So, yesterday my mom was a scoring official for the youth golf tournament (15 and under) at my parent's country club. Last night she's telling us about the three teenage boys that she had to walk around with while they played 18-holes, just making sure that they were keeping score correctly, and I think acting as a bit of a chaperone, although the club would never admit it. My dad asked her how the kids did and she said "Well, the two that finished actually did pretty OK" and went on to describe scores and shots and whatnot. And of course, the obvious question is "What happened to the third kid? Why didn't he finish?" This is the best part...he didn't finish because his MOM CALLED and he had to leave early to go to his ORTHODONTIST APPOINTMENT! HAHAHAHAHA. The poor kid is like 14 years old...and everyone at the club is going to remember this forever. I can see it now...little Johnny is out on the 7th tee, just getting ready to make his tee shot and his cell phone rings and it's his MOM! Oh god. Maybe it's not funny now, but last night I was in tears over this.
Also, for the few of you who have met my mom, you will NOT be surprised to hear that now, whenever Molly the Satanic Dog just stares into a corner, or sees a fly and freaks out, my mom goes (in her best imitating Molly's voice if she was a person and could speak) "Mom, I see dead dogs!" And, just so we know that both my parents are equally insane, my dad has developed some sort of weird hetero-crush on Lance Armstrong and wears his yellow Lance Armstrong shirt EVERYWHERE and talks constantly about all the good that Lance does with his charity, etc. His fascination is almost cult-like in its intensity. It's sad when I'm the most normal person in the family, don't you think?
