The phone rings at 11am on a Tuesday in the office and I know who it is. Nobody calls me this early because when I was still full time modeling I slept till 2pm on non work days.
Obviously, it is my mother.
Brie: 'Yes móomiekins?' (I call my dad Dude-dy)
Moo: 'Just calling to check up on you. You never call, how will I know if everything is ok?'
Brie: 'But everything is ok ma, as usual, I just saw you on Sunday.'
Moo: 'Ok. Are you in the office yet?'
Brie: 'Yes..........ma.' *ignores colleagues raised eyebrows*
Moo: 'Keep in touch ok. Will call you for dinner this weekend. And don't drink so much it's bad.'
Brie: 'Ok, bye!' *smiles awkwardy at colleagues and say dismissively, Moms.
My mother blames my coughs/rashes/bruises/migraines/random back aches to alcohol -_____--- She hates drinking which is ironic because my dad was with Carlsberg for 7 years and Martell for 2. So to not worry her I under play my drinking and say i drink once a week. But knowing her daughters bad habits, she never buys it. So she counter-intelligences me and intends to nag me to my grave a lot faster than the drinking actually will and bought me Milk Thistle supplements for insurance.
It is evident she loves my liver more than I do.
Mostly because she'd like to think she owns my liver.
Love me moom :)