I hate calling my mom’s house. For a long time, they couldn’t afford a new cordless phone, so the battery lasted about 10 minutes at best, before they abruptly lost connection. Those were the good ole days. Then I ruined it by feeling sorry for them and getting them new phones for Christmas.

Sometimes I think it’s almost worth it to get her an unlimited texting plan. Her texts are often difficult to interpret but it’s still better than calling her.

Recently she changed her voice mail message to a name that’s not hers. I suspect it’s to confuse bill collectors.

So before I wrote this blog, I called my sister and asked her why she also hated calling mom’s house. She listed these exact reasons before I even told her what mine were. Sometimes if mom has called both of us, we decide “who’s gonna take one for the team.” The following reasons are why we divide up the duty of returning her call:

1. The chickens in the background. Let me re-phrase that, mainly the roosters who constantly scream/crow. Both my mom and brother sit outside a lot when they call and the roosters will be 2 feet away, crowing literally in the phone. They cluck, and get in chicken fights and all this ridiculous shit in the background. I can’t deal…

2. The dogs in the background. Daisy…I hate that dog. She’s a bastard who tries to attack everyone, and the second she sees or hears anything, she barks. Then usually no matter who you’re talking to, you hear “SHUT UP DAISY!” But it’s not like they’re polite enough to move the phone before they yell. They scream into your ear, deafening you with dog discipline. Or when Daisy walks across my mom’s stomach and she yells in pain into the phone. “OW! DAISY! LORD ALMIGHTY! HEAVY ASS DOG!”

3. I don’t like to play the game “Guess-what-your-grandfather-did-today?” It’s not a fun game because it’s so difficult to win. More than likely it involves accidentally setting something on fire, throwing a childish tantrum, or dumping some kind of clearance-bought baked good directly onto the floor and chuckling as dogs devour it.  Or hearing about his doctor’s visits. Those are pretty entertaining because he doesn’t want to bathe, and doesn’t want to change out of his month-old clothes to see the doctor. Then he complains and does this agonizing “ooooooooo….ooooooooooo….ooooooo” sound the entire time he’s getting ready. He’s like a smelly ghost. “Oooooooo, who goes there? Oooooooooooo I don’t like hygiene!” Once he’s at the doctor’s office in front of the young nurses, he suddenly no longer needs his cane. But once he’s back home, he’ll walk across the room, fake stumbling so he can get someone to feel sorry for him as he pretends he’s pathetic. DRAMA 24/7.

4. I can’t get my mom off the phone. She tells me the schedule of her day or if the day is over, I hear every detail of that particular day. Where she ate, if one of her chickens got eaten by a dog, if her arthritis bothered her, which soap she used from the Bath & Body Works collection for her shower, who was on Dr. OZ…you get the idea. I will often call her to tell her one simple fact, and it snowballs into what she’s cooking for the church potluck and how she made it. Or then number 3 from this list takes effect. My mom has the lamest sense of humor on earth, so she’ll take  a few stabs at making jokes, and the unfortunate fact is, I’m more entertained by my wiener dog rubbing his ass against his dog bed. She is retired, and I understand, but sometimes I really need to run. It gets to the point I have to actually be mean. I have hung up on her before. Damn it felt good to be a gangster.

5. HER DAY IS ALWAYS WORSE THAN YOURS. It doesn’t matter if you had a miscarriage or you lost a limb, she will top you in the misery category. You don’t feel well? She’s not felt well in a month. Your “check engine light” is on, her front bumper fell off. You have $28 to last you until Tuesday? She has $.37 in her checking account…at all times. Last week, her guest bathroom toilet fell over. It literally fell OVER onto of the floor and physically was not upright. My brother-in-law got high, went to her house, and fixed it. My brother’s tire was slashed by his ex-girlfriend a few weeks ago before the toilet fell over. There’s never a dull moment.

So there you have it, those are the reasons why I hate calling my mom’s house.  And now for some prime top notch artistry…