Day Three

My mother called me today and expressed her disappointment in my not valuing my intellectual capacity to the fullest, urging me toward graduate school or... a boob job--a biweekly harangue that she drips onto my forehead like Chinese water torture.

No matter what I tell my mother, she will not rest until I pursue an MBA or marry a rich man. On the regular, she cites specific episodes of Millionaire Matchmaker as examples for me to follow.

It's ridiculous, but the encouragement from my mother isn't totally deranged. I have been creatively impotent, and I've feared the whole "use it or lose it" adage applies. Which has something to do with why I quit Cafe Gypsy.

As far as her advice on seeking a rich man... well, refer to "Note One" entry. Maybe that Chinese water torture is getting to me.

I still haven't given my mother my notice yet...