Sex And The Senile Girl

 

Conversations with my mother can be disturbing (Check out my recent post What Do You Believe In?) but she also makes me laugh. I call every morning to check on her. This morning’s conversation went like this: “Good morning, Mom. What are you doing?”

      

“Same as always. Surviving.”

      

Surviving is her favorite response when asked what she’s doing. “You sound a bit listless. You okay?”

      

“Just tired. Couldn’t sleep last night.”

     

 “Anything bothering you?”

     

 “I’m eighty-seven years old. EVERYTHING bothers me.”

      

“Anything interesting happening at The Lodge?” The Lodge is the name of her retirement facility.

     

 “Yes. We’re getting free HMO for a few days.”

      

“Free HMO?”

     

 “Yes, on the TV.”

      

“Do you mean HBO?”

      

“Stop with the constant corrections. You know what I mean.”

      

“Sorry.”

       

“So last night I watched Libyan porn.”

      

Not something one expects to hear from their mother. “Libyan porn?”

      

“That’s what I said.”

      

Complaining about her retirement home’s TV programming is one of her favorite pastimes. “Mom, I doubt you were getting porn from Libya. I seriously doubt Libya is exporting porn these days. And if they were, your cable provider would probably charge you extra for it.”

      

“Did I say Libyan porn? That isn’t what I meant. I meant Lisbon porn.”

     

 “You’re watching Portuguese people having sex?”

      

I could hear her sigh into the receiver. “Lisping porn! You know—two women.”

      

After letting my mind wrap itself around the notion of lisping porn, I decided to shut her down before this got out of control. “Are you telling me you were watching lesbian porn last night?”

      

“Yes. And they were leaving nothing to the imagination. Hour after hour—they wouldn’t quit.”

      

“So that’s why you’re so tired? You couldn’t sleep because you were up all night watching lesbian porn?”

      

She didn’t answer my question. “You get HMO TV don’t you?”

     

 I nodded at the receiver in my hand and let out a wary, “Yeees.” I had a bad feeling about where this was going.

      

“Do you ever watch porn on TV?”

      

“Absolutely not. Besides, the Internet is packed with porn. I can see anything I want 24/7 on the computer.” Yes, I’m really that stupid.

     

 “Is that what you do all day on that computer? Watch porn? You told me you were writing on the blog thingy of yours.”

      

My mother is an expert at changing the subject, but this time I wasn’t about to let her. “Wait just a minute here. YOU’RE the one watching porn, not me.”

     

 “Well, maybe you and your wife (she seldom calls Mrs. Chatterbox by name) should check out this TV porn. Not the lisping kind; the regular kind. God knows you should exercise more, burn off a few calories.”

      

“Mom?”

     

 “Yes, son?”

      

“Could we please change the subject?”