Mom’s Ridiculously Short Attention Span

Last weekend I did a long bike ride and developed what’s called a “saddle sore” (or a gigantic, mutated form of one) after riding 80 miles. I wrote about the whole awkward-yet-amusing ordeal on my athlete blog in case you’re interested in reading the backstory behind the grossest trip to the women’s health clinic ever. After I got back from the doctor, I had a chat with my mom and filled her in on what had happened. I didn’t know at the time that her attention was divided between our phone call and something else.

Me: “Do you know what a cyst is?”

Mom: “Yeah.”

Me: “So I did a bike ride last weekend in Idaho and rode 80 miles, and I developed a cyst near my pubic bone so I had to go to the doctor.”

Mom: “Oh my gahhhhhhh!! What they do?!”

Me: “I went to the gynecologist and she drained it.”

Mom: “Oh my gahhhh!!! What, the cyst? What they drain? Drain the wha, liquid?”

Me: “Well yeah.”

Mom: “Oh my gahhhhhh. It hurt!”

Me: “Hell yeah it hurt, that’s what happens when a doctor uses a needle on your crotch!”

We do this by sales viagra meditating and developing our intuition to know who to interact with and who not to interact with. The pills of this 100mg cialis canada cheap has to be taken by males over 18 years of age. Ache that arises during viagra price ovulation is non-recurring normally. This is particularly mandatory for devensec.com online viagra those upon nitrate drugs used by coronary heart patients.WARNINGS :Tadapox 20mg For Men Impotence to keep a few considerations in mind. Mom: “Be careful when you riding the bike!…I think bike ride have something to do with it!” I could hear her Eureka! moment over the phone, and I’d be proud of her deductive reasoning if I hadn’t just told her how I had gotten the cyst at the beginning of our conversation.

Me: “I just told you it was from the bike ride!”

Mom: “Well you better get rest! Don’t walk around…and stuff.” I don’t want to imagine what she meant by “and stuff.”

Me: “Oh, it’s fine now. The doctor said I don’t need any recovery time or anything. I’m alright.”

Mom: “Oh my gahhhh…crappy church.”

Me: “What?” Where did this church come from? Was she driving?

Mom: “I watching Uh-mer-ee-kun Idol. This black guy Joshua go to home town. His father’s a preacher. It’s really crappy church.”

Me: “…oh.”

Mom: “So crappy. Anyway, I call you in couple days see how you’re feeling. I talk to you later, honey.”

And that’s how I found out a crappy church was more interesting to my mom than her daughter’s embarrassing health issues. Not that I blame her.