I got a phone call from my mother this evening, after she took a trip to Michael's with my father:
Mum: ... and all of the Christmas stuff was half-off! I picked up some things I knew you would like.
Me: (already suspicious) Well, that was sweet of you.
Mum: Yes, there were ornaments all over the walls, and they're easy to make. I picked out ones that only need a glue gun, which I have. I thought that they would make great presents for the baskets next year. And they're crafty! I'm sure you'll have fun making them for me.
Me: ... for you?
Mum: Well, you can make them for you as well.
My father didn't help much, when he got ahold of the phone:
Me: How could you take her to Michael's? Do not let her go near the Hobby Lobby sales. Tell her the car is tired.
Dad: She'd just walk. Look upon it like outsourcing.
Me: ...
Dad: She's like a major company outsourcing the raw materials to be turned into a finished product and mailed back. You're a link in the corporate chain. Like China. Or Thailand.
Me: You take my mother to Michael's and then try to make me feel better by calling me China?
Dad: Or Thailand.
Me: Let me know before she sends the box out. So I can actually move to China. Or Thailand. Without a forwarding address.
06 January 2008
Go East, Young Woman
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Talk about Phone Call of Doom.
Every time my mom comes to visit me, she brings stacks of newspaper and magazine clippings. Which is sweet, because she thinks of me. And not so much, because I have enough paper floating around.
this sounds like the shenanigans my parents would pull off. If you need to start a support group, I'm there. Also, remember that I am also part of the slave labor in China. Or Thailand.
That's fabulous. My mom just taught me to crochet, but the fun was instantly sapped out of it when she told me that I was now skilled enough to create products for her craft business.
I'm moving to Antarctica. Nobody outsources to Antarctica.
K.
Post a Comment