Fund Razor?

I’ll sell doughnuts but not makeup!

My mom and I, were talking about tv programs at dinner tonight.

My son loves to say “poop,” because he knows that my mother goes crazy when he says this. It is always followed by her response, “We never said that in our house.” This is when he slyly looks at me, and we share a knowing laugh. He knows that my house was no, Leave it to Beaver, experience. My mom wasn’t June Cleaver, and we had a lot of words flying, but my mom swears, that “poop,” wasn’t one of them. “Only pigs use that word,” she says.
Of course, she’s right. When I was young, I didn’t hear her swear. Well, if she was really angry, a “damn,” might fly, and ‘Hell,” was accepted. But never anything like, “Poop!”
But that was, her. Not us. And now, she’s telling us about another household, or family. I sure know she isn’t talking about us. I remember when he was asking her, “Well, grandma, what did you say if your kids had an accident?” “I said, you messed yourself.” Now I cracked up, as my son was laughing so hard. He repeated, “Oh no! You messed your dress!”
Then she told us that when she was a kid, her friend, called it, “ca-ca, and making bubbles.” At this, my son covered his ears, and was singing, “La-La-La-La-La! Grandma! You tell me only pigs say,”poop,” but I can’t eat, when I’m listening to this! Making bubbles and ca-ca!”
I was laughing so hard now, I couldn’t stop. My mom and my son go at it all the time. He loves to get a rise out of her and she gives him just what he wants.
Whenever he starts this conversation she tells him, “There’s no such word as poop. Only poop deck and pooped out.” Never mind, that he has no idea, what either one of these expressions, really means. He tells her, “Yes, there is! You can even look it up in the dictionary! It’s on tv too!”
“Well, that’s the problem with tv,” she states. Now I join in. “Yea, the commercials alone, would have been rated R, years ago. I mean look at the Victoria’s Secret commercials.”
Now my son rises from the table and says, “Oh, that reminds me. Now my school wants us to sell Avon, for a fund-raiser.” “What??? Are you kidding?” I ask.
“No, look and you should see the catalogue.” He pulls it out of his bag and on the front is a sexy looking, Fergie. He fans through it and there he points to a page, with a woman in her bra. “Look at this. And he begins to turn page after page, to show women in all states of undress.  I begin to wonder, “Just when did Avon, begin selling bra’s and why would my 12 year old son be involved in that endeavor? “Ok,” I said. This is ridiculous enough, to ask a bunch of middle and junior high boys to sell makeup and perfume. But carry around books like these?” I smell trouble. I had a flashback to my brother and his friends when they had found someones stash of Playboy magazines, at the river across the street. They hid them again, so they could keep returning. I never knew who ended up with those magazines, but I’m quite sure no one ever threw them away.
I can also guarantee, that this ploy to get these boys to sell Avon, is going to come crashing down. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they keep requesting the sales materials.
I was a bit suspicious a few years back, when the teachers needed to ask parents to bring supplies for the school year. But when I realized that they were receiving 30 giant bottles of germicide, and unlimited supplies of room deodorizer and tissues, I realized that perhaps, some of us were supplying their own needs. I was waiting for the request for, coffee, hair dye, deodorant and razors.
Happy to say that hasn’t happened yet. But, if my son comes home to tell me that he’s selling the Hooter’s Wing Sauce, I’m putting my foot down!