Conversations with Mom

I suppose I got the inspiration from Leesie (shoutout!), but I can't help but recount a phone call I had with my sainted mother earlier today. If you don't know my mother, she's kind of the Master of Random, which explains a lot about my personality.

phone rings

Mom: "I'm going to see Sex and the City!"
Me: "That movie came out 2 months ago."
Mom: "I don't like to do things quickly."
Me: "Fine, but don't have a diet coke."
Mom: "I'm totally going to have a diet coke."
Me: "You'll stay up all night."
Mom: "I'm hip."
Me: "If you call me at 9 pm looking to go to Martini Park, you can forget it."
Mom: "Martini Park!"
Me: "No, Mom, I'm going out with friends tonight."
Mom: "Well, you have to go somewhere afterwards."
*awkward silence*
Mom: "I'm going to Sex and the City!"

20 minutes later, the phone rings.

Mom: "It's not playing!"
Me: "Shocking."
Mom: "Well, Dillard's is having a clearance or I GUESS I could go see Wall-E."
Me: "It seems like a movie you'd like."
*click*
Me: "Right."

Reeeeeeeeeeebouuuuuuuund

I have this theory. It is the God given right of every woman to have a hot European rebound within 6 months of breaking up with their significant other. I have been mulling this over, in three different countries no less. First of all, sometime in the near future will mark my 4 month singleversary. That leaves a scant 2 months until I have to start acting like an adult and stop trying to have a torrid affair with preferrably a person of Mediterranean descent, but I'd settle for British. Secondly, I have spent about 2-3 weeks surrounded by muscley masogynistic men who want nothing more than for me to embody their perception of a typical American slut. It was not to be, but I managed to a) pick up a Turkish boyfriend for the duration of my friend's wedding and b) have upwards of 5 Greek men stop in their vehicles, back up, and ask me if I need a ride into town on a 10 minute walk. I am so moving to that country.

Like some raging pansy, I never take these people up on their offer, but it doesn't mean that I don't think I deserve it. I think of it as a party favor of sorts. You put up with all of horomonal crap and BMS (Boy Menstrual Syndrome) that comes with dating a perfectly lovely person and in return you get to be massaged with exotic oils by an older man who wants to make you his mistress. Anyway, I imagine most of my conversations for the 8 or so weeks that we'd be together would go something like this:

Friend: "Oh, hey, Meg. How was your summer?"
Me: *removes large and expensive sunglasses* "Era un po lungho ma - oh I'm so sorry. Emilio and I have been speaking exclusively Italian together."
Friend: "It smells like olive oil and sex in here."
Me: "And eggplant."

Uhhh what?

Honestly, I can't tell if I'm so excited that I'm fair about to pee myself or if this makes me hate humanity: http://www.metacritic.com/film/titles/zombiestrippers

Pretty sure it's the former.