Too proud to tell you I was wrong
You guys tried hard-core to warn me about coming out to my mom as a blogger, and I turned a deaf ear to your advice. “Mom readership is a drag,” lamented Sarah. Meagan pleaded, “ABORT MISSION!!!” Bea cautioned, “It can’t end well.”
This just in: It has not ended well.
And yet, at the time I was all, “No, she should love and accept me for who I am! I don’t want to live a lie! My body of work, my choice! Equal writes now! I’m here and I’m in the blogosphere! 2-4-6-8 … something that rhymes with eight!”
Something about this post reminds me of Cher, but I can't put my finger on what.
I don’t know why I did the things I did. I don’t know why I said the things I said. I keep thinking, If I could turn back time. If I could find a way. I’d take back those words. Huh. I’m not one to pat myself on the back, but seriously, that’s really fucking poetic of me. And insanely catchy, too. Like it even could be a song or something.
Don’t let my lyrical dexterity distract you from the problem at hand: My mother has let my fame go to her head. And by “my fame” I mean “her fame,” because for the past few weeks, you’ve all been gushing like the world-ending oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico about how insanely adorable she is. In my e-mail. On my blog. In my Twitter feed. You’ve created a mom monster – a momster, if you will – and I don’t know how you look yourselves in the mirror. Well, except for the obvious – standing in front of a mirror, vanity or full-length, and opening your eyes.
Yesterday on the phone, Momster staked her claim to “at least 50 percent” of the proceeds from my book deal, and decreed I have to build her a house for *us* to share. I said, “Umm, I don’t have a book deal.” And she was all, “Well, keep writing about me, kiddo, and you’ll have me to thank someday.” On being used, I could write a book.
Disregarding my feelings, readers defiantly have declared their love for and allegiance to Momster ad nausem, using phrases such as “awesome,” “hysterical” and “sounds like a hoot.” Tonya went so far as to suggest I hook up my mom with Justin “Shit My Dad Says” Halpern’s father. And Maggie C. chimed in, “Your mom and my mom should have a crazy mom-off – which looks vaguely sexual now that I’ve typed it out.”
Hey, remember when we were all working toward the common goal of finding me someone to love? Yeah, me too. Those were good times. Now everyone is channeling their energy into pimping out my mom, who at least one reader thinks might be sexually attracted to other moms. My world was shattered, I was torn apart. Like someone took a knife and drove it deep in my heart. At this rate, my blog will win Momster a date with a cougar before it lands me one. This shocking turn of events makes me long for the days when the only thing coming between me and sex was America. Now I’ve got Momster to compete with, too. This hurts me, you guys. I am hurt. This may sound silly, but sometimes I wish I weren’t so sensitive. Or that my heart was, I don’t know … made of stone.
But hold the phone. Overzealous yentas are putting the butch cart before the possibly lesbo horse. Before Momster starts Etheridging it up LiLo-style, she probably should end her 33-year marriage to my father.
Super. I started this blog to find love and happiness, and all it has led to so far is divorce. Do you believe in life after love?
On the upside, though, do I have a way with words, or what?
P.S. I found someone to take away the heartache. She’s a tasty morsel named Dru who lives in Texas and wants to have “sexy times.” Yes, with me. Texas is only 2,000 miles away from Boston, which is an improvement by roughly 1,000 miles over Portland, home of my last star-crossed love, Lacey. Despite Momster and America’s determination to keep me celibate, I’m getting warmer. Sexually. And also because of spring. And climate change. Watch out, Midwest. I’m romantically trending your way, even though I spent most of my formative years plotting to escape your cul-de-sacs, conservatism and corn. *Sigh.* Every journey always brings me back to you.
alone ... with cats 
I loved the line “Do you believe in life after love?”
Sad to see your mommy coming up as an obstacle. But sorta you are again publicizing *her* only. So it’s like, all up to you!
Just so you know, I’d pick you over your mom. ❤
Chin up. You can always give her half the proceeds then write a tell-all autobiography about how hard it was to grow up exploited by your fame-seeking mother-who-stole-your-blog
I think you should copyright the word momster – and then rake it tons of dough and have your mom to thank for your success. No, wait…
I just realized from that picture that Britney Spears has been channelling her inner Cher, but who doesn’t? I think I might have that same outfit.
