I'm a damn liar

I didn't take the bus the other day. Despite my best intentions, and a really heart-felt blog post that all three of you who read this were privy to, my fat ass stayed comfortably in my car seat for the past two days.

In my defense, I "needed" to drive yesterday, insomuch as we headed to my mom's after work for some home-style cookin' and a little "So You Think You Can Dance." As a one car household, we "needed" the car to get home from said mama's house.

A word about SYTYCD--it just might be therapeutic. My mom, a clinically depressed emotion-whore is back on the Zoloft sauce, so one could argue that the dolls are lifting her spirits. Me? I think it's the dancing. I made her watch SYTYCD last week for the first time, much to her grumbling as it didn't involve torture, insect copulation, sensationalized news or any of the other depressing-ass topics she seems to gravitate toward on television.

And did she like it? You bet your sweet Mary she did! As so eloquently stated above, the woman feeds off emotion. She'll rile people up just to parasitically feed off their feelings. And what, I ask you, is more feeling than dance? Throw in the fact that it's a reality show and thus is obligated to highlight the dramatic inner monologues of the participants and you have a recipe for OCD household fun.

It's not just fun for her, either. Watching this sort of show with my mother is pretty entertaining for me. Just imagine witnessing someone with the unmasked, unwalled responses of a child, the intelligence of a highly-educated adult and the attention span of an ADHD teenager and you have the general idea. I've always said that I never fully understood my mom until I started taking hallucinogenic drugs. Once I did, I could imagine seeing the world the way she did and I've been slightly more patient with her ever since.

In any case, these Wednesday night gatherings are becoming something I really look forward to. We eat dinner, go for a walk, then watch the dancing while Hombrelibre semi-drunkenly heckles us from the other couch.

My mom said that last week, after the show, was the best she had slept in a long time. This week we pulled away from her house watching her pop-and-lock on the front porch, her arms waving, her grin positively lighting up the night.