Three Old Ladies, HIPAA Violations and a Chain Restaurant
I had dinner last night with my mom and aunt to celebrate my mom’s birthday. I love my family, but have decided never, EVER to eat with them in public again.
My mom is a nurse, so at least 90% of our conversations disgust me. I don’t need to know about someone’s post pregnancy blood clot over a Cobb salad. She’s forever trying to ruin good food with her gross-out stories. It’s like freaking “Fear Factor” for my mouth.
Fettuccini Alfredo is forever ruined my talk of a colonoscopy.
Egg salad and Salmonella talk don’t mix.
The smell of a Club sandwich will forever remind me of butt boils.
Bran muffins remind me of chopped off fingers.
The list is so long I’m considering developing the “Dinners with Kathy” diet plan and selling it for millions. Of course I’ll give my mom a sizeable cut of the action. The remainder of the money will be used for therapy. I’m gonna need it.
Comments
My sister is a nurse I am pretty sure I have become a bulimic because of her.
So THAT’s why your arms look so fierce in that picture yesterday.
Don’t let her fuck up the quesadilla at the Pub or the burger at Red Rock. Those are off limits to Kathy. Thanks.
I once had breakfast with a med student who was just getting off a night shift during his rotation in a maternity ward. Over oatmeal, he started talking about some patient’s vaginal tears.
All I could say was, “I’m sure glad my job doesn’t involve torn vaginas.”
But I’m still OK with oatmeal.
hahaha my eating is totally affected by what people tell me over dinner as well.
also, i can’t swim in chlorine pools without remembering a gigantic glob of snot i touched on a hand rail. i hate that shit.
Or maybe some kind of tummy toning regime. Because my stomach kept clenching and unclenching all the way through that.
Pingback: Amulet Gifts Bring Your Loved Ones Local, Handmade Love and … | Jewelry Beauty Wisdom
Ah, hilarious! My mom, who is also a nurse and ALSO named Kathy–with a K–tells me stories all the time. She started working in the county hospital in the nursery when I was in middle school. She worked 2 nights a week and would come home in the morning just in time to gross me out over my dad’s french toast.