i got a reprieve from the last night of bowling to help my mom pack. only i didn’t do so much packing as i did watching sitcom reruns of friends and roseanne. my punshiment, i had to buy her dinner. not that i really minded since she bought me dinner last night.

i let her pick. that was my first mistake.

she suggested mcdonalds or arbys. since i am morally opposed to mickey d’s, arbys it was. since i had to pay and i had a vehicle, i thought i would be sent out alone to forage for food. sadly, that was not the case. mom grabbed her purse and out to ruby we went.

you can probably understand her excitement a little bit, being that this was her first chance to catch a ride in ruby and as we all know ruby’s like the superswank radmobile.

if only i had known what such a high level of excitement would do to my normally mild-mannered mother.

we pull up to the drive through and i order her the heartattack special with a diet coke. i order me the heartattack special with bacon and a diet coke. then arbyguy asks if i would like any sauce or ketchup.

this is when all hell broke loose.

as i was about to answer him, mom pipes up from the passenger seat:
“I’D LIKE SOME BARBECUE SAUCE!” she screams
“umm, yes we’d like some horsey sauce and arby’s sauce,” i say like a normal sane person into the drive thru thing.
“NO! I WANT SOME BARBECUE SAUCE, THE SQUARE KIND,” my mom shouts again from the passenger seat, this time making a square with her fingers in the hopes that the arbyguy can see through walls and into ruby.
“mom, he can’t see you,” i say to her. “and some of the barbecue sauce in the square container too, please,” i say to the drive thru thing.
“you’re total is 11—”
“DON’T FORGET THE BARBECUE SAUCE, THE SQUARE KIND,” my mom shouts.

we pull ahead and i chastise her because now i don’t know how much to write the check for. arbyguy tells me and so i write out the check. mom starts digging in her pockets for money– even though it’s been made clear that i have to buy dinner.

“what are you doing?”
“well sometimes the assholes make you pay for the square barbecue sauce,” she explains.
“umm, did you know you are insane?”
“i’m not insane, i just want to make sure i get the barbecue sauce.”
“mom, you are crazy.”
“jodi, i am not.”
“yes, yes you are.”

as arbyguy peeps his head out with a look of utter terror on his face, i hand him my check.

“DON’T FORGET THE BARBECUE SAUCE, THE SQUARE KIND,” mom shouts to him, “DO YOU WANT ME TO PAY FOR IT?”

the poor arbyguy just shakes his head no and goes to fetch our bag of heartattacks.

“mom you are totally insane. i bet they call you the crazy barbecue lady. they probably know you. i bet they are all laughing at you, crazy barbecue lady!”

arbyguy comes back and hands me the bag.

“i put the barbecue sauce in there, you’re good to go he says.”

mom laughs. i tell her how crazy she is all the way home. it doesn’t seem to phaze her in the least.

upon arriving back at the homefront, i ask sister #4 if she had any idea that mom was insane.

“the barbecue sauce?” she asks.
“yes! you knew about this?”
“yes,” she says, “the square kind. not any of the arby’s sauce, it’s just doesn’t taste as good. i want the square kind,” she said forming her fingers into a square and imitating my mom.
“you guys,” mom said trying to get us to stop.
“shut up barbecue,” i said.

and she did.

we’re thinking of calling a doctor tomorrow.