My name is Luka
One side of a cell phone conversation, overheard on the bus, yesterday, on my way to see my first American doctor:
"Well, you remember my mom...
I could see that I was more together than her, and I was five!
But your dad was just a regular dad. Mine was like...
I remember he used to say, whatever she says, just do the opposite.
Well, you know, you must succumb to whatever mom wants!
Have they finally accepted that I was beaten?
Well, yeah, that's what made my dad successful and rich, but what has it done for you?
Oh, no! My dad was completely miserable. My mom was just icing on the cake!"
His mother's not the only one who's crazy.
"Well, you remember my mom...
I could see that I was more together than her, and I was five!
But your dad was just a regular dad. Mine was like...
I remember he used to say, whatever she says, just do the opposite.
Well, you know, you must succumb to whatever mom wants!
Have they finally accepted that I was beaten?
Well, yeah, that's what made my dad successful and rich, but what has it done for you?
Oh, no! My dad was completely miserable. My mom was just icing on the cake!"
His mother's not the only one who's crazy.
Labels: close encounters, life in California
3 Comments:
That's a pretty depressing thing to overhear. I still don't get why people have those private conversations in public.
And why they don't notice that the tall redhead beside them has pulled out a notebook and begun to transcribe their conversations.
regarding that first visit to an American doctor, have you gotten over the shock yet of PAYING for a doctors visit? The first time really blows you away, doesn't it!
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