It's funny how a memory will suddenly flash into your head at a random moment in life and set you to giggling like you should be put away. Yesterday, after writing about my inability to be sane around my Father-in-Law, I remembered I'd also told him this story while sitting awkwardly in the parlor just after his wife had died. As if my telling a Billy Connolly joke at a wake wasn't bad enough -
For Brother’s eighteenth birthday, I talked the Mom into giving him a Playboy magazine. I don’t know why. I thought it would be funny to embarrass him. He wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t embarrassed. It was a dud of a gift. For his thirtieth birthday, I talked her into doing it again. I don’t know why. I’m a dork. I never learn. Mom and I went down to the Adult Bookstore - that happened to be right next to the VW Bug store we spent way too much time in picking up bug parts - and we wandered about for far too long before she finally bought a Girls of Playboy or something. Mom then wrapped it up and mailed it off to Brother in Los Angeles. But not before she went through it with a stack of post-it notes, stuck them all over the magazine with little commentary about the ladies bits and bobs written on them. Mom is awesomely different! She put a post-it on a set of gargantuan boobs and wrote ‘Ouch!’ And on another substantial pair she wrote, ‘Watch out! I’m about to blow!' Where parts were shaved or plucked or waxed or enhanced beyond normal, she wrote comments. On arms and legs that were glistening with oil, she wrote comments. And they were hysterical comments, totally witty and wrong and they had me rolling on the floor in tears. And they just had to be the most incredibly awkward thing to get from your mother for your birthday. But I laughed and Mom laughed and we both thought it was funny and so we finished off our opus, sent off the magazine to Brother and that was that. And we heard nothing. No acknowledgment of receiving the gift. No angry phone call or pissy email. He made no comment at all until one day, I asked him about it and he went off at me, yelling and shouting and name calling. He was pissed and rightly so. It was a rather rude thing to have talked Mom into. BUT it turns out that’s not why he got angry. I have to go back in time to explain why. About six months before our brilliantly inappropriate gift, Mom was in the midst of her battle with lymphoma. Mom being Mom was still working full time, taking business trips in between the Chemo and puking and generally pretending she was not sick. One week she was down in LA for work that was to be followed by a meeting in Santa Barbara the following Monday. It made more sense for her to stay down there over the weekend and not travel back to the Bay Area just to turn around and go back two days later. “Stay with Brother.” I said. She called him but he didn’t offer. I called him and I yelled at him. “Mom is going through Cancer. CANCER! How could you not ask her to stay with you? She is staying with you this weekend, no ifs ands or buts! SHE HAS CANCER!!!” He was furious with me but he had no choice. Mom stayed. Turns out, at the same time, Brother had a girl staying there who was also in town for a job. A girl he didn’t want Mom to meet. Because she was a model and she was in LA for a job. And that job was POSING FOR PLAYBOY! My little annoying shit of a brother was DATING A PLAYBOY BUNNY! I KNOW!!! So many questions. So many comments. Brother, rightly so, didn’t want Mom to know he was dating a Playboy Bunny. He didn't want me to know. He was fully aware of the potential teasing that would never, ever stop should we know. So, when he got the magazine, he thought it was my passive aggressive way of digging at him. He thought I knew she was in April’s edition of Playboy and that I'd told Mom. Like if I knew he was dating a Playboy Bunny, I would keep my mouth shut, not tell Mom, not tell everyone I know and not tease him mercilessly every second of the day? Like the the only comment I'd make would be a magazine sent to him via Mom? Does he know me at all? I'm not nearly subtle enough to do that. I didn’t know. I couldn’t know. Your sibling dating a Playboy Bunny is something that happens only in the movies or on random TV shows or to that one guy from high school that is suddenly famous. That doesn’t happen to somewhat normal folks like me. That doesn’t happen to the dorky kid I shared a room with who used to light his farts on fire. But apparently that dorky kid grew up to be a gorgeous, funny, charming guy and gorgeous, funny charming, guys do sometimes end up dating Playboy Bunnies Miss April or whatever month she was. Mom and I could not have laughed louder when we found out the truth. I'd like to think it played a big part in making Mom feel better. It sure made my day, my year even. Brother, not so much. He is trying to pretend it never happened - the girl AND the magazine. But I'm a sister, and sisters never forget. And there you have it, yet another story you should not tell to your almost in-laws at a wake. If ever! And that is also why Mom doesn’t listen to my gift suggestions anymore.
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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