Anyway, perhaps, you and Momster can parlay this into an MTV show? Like Tila Tequila without the uber gross factor of Tila and the scary dudes, it’d be just the women…ok maybe not THOSE women…but really hot, awesome women like Portia de Rossi (Ellen has lost her compelling powers because she traded them to be on American Idol) and Ani Difranco (who leaves her current male mate now that she has a baby, cuz really what else has she been keeping him around for?). But this show would also focus on getting your mom a date too, hers could consist of men and women and then we could see who was right me or Maggie C. Again let me state your dad will go along with this plan because you guys will buy him a yacht.
I will stop now. I think that damn Cher song — that is now going over and over in my brain, thank you very much — is really screwing with me.
Yeah, I shouldn’t have told my mom about my blog, either. But I’d totally trade you mom’s-who-know-about-the-blog in. a. heartbeat.
So mine practically abandoned me at almost 14. Then changes her mind two months later when I’m living with my father – a person who let me do whatever I wanted. At almost 14. Yeah, I didn’t go back to her house. Of course, she is NEVER wrong, and blames everything on my father.
So now I’m blogging about those wild years she missed. It’s not going well.
Trade ya ANYTIME.
By the way – I love the word Momster. Can I borrow that?
Your mother is hilarious, that being said…. on some things ( such as daughters blogging) should be treated like mushrooms. Kept completely in the dark and if ever asked, feed them shit.
leaving me for a texan. owie.
No, baby. You’ll always be my Twitter wife. Till death do us part. I mean, we took vows.
whew.
You’d never have this problem if your Mom was a robot. Or Tina Fey.
My Momster (Mama Pants) found my blog through some sort of choose-your-own-adventure clicking through various other blogs. Figures. I’ve been blogging 10 years she was never interested in what I was writing, which was fine by me. Then she retires and lands in my blap. (What? I like to combine words too.) I now find comments from her on blogs I read under the name Mama Pants. I suppose there’s something to be said for consistency and all but it wigged me right the hell out the first time I saw it.
It stunted my writing for a while, knowing she was there reading. But then I struck a deal with her that she wasn’t allowed to get all momserious on me about something I’d blogged (as I sometimes write about The Crazy) or make assumptions based upon my writing. But she was welcome to ask, as I’m welcome to tell her to piss off and mind her own business, fat lot of good that ever does. She went ass over tea kettle over that line once and I unceremoniously kicked her matriarchal ass back over to her side and we had a good laugh.
I’m still changing domains soon so that my archives get obliterated.
Also– “Equal writes now.”
And with that, Mark Renton had fallen in love. Damn, but I love me a good pun.
You’re mom’s cool in a John-Travolta-in-Broken-Arrow kind of way, but you’re still #1. Ignoring the fact that I’m a guy for the moment, I’d be prepared to duel both Dru and Merideth for sexytime rights, but hell, we’re not even in the same hemisphere.
You’re only “a guy for the moment”? Let’s celebrate the new you!
Excellent! I’ve been working hard on the whole “I’m not much of a man by the light of day…” look.
hey, yo. fightin’ words.
Alright, while you were live-tweeting your momcation, I thought, “Oh I’m going to see my beloved, yet dream killing mother for Mother’s Day!! I should jump on this bandwagon!!”
WRONG
I was tweeting about her scolding someone in a Costco for audibly farting when she snatched my phone to see what I was doing…..now she wants to sit down and talk about her “intellectual property” I’m using for fame and fortune.
THANKS FOR EVERYTHING JESSICA
At least your mom is viewing the blogging thing in a positive light, even though she’s thinking about how it can be positive for her. My blog would have a lot more readers if I felt able to write about my penis wrinkle of a family, but I can’t for fear of being taken seriously, hurting someone’s feelings, and then written out of the will AGAIN.
Oh, and Dru is totally a cutie! HIGH FIVE.
s
Hmmm . . . so sorry that you’re in such a pickle. If I could reach the stars, I’d give them all to you to hopefully make you feel better about your mom bogarting your fame AND cockblocking [wait, can I use that here?] you by engineering a coup of your blog and twitter lives. That is uncool.
Your support group is here for you.
Oh we Midwesterners have way more than cul-de-sacs, conservatism & corn! I think your migration at least a wee bit westward seems inevitable….even your awesome mom would agree!
I won’t jump on the bandwagon. I’m sure you’re way more adventurous than your mom. She probably wouldn’t travel 2,000 miles for love, or a little romp.
