Good Girls Go to Heaven, Brat Boys Say

My son told me today that he was going to buy a mansion. I asked him first if I was going to get to live in it, and he said yes, but that he was going to charge me rent.

Isn't that so sweet of him?

Then I asked him how he proposed to pay for this fancy mansion he was going to charge his dear old mother rent to live in, and he said he was going to get famous.

When I asked him how he was going to get famous, he said he was going to either be a rock star or get in the Guinness World Book of Records.

I informed him it was the Guinness Book of World Records, and that 1) if he doesn't even know the name of the book, how does he plan to get into the book and 2) that they don't pay people mansion money to get into the book.

Then, to the rock star comment, I reminded him: he can't sing.

My daughter chimed in with, "So? Neither can half the rock stars out there now."

She has a point.

But...

Then, my son continued, in front of the cable internet tech man, to go on by saying, "Well, Ryan's rich."

I laughed so hard.

Seriously, had tears streaming down my face.

While I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe to respond, my son continued to tell the cable man, "Yeah, he makes like $132,000 a year."

Once I was able to catch my breath, I said, "What makes you think that's how much he makes?"

...at the same time the cable man said, "That's not rich."

I then laughed and said, "Well, it's more than I make...LOL."

Cable man said, "Me too...."

That then prompted a discussion about how $132k isn't really good money when the price of diesel is over $4 bucks per gallon.

Which then prompted a discussion about classic cars.

Still, wonder where the brat pulled that number out of his nose?

(shaking head)

"Soooo, if Ryan makes $132,000 a year and that is rich, why am *I* not living in a mansion?" I asked my son.

He said, "Because your stubborn and won't let RT spend any money on you."

I think someone is corrupting my boy... giving him these false (ahem ahem) impressions that I'm stubborn or something.

Either that, or I'm cheap.

Maybe it's both?

Then, my lovely son, decides to give Ryan's truck to the cable guy, if he really wants it. The cable guy asks, "Oh, so you're just giving it to me? Yeah, I'll take it."

"Uhmm, doesn't Ryan have something to say about that, son?"

"No, he's buying a Cougar anyway."

"Uh, Jaguar."

"Yeah, one of those cat cars."

"He's not buying a Jaguar, Aleck."

"Aston Martin?"

"No, honey, because I can't fit in an Aston Martin."

"You're not fat, Mom."

(chuckle) "Never said I was, son. Thanks."

"Yeah, I can almost get my arms all the way around you."

Cable man dies laughing.

So then this song comes on the DMX music station, while the cable guy was packing up, "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere...." by Meatloaf, you know the song? Good song.

"Hey, mom?" the brat chimes in.

"Hummm?"

"Are you a good girl or a bad girl."

"Hey, Aleck, go to your room."

(shrug)

Cable man had to walk out to hide his roaring laughter.