So this mom walks into a bar...

Every few months, not nearly often enough, my mom comes down to San Diego to visit and relax. This time was extra special for two reasons: she was going to meet my boyfriend and she was lucky enough to deal with the aftermath of my little sister's car accident (she's fine, it's funny, I promise). My initial plan for when she arrived on Friday afternoon was to have a nice relaxing night drinking wine, eating mexican food, and watching Friday Night Lights. 

She raised 4 girls. She's seen it all.

Because Friday must've been International Opposite Day, instead of relaxing Friday night we ended up out in Pacific Beach at the request of my little sister's boyfriend. PB is where you go to get drunk or get laid. Not necessarily where I wanted to take my mom. Luckily, she has a great sense of humor and adventure and willingly drank beer, took fireball shots, and laughed at the skanky humans in the disgusting nightclub we ended up at.  There was also some sort of ladies soccer team there. In their soccer gear. Dancing. At one point, one of the more masculine soccer players started battling a guy on the dance floor and I (ALLEGEDLY) shouted, "Go, Lesbian! YEA!" Which was apparently the most offensive thing of the evening.

The next night after a lovely dinner in Old Town in which mom got to meet my boyfriend and approve of him (naturally), we got to help Brittany fill out her claim for her car accident. This is important because: my mom learned how to draw, Brittany learned how to spell, and Brittany learned that we do in fact live in Southern California (not Northern...seriously. We live 20 minutes from the Mexican border.)

As if that wasn't overdramatic enough, my precious JMEOWW decided to act like my mother was a third-class citizen. You see, since the invasion of the fleas (which that nightmare is finally fucking over and I can go back to being a normal human that isn't vacuuming and crying and scratching every second of the day) the meoww hasn't quite been herself.  When my mom has visited in the past, meoww has been very excited and lovely. This time, she was an absolute fucking terror.

Laser eyes prove she is not a real animal.

My mom, like a good grandma, always brings a few little toys for J. When she presented them to her, J looked at them and walked away. Like a true spoiled asshole. Then in the morning when my mom wanted to lay on my bed, J literally refused to move from the spot she was in. So I scooted her and she hissed. Naturally. Not once, but THREE times. Then she sat on the end of the bed and glared at my mother as if she was plotting her painful death. Then, because apparently she felt she wasn't getting her point across, she moved swiftly and violently back and forth between the windowsill above my bed and this nice little spot in the closet where she could keep her eyes on mom. Nice work, JMEOWW. 

After a nice breakfast and a little walk through one of San Diego's finer beaches, Ocean Beach (home to hippies and crackheads galore), mom headed home. Although it was probably not as relaxing as she hoped, it was a very lovely weekend and I truly hope that we didn't scare her away with venereal-ridden nightclubs and sociopathic animals.

Linking up with the lovely ladies of Join the Gossip, Sami's Shenanigans, and five30three for their weekend update bloghop.*

 *not featuring Jimmy Fallon, Amy Poehler, or Norm MacDonald.

Pacific Beach on Dwellable