I did not know there was a lesbo horse and now I want one.
Hmmmm . . . I assumed your Mom was funny because you WROTE her funny. She should be kissing your ass. Nobody’s funny in writing until somebody writes that shit down and leaves out all the boring parts. And tweaks the funny parts to make them more hilarious.
Everybody is always telling me how hilarious my husband is. That’s because I WRITE him hilarious. He does a lot of stupid things, too . . . but now no one wants to hear about them because he is all perfect.
We know who the woman behind the curtain is.
The Great and Powerful Oz-ette!
Hm, isn’t this exactly what happened to Kathy Griffin? She got a TV show, and her mom became its star. One of life’s rules: Mom happens.
Considering the fact that my mom still does not know how to really use her Facebook page, nor understand why she set one up for herself in the first place, I’m not too concerned about her co-opting my blog space. However, if she simply read any of my entries, her puritanical senses would be mortified. Your mom at least can be amused and entertained in the process. 🙂
Definitely copyright Momster; it’s a hit already.
Your comment reminded me of one of the great bits from Betty White on SNL on Saturday: She thanked Facebook for making her appearance on the show possible, then added, more or less: “I didn’t even know what Facebook was! Now that I do, I think it’s an incredible waste of time.”
Just quotin’!
Yikes, momsters are horrible. That kept me from getting my own blog, then I remembered that she’s computer illiterate and doesn’t have internet. (The horror of that is immense, I know!) Now, I’m just too lazy to write a blog. I’ll get motivated one of these days, if I quit following @blogdangerously links, that is.
Ah the Momster. Oh this I am well acquainted. Now, since this is my first visit to your blogdom, I won’t pretend to know your mom. But I know my mom is a Momster on crack. Think Momma Rose (from Gypsy) plus Joan Crawford. THAT’S my mother. That woman could take anything I’ve ever achieved and make it her own accomplishment while still being jealous of me for it while still complaining that it’s not good enough. So, win!
I feel ya.
PS
Now I get the Portland hate. But I’m running towards the lurve in Portland. It wouldn’t matter where, I’d move for someone that’s worth it. 🙂
I really really thought your mom was cool until I saw her picture. Then I realized I am her age. Now I just feel old. But still hoping I can be cool…like your mom!
hugs,
susie
Go for it !! Get the cats an auto cat feeder/waterer ( is that a word) hop a plane and go.for.it!
I thought about your delimma, but the best I can come up with for you in the fucking-therapist-who-is-near-Boston-&-not-a-man category is a older psych who is uptight & wouldn’t be any fun at all but was probably at the drum circle with you & your mom & if they met they’d get along famously. sad. NC is closer than Texas, but that’s the only plus in the scenario. I will keep looking.
I was in the midwest briefly this week.
The corn and cul-de-sacs are indeed seductive.
I think it was corn, at any rate. Leafy. Growing in rows.
Then again, could have been rutabega.
I grew up in the city. These things are all foreign to me.
But still, seductive. Yes. I can see it.
-Lori @ In Pursuit of Martha Points
In light of all this talk of corn, I feel obligated to point out that we don’t actually have that much corn in Texas. Not where I am, at any rate.
We have scenic lakes, beautiful open skies, stars that stretch to eternity, bright city lights and a whole lot of cows. But not in a “Ooh, we’re farmers who have cows” kind of way. More like a “We’re sophisticated and listen Coldplay but also own 3000 head of cattle because cows are adorable and tasty” kind of thing.
And we have music halls!
So…Texas is obviously where you should come visit. You wouldn’t want to get hypersensitivity pneumonitis because you were trying to get laid, now would you? I certainly wouldn’t want that.
I’m kinda new here, but am a quick study. All I can say is, seriously love your writing. So thank you. And good luck with loveromancesexgoodtimes and all that. x and o.
I came here to tell you that I just had a moment with my mom. A moment so beautiful, I almost blog-came-out to her right then and there. I chickened out.
But, I don’t feel like I can leave this post without mentioning that your coming-out-to-your-mom-about-your-blog post used Cher lyrics and photo, and the whole coming-out/Cher-is-a-gay-icon thing is blowing my effing mind. Also, I can’t say “fuck,” because your mom reads here now, so I used “eff.”
*slow clap* to your brilliance, my friend. Cher/coming out. Way to bring it around.
The end.
Almost.
Ready for it?
Now.
Really the end.
For real this time.