Amici:
Day 3 of the Momma Stella saga started with our super dog, Rigoletto, having to be rushed to the vet from bleeding. Four hundred fazools later (of course nobody knows what from), I was off to see Momma Stella and her Percocet induced smile ... and once she saw the box of Oreos I brought, forgetaboutit ... paradiso.
Day 3 of the Momma Stella saga started with our super dog, Rigoletto, having to be rushed to the vet from bleeding. Four hundred fazools later (of course nobody knows what from), I was off to see Momma Stella and her Percocet induced smile ... and once she saw the box of Oreos I brought, forgetaboutit ... paradiso.
It was a bit weird when she asked to see the book I’m reading (Mitch Wieland’s God’s Dogs--it is truly EXCELLENT writing, the kind I’d seriously give up an appendage for (preferably one foot or the other because I can’t eat with my feet). My favorite line thus far is: When she hops from the saddle, her jeans ride so tight Ferrell wonders how she’s not caught in some kind of special ecstasy.
Seriously, folks, this is a wonderful read none of yous should pass up and one of a few I’ll be reviewing over the next few months. Another I meant to review when I returned home (and have already lent out to another MFA buddy (Robbie 151), is Merle Drowns, The Suburbs of Heaven (also an excellent read).Anyway, back to Momma Stella and what she said when she saw the author of God's Dogs picture inside the back jacket cover. (background -- Momma Stella is in a hospital with a heavy Russian population, including nurses, doctors, and patients). Momma looked at Mitch Wieland’s picture and said, “He looks like a Russian mobster, Sonny. Be careful, they’re taking over.”
Oy vey ...
Thus far, Momma Stella remains the biggest critic of Johnny Porno. Today she summed up why after I informed her that somebody in California (the 5th possible Stella fan sighting in 8 years) wrote a nice review of JP on amazon.
Momma Stella said, “I couldn’t get into that one, Sonny. I didn’t mind the one guy there, the one that liked the waitress in the diner.”
“Johnny, Mom,” I said.
“Whatever. But then his ex-wife was screwin’ this one, then that one, then another one. Everybody was screwin’ somebody. I couldn’t follow it, all the screwin’ goin’ on. I like the other ones, but not that one.”
“Oy vey,” I said. “I’m gonna regret this, I know. Which ones?”
“I don’t know, the Russian mob one. And the other one, the Cheapskate.”
Momma Stella has the Russian mob on her cat-scanned brain today ...
Tomorrow, if she passes her next cat scan, she gets transported to a rehab joint very close to her home. Two weeks of rehab and she can go back to administering the host (she’s a Eucharistic minister, but assures me that God forgives her frequent F-bomb slips of the tongue). Between her religious services, her visiting AIDS patients when she’s healthy enough to do so, and playing mayor of the senior citizen’s home where she lives, Momma Stella is one active tomata.
She’s my Mommy!
I know, yous all wanna know did I get her to F-bomb me, right?
Forgetaboutit ... piece of cake. There was this very cute, young Russian nurse and all I had to do was make believe I was making eyes at the nurse (she was handling my mother’s roommate) while my mother tried to explain why she should go home instead of to rehab and Mom lost it.
“Hey, Jimbowski, I’m talkin’ to you,” Mom said. “Pay attention.”
“I think she’s got it for me, ma, that young one next door.”
“Yeah, sure. Just you. Four hundred pounds.”
“Three-thirteen.”
“On one foot.”
“Nice. I’m your sonny boy.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
“You can’t go home yet, Ma. You have to drive the poor bastards at rehab crazy the next two weeks.”
At that point she cupped her hands at me and mouthed instead of said, “Ffffffffffffffffuck you, Sonny.”
“I should call Dustin,” I said. “They’re about the same age, that nurse and Dustin.”
“Go shit in your hat.”
“You’re still not going home tomorrow.”
At that point she gave me the Italian salute (lay one arm out, smack the inside of the elbow with the other hand).
She did calm down once she started picking at the Oreos (she had at least 6 before I left). “Oh, Sonny, these are good.”
"Yeah, I can see. I’ll bring you double-stuffed tomorrow, okay?"
“Mmmm, I like those.”
Oy vey ...
—Knucks
This movie is responsible for at least 50 of my 3,000 pounds ...
