You Say Potato, I Say You're Fucking Crazy

I'd like to dedicate this blog to my mom; the only 50*ahem cough* something year old woman I know who tries (and usually fails) to speak gangsta on a regular basis.

She, like all of the women in my family, is a bit of a handful.

Because that's how we ROLL, son!

Clearly, my mom and I are a lot alike. Granted, we have an uncanny similarity in appearance (and I would post a picture, but A. I want to respect her privacy, and 2. I don't want you guys hitting on her because homegirl is a total COUGAR)

[SIDENOTE: if you're new here, WELCOME to Tapdancing in the Dark: the only blog on the web where we essentially pimp our family members!!! Stay. Have a Latte. Breathe in the shame. mmmmm. smells like tacos.]

But beyond our penchant for preying on young men (I keed, I keed), our brains seem to be more alike than not alike. This usually works out in my favor, because I totally LOVE her, and not just because I'm required to by law (or nature, or the HIPPA act or something like that).

But there are things about her that I can't help but look at and say "this....THIS...is my future." And then I kind of sigh and shake my head, and then squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose as if the thought of me ageing to be exactly like her is giving me a brain tumor.

For example:

My mom was in a big fancy pants executive meeting the other day, and she was getting sleepy. Hey, we've all been there.

So there she is struggling to take notes as her eyes are closing of their own accord.
She's writing.
She's nodding off.
And suddenly, she snaps to attention, fully aware that she actually fell asleep for half a second.

And if this wasn't bad enough, she looks down at her paper and sees this:

Now, let me walk you through this.

She's writing about some sort of system that provides feedback on ordered drugs on the first three lines.

On the fourth line, she starts to drift off (as you can see by the progressively smaller handwriting). As far as we can tell, this line is comprised of the following words:

"Series of baseline...potato"

...

What?!?!?

If you're guessing at this point that she woke up to see that she had written the word "potato" in her sleep, then you, my friend, would be absolutely right.

Of course, when she saw (to her horror) that she had written the word "potato" while she was supposed to be taking notes, she quickly crossed out the line and went back to writing as if nothing had happened. But needless to say, we are both more than a bit alarmed and confused that her subconscious psyche felt the need to espress itself in the form of a root vegetable.

And, well, yeah, it's pretty fucking hilarious too.
I mean, what does it MEAN?!? What would Freud say? How do we move forward from this point?

So many questions, so few answers...

So apparently, THIS is what I have to look forward to as I get older.

Be concerned people.
Be very, VERY concerned.