Mamen

An overwhelming 75% of you (read as 3 people) voted that they would like to read more substantiated rants about my mother. When she made me promise I wouldn't write a book about her, I don't think she considered the alternative forms of publishing.
Oh, where to begin? How about my most recent phone conversation:

Me: Hi mom. Can you do me a favor and mail me the plastic bag of pictures sitting on top of the book shelf above the stereo in my old room? I'm putting together some photo albums.

B: Why do you need ALL of those pictures? There's probably 400 pictures here. I'll just go through them and send you some of them.

Me: Mom, can you please not go through them. Can you please just send the whole bag. I'll reimburse you whatever the shipping cost is.

B: I'm not sending you ALL of these pictures. And why don't you want me to go through them. Are there naked pictures? And besides, it's going to cost a fortune (note: the bag weighs approximately 2 pounds)

Me: No mom, there are no naked pictures. And I already said I'll pay you back. Can you please just send them?

B: I really don't understand why you need ALL of these pictures. I mean, there are pictures here of MY friends, and we all know you hate my friends since you're not inviting them to your wedding. And besides, do you think dad and I are made out of money? Do you know how much all of this will cost?

Me: (trying to remain calm) All you have to do is go to the post office and buy a box. If you throw in a book with the pictures you can ship it as "media mail" since that's the cheapest. And, again, I already said I'm paying you back...

B: What's "media mail", I don't know what that is, (to my father) DO YOU KNOW WHAT MEDIA MAIL IS? See, your father doesn't even know. I can't do this. I don't have time for this, and anyway, it's going to cost a fortune...

It went on.

So I received a small package today with about 10 pictures stuck inside a haggadah. She's an infuriating woman.