You Tell Me

Is it wrong of me,

To send a copy of my ode to our gardener, "Julio the Meat Wad" to my hubby? Especially when we have no Gardner?

To do exaggerated impersonations of co-workers when they are right in front of me?

To continue to tell my children stories of being raised by wolves on the Canadian border even after my sister busted me and told them the truth. Or did she?

To have the check out clerk at the grocery store weight my bananas then break off two of the bananas and weight them again to make up for the ones I ate in the store?

To not make a single appointment before eleven a.m. ever because I can't be bothered to be up and dressed by that time?

To turn down all invitations to pot-luck gatherings because if I cook one more stinking thing my hands will form permanent fists?

To call my cat Chub-Chub or Mongo Palousa but become intensely offended when my kids try to jiggle my bingo-wings? (Bingo wings- the loose skin that hangs on under arms of elderly ladies- NOT me)

Not answer the phone or door, even when I am home, just because I don't feel like it. (This drives some of my friends nuts. If I have done it to you, too bad. Do not take it personally.)

To eat salad for breakfast and cereal before bed?

T head to the beach instead of the lawnmower when it is hot and my grass is longer than everyone in the neiborhoods put together?

To sing Robert Palmers "Simply Irresistible" loudly in front of hubby when ever carrying shopping bags into the house? ("She's so fine, there's no telling where the money went...Sing with me honey..")

To not want to be called Mom be my husband. I hate that. I am not his mom. He may instead refer to me as Hot Momma. My kids can even call me something other than mom. I call them by their given names not just the title, son.

To tell the comedian turned actor, the one who was once married to that female comedian turn talk show hostess nutcase, "You have nice skin?", and not recognize him?

To do the Mel Brooks line in blazing Saddles, "Work, work work, work. We gotta protect our phony baloney jobs gentlemen", cross eyed on my way out the door every day?

To forgo sending my kids to camp in lew of packing them off to "Flappy Aunty's Learnatorium and Day Spa Colatic" for the summer?

To plan our annual pilgrimage across the state line to buy the good, illegal, blow all digits to smithereens, explosives and include my innocent young children against the chagrin of my boy scout badge wearing, never break a rule, ex special agent military cop in the service, hubby?

To threaten Hubby not to let him set off a single sparkler if he does not let me use his truck as my fire cracker toting mule?

Entertain myself with useless lists?