compare notes on how many prayers we’d gotten and then go shove our fingers into all the candles, just so we’d have something to talk to the priest about in next week’s session.”
. . . but if you’re talking to yourself, feel free to roam the hallways.
On looking through old high school pictures.
Me: Why did you wear the same clothes to school on picture day for three years?
Vero: It was a uniform!!