08.20.02 // 6:33 p.m.
My mother is horrible.
Me: Hey, guess who's here.
Mom: �Qui�n?
Me: El Guero (what she calls Dom)
Mom: He's there right now? In LA?
Me: Yeah, well he's hanging out with his friend since I had to work.
Mom: Dile que se porta bien; que se lo amare. [tell him to behave; to tie it up.]
Me: ��Que se lo amare?! Mom!
Mom: I got to go.
Me: 'Bye.
So, I find it funny that my mother told me to tell HIM to behave. See, they assume that I'll be good. I know they raised me to be like that, but they don't realize I have a mind of my own and question those values they hold onto so tightly. I'll pass the message on to my redhead, but I don't know if my mom really has to worry about him too much, since it does take two...
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