So it’s like halfway through the evening, completely dark and we’ve got the heating turned up to about 30 degrees because it’s absolutely freeeeezing outside. For wont of anything more interesting to do (I know, I know, I really need to get a life), I was sitting on the couch next to my mother watching an unbelievably tacky karaoke VCD. It’s featuring this baby-faced woman in extremely dated clothing – but not of the oh-so-cool back in fashion retro kind – with silver sequins stuck on every available inch of her sack dress BLINDING me through the television monitor. The blue words scrolling across the screen are fuzzy and unintelligible and the music is at least two seconds ahead of the performer’s singing. So the disembodied voice is projecting from the speakers but honey, the lips ain’t moving! And it was that very specific late-70s/early-80s corny female love ballad. What was even sadder was the earnestness with which the woman serenades you with ‘you ask me how much I love you… the moon represents my heart’ though quite frankly I don’t understand how the moon representing your heart can be a good thing as it is a million miles away, filled with craters and not even visible half the time. AND she’s holding this little fluffy dog about thirty years before people like Paris Hilton made the little fluffy dog a must-have fashion accessory.

Then there are these gag-inducing panoramic shots of some heavily industrialized city at nighttime, panning out into a shot of a cardboard cutout of a Jackie Chan look-alike and some random woman in a passionate embrace propped up next to a car. It was SO LAME. So lame it was hilarious. So I’ve burst out laughing and Mother Dearest is looking at me like I’ve just sprouted antennae or something and she’s just like, what’s so funny?

Sometimes, I lose any hope I ever had for my mother completely…

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