Thursday, May 26, 2011

Really Big Asparagus

My mom tells me a lot of things. Five have stuck with me-

1. Never marry a man that wears matching pajamas.
2. Popping zits should be cathartic for everyone
3. Everything can be related to Sex in the City
4. Sometimes people just need to shut the fuck up
5. Never buy Really Big Asparagus

I haven't met a man that wore matching pajamas that didn’t have the last name of Brady, yet I'm convinced there must be a loophole here. What about Kings? Isn't it a rule that royalty must wear pajamas? I'd like to have seen Henry the VIII run out of his bedroom in just his boxers and a beater. No, royalty rocks the matching pajamas. I refuse to never be a princess because of this.

Some are true however. Just today I said 'All righty', referencing Charlotte's proposal disaster. Two weeks ago, my mom fell in the shower. When describing it to me, all my brain played back was when Miranda screwed up her neck and Aiden saw everything. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you suck. Go watch some quality television and put the damn books down. You're American, now act like it.

One thing, however, I have always listened to is her rule about Really Big Asparagus.

Growing up just her and me, I was always with her when we went to the grocery store and heard her many restrictions-

"Get Granny Smiths individually. The ones in the bag are shitty."
"Cherries are a rip off. Learn to like the Maraschinos, because that's all I'm buyin'."
"Soda is what's killing America. Put it back."

But when buying asparagus, she always went for the thin, bendy, cord-like asparagus. If it was any bigger than a Twizzler, she practically threw it at me.

Terrified from my years of asparagus abuse, I stayed away from Really Big Asparagus until one fateful day.

 You always hear about it happening to other people, but you never think it will happen to you. I was sitting, unbeknownst to me, in a restaurant that served Really Big Asparagus. When it came with my steak, I saw my mother raise her eyebrows at those think cankle-looking asparagus stalks.

Not wanting to raise a scene, I bravely cut a piece off, gritted my teeth and took a bite, waiting for the rapid heartbeat, apocalypse, or certain death my mother's frequent warnings against Really Big Asparagus had made me believe would happen.

Nothing happened, it tasted fine. When I said that to my mother, she shrugged.

"Oh, well. Maybe I was wrong. Look at that ugly family over there."

And just like that, years of fear and doubt about Really Big Asparagus disappeared as we watched a really ugly family eat their dinner.

Moral: Sometimes my mother is wrong. Sometimes Really Big Asparagus is fine. And Sometimes really ugly people are amusing.