A recap of recent events (OK, here's the Easter shizz I promised last week but got too caught up in the countdown to tax return deadline...goddammit):
I was running down a list of the celebrities I see at my gym for my mother. After saying "Tate Donovan", my mom had a confused look on her face. I qualified Tate's place on the list by saying:
"You know, the male lawyer on Damages."
"Glenn Close goes to your gym too?"
After not-really-accidentally taking over Easter dinner cooking duties from my mother, I asked her opinion a couple of times:
"Is the ham done?"
"Are the potatoes OK?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Do you want to taste them?"
She just shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know why I asked you." I replied to the shrug. "You don't eat this shit anyway...you'll just have your usual Boca Burger and cigarette."
I was waiting for a punch to the arm. Instead I got another shrug and:
"Can you open another bottle of wine?"