My mom thought it would be cute to regale D with some stories from my childhood when she called this past Sunday. Wait, who the hell am I kidding? She was telling stories simply because the day ended with “y”. I think it’s part of motherhood to have an innate ability to tell the worst stories about your kids. Anyhoo, this is one that D refuses to stop laughing at and has since told a bunch of his friends, who have in turn decided to tease me mercilessly. I really wish I didn’t remember this in such detail, but since half the state of Maryland has heard it, I may as well share it here:
When I was about four or five years old my mom, my brother, me, and my mom’s boyfriend (RIP) went to the movies. Standing in front of us was a very large man wearing Wrangl.er Jeans. You know, the kind with the “W” embroidered on the back? See here:
This was a big azz man so of course his pockets took up maaad space on his behind. DOOOUBBLLEEE-YOUUUU and shyt. My smart, Kindergarten-educated self didn’t know that the “W” represented a brand. Ohhhh nooo, not me. Nevermind the fact that I knew what Levi’s and Sassoon’s were (I’m showing my age with the Sassoons). Nevermind the fact that my brother refused to part with his Lee’s (ol’ New Edition wannabe azz), and all of those brands had their own back pocket designs. Nope.
Me (loud as hell): MAMA!! Do the W’s on the man’s booty mean WIDE??
*mom gives me that ‘I’mma need you to shut up rat now’ look*
Me (still loud): WHAT!!?? Does it mean WIDE?? (Brother’s name), does it mean WIDE or what? Why is mom looking at me like that!!?
Brother (through gritted teeth): Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup!
Me (loud, not seeing the need for the hostility): Is that his SIZE? WIDE? LIKE HIS BUTT?
Mom’s Boyfriend (kind of whispering): No, that’s the brand. And that’s not nice!
Me: So you’re saying W is a brand? I’m not being mean! His butt is WIDE!
*man walks toward the theater*
Brother: Do you see? He moved away because of you.
Me: He’s getting popcorn.
Mom: It’s a brand, child! Wrangler!! Wrangler!! Now stop talking. We need to get popcorn.
Me: How is that? Wrangler starts with an “R”, mommy! His butt pockets are spelled wrong!
Brother: Jesus. I’m going to play a game. I have quarters.
Mom’s Boyfriend: Wrangler is spelled W-R-A-N-G-L-E-R. It’s right.
Me: I don’t like it at all
For whatever reason, I wasn’t pleased with Wrangler Jeans for spelling their brand that way. My mom says after the movie, I asked if I could get help writing a letter to the company to tell them they need to spell the word R-A-N-G-L-E-R instead because the silent “W” wasn’t working for me. I don’t remember all of that, but knowing me…it happened that way.