My Mother Is CRAZY. And I Mean It This Time.

Ohmigod, my mother's insane. Like, even crazier than her usual background crazy. Crazier than giving us the sex talk in Eduardo's every month for four months. Crazier than regaling us with tales of her stripper-exploits (oh, yes, she did. In public. Three times.).

I was going to go to sleep and then the phone in my room rang. And rang. And rang, forever.

And then someone came up and taped a note to my door. And the then the phone rang some more.

And then I grabbed the note and it reads "Christina, please call your mother. She has been trying to get ahold of you & is worried."

Stupid, overprotective, clingy mother. I left Richard a message Friday. I was obviously alive six days ago. It is not yet time to call my school and make them track me down.

So. Crazy.

ETA: So. Next time I'm calling her right off. Because you know what she did? Had the cops come check on me. You know what? From now on, I win every game of crazy-family oneupmanship ever, unless your parents forced you into a cult or sold you for magic beans.