Oh Mother.

I am suffering from CPWS -- Cellular Phone Withdrawl Symptom. I left mine at home. It always is the case that when I accidentally leave my phone at home, I always get phone calls. I normally don't get a lot of phone calls (as you can see, most of my life happens on the internet or at work). I mean, heck, my bestfriend doesn't even call. You get the picture.

I called myself, to check my voicemail, and lo and behold, my mother answers. I hate that when I leave my phone around, she just feels free to pick it up and answer it! Not that I have anything to hide, but when people call on someone's cell phone, they assume that it is a private phone used by a single person, unless you tell them otherwise. And it's not like my mom speaks English, so she can't take messages either. So when I get home, I won't have voicemails waiting, but my mom will tell me that "somebody" called.

So when she answered, I asked her why she answered my phone. Instead of answering, she said, "why did you call your own phone?" I told her I wanted to check my voicemail -- but why is she answering my phone? She said that two other phone calls came in earlier and she wanted to answer it to see if it was something important. Ugh. I love my mother to death and I totally appreciate and respect her never-ending love for her children and her willingness to sacrifice her life to bring us (myself and my bro) up. She's a supermom, and I love her. I really do.

Now that we got that squared away, let me rant. She answers my phone. (If you feel that this requires further explanation, you haven't been reading; scroll up.) She wants to do my laundry. After realizing that she shrinks about half my wardrobe (and as scant a wardrobe as it already is!) in the dryer, I specifically told her not to touch any articles of clothing that belongs to me.

When I get mad and start bitching (oh it's so evil and heinous that one would bitch at his/her mother but we all do it, admit it!), she stops doing my laundry. But as the situation gets a bit lax, she starts to take one or two items from my personal laundry basket and washes them. And she gets sneaky about it too. When I interrogate her about why my favorite pair of jeans are missing, she just says that one of her baskets of laundry was a bit empty and she needed add more laundry.

This summer, since I work all the time and have little time for else, I let her slide about swiping my clothes to the laundromat. Then it happened.

A black shirt that I had just bought, that was so slimming, was shrunk. She dried it in the dryer and it shrunk, and now it fits my cat better than it does me. Boy, did I get hopping mad. I don't have very many clothes. I can't have new shirts being shrunken down to fit my cat. I need that shirt!

I also hate pepper. I mean, I don't abhor it in a sense that I have a pepper-phobia. I just prefer not to have any in my soup (Korean soups/stews). I've been saying this for years. I don't like pepper in my soup. Please don't put pepper in my soup. I would appreciate it if you don't sprinkle the pepper in my soup. And all the time, my mother puts pepper in my soup. And every time, I would ask her why she would do such a thing, she tells me that she forgot.

One time, I caught her red-handed. She was puttint pepper in her soup and my brother's soup, looked about, and proceeded to sprinkle some in my soup! When I yelped "MOM!" She jumped. She knew what she did. She knew I didn't want pepper in my soup and yet she still put it in. Who knows why? She hasn't been able to give me a good reason. Am I on candid-camera or something? America's Funniest Home Video? Oh Why oh why oh why?

My mom has a weird method in applying make-up. For some reason, she likes to put it on her face and later, wipe out the excess with toilet paper/tissue/whatever's available. Which is all fine and dandy as long it doesn't affect me. Oh, but it does.

She's big on recycling and re-using. She's the queen mother of frugality -- I'm not the least bit frugal in her eyes, because she is the queen bee of being thrifty. She wipes the foundation off her face and onto the tissue, and leaves it on the sink -- either on top of, or next to my contact lense case. Oh I don't know. Wouldn't you think that it would cross her mine at least once that leaving a "prone-to-bacteria" tissue on top of my lense case would harm me physically? I mean, especially since I told her about 148 times already? I've bitched. I've yelled. I've scolded (I've scolded my own mother!). Nothing works on this woman!

Oh mother.