Them’s fightin’ words

My mother is someone who lives to shop a big believer in all the hoopla that is known as Black Friday. Despite my need for rest after cooking, cleaning, and serving for three days, I agreed to, once again, go shopping with my mother at an ungodly hour. Because I am trying to get nominated for mother of the year, I dragged my two boys along, too.

After picking us up at 4 a.m., we soon found ourselves standing in the long line at Kohl’s just waiting to pay for our purchases and it was exciting because with a line like that, I just knew there had to be a ride at the end. When I noticed the red light blinking on my crackberry Blackberry, I looked to see what message I had. I didn’t recognize the number who’d sent me the text – and I was shocked when I read the message.

“You act all fly when you wit them hoes.”

Wha?! Immediately I knew I had to defend my mother’s honor. Frantically, I typed back.

“Don’t you be calling my momma a hoe.”

How rude! I can not believe someone would call my mother a garden instrument. She hates being outside (unless by outside you mean waiting in line to get in a store) and she does not do gardens even though she is an upstanding garden club member. But her secret is safe with me.

A couple of hours later, my phone rang – it was the number from the offensive text sender.

Me (irritated): “Hello.”

Offensive Text Sender: “Uh… hello?”

Me (even more irritated): “Yeah. Hello.”

Offensive Text Sender: “I think I’ve got the wrong number.”

So, there. I told him.