The "F" Word…

My Mom knows about my blog.

And so does my brother.

I love my family, I really do.  I mean, I have been hiding this blog from them since I started.  But, I do love them.

Why does that sound like I need some convincing?

We are just super duper hard on each other. And loving and supportive at the same time.  It’s a combo that really messes me up.  A combo that my therapist warned me about.

Okay, I don’t have a therapist. But, I thought that sounded really cool.

A few days ago, my Mom was reading my blog and I noticed that she quickly closed the page.

Me:  Did you read it?  It’s funny, eh!  (See how I need to be constantly validated?)

My Mom:  I don’t really want to know about your sex life.

Me: It’s not all about MY sex life. It’s my friends sex life.

My Mom:  I never talked to my Mom about my sex life.

Me:  Oh.

My Mom:  And you use the “F” word too much.

Me:  How can you use the “F” word too much?

And that was it.

Then my Dad,  a retired teacher may I add, asked me how to spell “pizza”.

I come from good people.

Now, I want some fucking piza.

I mean pizza.