I'm not sure which I'm looking forward to less: the mountain of dishes to be done after this weekend's Food-a-palooza...or having to call my mother for her birthday.

Aw, hell...we all know the answer to that.

Part of me wants to pretend I totally forgot that today's the 18th (like there's any danger of that.  Thanks, Facebook, ya bastard).  But that is a level of passive aggressive fuckwittery that would put me on her level so....

I could also wait until the eleventh hour so she wonders if I remembered (like she does to me every.  Fucking.  Year), but then I'd have it hanging over my head all damn day.  Better to use the "ripping off the Bandaid" method.

I think I'll watch 'Gypsy' after I call her.  I'll mention that, and she'll be flattered because we did the show *eons* ago.  She has no idea how often that little piece of showbiz hell has gotten mentioned to various therapists.  She thinks comparing her to Mama Rose is a compliment.

Uh....yeah.  No.