Mom comes down this weekend and we join my aunt and cousin for dinner at the Mall of America. As soon as the meal concludes she becomes paranoid about making a movie we haven’t even decided on. I tell her I’m going to stop at Charlotte Russe quick while they pay and to call me when they leave the restaurant. She spots me just as I’m about to try on a dress.. A concerned panic washes over her face, “Angela, we’re going to miss the movie! What are you doing?”
“I’ll meet you there,” I call over my shoulder as I disappear into the changing room.
I stare in horror at my reflection and instantly realize why the little dress was on clearance. I quickly return the merchandise to the sale rack and rush out of the store. I spot Steph on my way to the elevator and tell her that we’re meeting our moms at the theater.
I call mom as we’re waiting for the elevator. “Who is this,” she asks suspiciously. “What are you talking about? Where are you you?” I say in annoyance.
“Oh!” she says suddenly, “they’re locking us in!”
“I thought I was meeting you there,” I say in exasperation. “We were sitting in the store waiting for you,” she says, “I don’t know how you made it past me!”
“Well, meet us at the elevator,” I tell her. A few minutes later I see them book it around the corner and I begin to motion wildly shouting hurry. Mom breaks into a sprint and dives in just as the elevator is closing. She immediately starts jabbering about how the store closed on them, “Oh that was so scary,” she breathes, “they just started closing the gate with us inside!”
It seems we make an entire loop around the mall before we find the theater. Mom keeps shouting at Steph and I to “go ahead,” even though we are walking as fast as humanly possible. The only movie that starts around ten and looks mildly interesting is Get him to the Greek. Steph and I convince the moms to take us to this movie. I’m terrified the movie will shatter mom’s innocence. I have no clue what the movie is about–only having heard that it was funny– but I’m certain it’s chalked full of sexual innuendos, profanity, and college humor.
Mom and Robby follow us blindly into the theater where the ticket girl tells me I must either throw away my take home, eat it, or return it to my car. “I have nowhere to put it,” I gush in annoyance. “I’m sorry,” she says firmly, “but it’s a liability.” “Ya,” mom says, “you could have drugs in it or something.” Highly unlikely.
The opening credits feature a man grinding and singing a song entitled African Child which is intended to be extremely offensive and ridiculous. “Is this it?” mom gasps in horror. Now I’m absolutely certain this movie with scar her for life. I laugh nervously. I finally relax when P. Diddy comes on camera and tells Jonah Hill it’s all about mind fucking, “Do you feel my dick in your head? I’m mind fucking you right now.” Jonah Hill stares nervously at P. Diddy and says, “I hope you’re wearing a condom, cause I have a dirty mind.” Mom snorts and bursts out laughing, “That was a good one,” she says happily. I’m shocked. Perhaps I’ve underestimated her.
The show continues on its parade of ridiculousness and mom seems to be enjoying herself. “That was funny,” mom says as we leave the theater. She dances a little jig on the way down the escalator and continues her hysteria all the way to the car. Clearly it’s past her bed time.
I figure I will continue the mood and blare my rap music in the car. She instantly throws up her hands to cover her ears, “You’re hurting me!” she screams in agony. “I can already feel the muscles in my neck tightening!” “You’re fine,” I say turning the volume up a notch in defiance. “Please Angela!” mom begs from the backseat. Apparently she has had all the fun she can handle for one night.
