Vig

Not sure if I mentioned this before, but my mother has been a loan shark for approximately 35 years. Well, I'm not sure loan shark is the correct term. She gives short term loans to people at insane interest rates. Is that a loan shark? It's not as bad as it sounds. She only has one client that I know of. His name is Dean Lebowitz. Actually I changed his name to protect him. Fine, I'm lying that is his real name. He was the gym teacher at the school my mother worked at. I'm not sure what his problem was or how he found my mother, but for some reason he would constantly borrow money from Sybil at interest rates that would make people with the worst credit blush. I assume he had an insane OTB habit. There was no other reason he would borrow like he did. To his credit he did always pay on time or I should pays on time because even though he is retired, as is my mother, he still appears from time to  time to borrow a hundo here or there. The best part about this is my mother would make him sign a hand scribbled note that he was borrowing the money and that he was okay with paying the absurd interest. Now I'm no police officer but something tells me this whole transaction could land Sybil in the slammer. Hell what do I know. Here is a picture of Sybil at her desk.

Only a true baller wears sunglasses inside.

Tired

Over the last couple of days I have been so exhausted from Sybil calling me fifty times a day, trying to explain to me why she should be allowed to go home from therapy after two days that I've had no energy to write about how my mother screamed that she should have whipped the shit out of me in front of her neurologist when I told her to calm down. I should have some energy tomorrow. In the meantime check out this picture I found of my mom. It looks like the type of picture hung up on a police bulletin board, at the top of course to show her importance to the investigation.

Get me a body bag

So my time in Hillsdale is coming to a close. My mother has a new knee and for the most part has her wits about her again. She only thinks the nurses in the hospital are in a cult and they took her outside to shit in the bushes, but besides that she is doing great. Spending this much time with Sybil might cause some people to fall apart, but not me. I'm strong. With that I will break down everything I ate and drank over the last week by the numbers:

• 6 slices of pizza
• 3 cheeseburgers
• 1 hamburger
• 1 hotdog
• 2 mini cheeseburgers
• 6 White Castle burgers
• 1 order of onion rings
• 5 orders of fries
• 1 egg roll
• 1 order of egg foo young
• 1 order of shrimp and lobster sauce
• 2 taylor ham, egg, and cheese sandwiches (possibly a third if I can tell the future)
• 1 malted milkshake
• 3 scoops of ice-cream in a sundae from Friendly's
• 5 cheese sticks
• 1 lobster roll
• 2 bagels with lox spread
• 1 bag of honey roasted peanuts
• 3 granola bars
• 1 ice cream bar
• 1 blueberry cobbler
• 16 beers

At least I don't have to worry about getting old.

Editor's note - Forgot to mention some terrible sushi, Japanese potato salad, a bottle of sake, and two more beers in Pearl River.

This is how you got shit done before email.

I could explain this letter, but I think it speaks for itself.

It's all going to be alright

Over the last few days, things got pretty hairy with Sybil. She had her knee replaced and I don't know if it was the combo of drugs or what, but she got it into her head that she was kidnapped and being held prisoner at the hospital. Of course I somehow was to blame for this. When things really went nuts they had her strapped down. It was like a dream come true. She would call my brother and ask him to call the police. To be honest I was pretty worried that this was permanent. I am ill equipped to have to care for her. Her doctors told me not to worry. The technical term for what she was experiencing was 'bat shit crazy.' Actually I think it was the mixing of drugs that set her off and it was supposedly going to pass. Hell just as I was about to clear out her bank account, she called me and asked me to visit. I went up to see her and she seemed okay. Finally I knew she was back to normal when we had the following conversation:

Sybil: Did you use the credit card I left on the counter?
Barry: Yeah once or twice. I think I got a bagel.
Sybil: How much did you spend?
Barry: I don't know.
Sybil: I need a total for when I pay the bill on the phone.
Barry: Won't they just give you your balance when you call?
Sybil: No it doesn't work that way. They just ask how much I want to pay.
Barry: Okay.
Sybil: You didn't use the credit card to take out your friends did you????

At that moment I knew she was going to be alright.

This picture was shockingly not taken recently.

Rough Day

Today was a bit of a hard day.  Sybil was confused to say the least. Her pain drugs have sent her on a weird trip. I don't want to get to into it, so instead I've decided to lighten the mood by posting a picture of my brother dressed as my mother. Enjoy.

So...

It looks like the blog will live. Sybil pulled through her surgery with flying colors.  It is actually amazing. She just had one of the most painful surgeries you could think of and she hasn't complained once about her knee. This is even after they made her walk on it. She has however complained about the following:

• The room is too hot
• No one calls her
• I don't stay long enough
• I'm fresh
• She's nauseous 
• She has Parkinson's
• Her chest hurts - made them check to see if she had a heart attack. She was eating Jello when she asked.
• She can't stop peeing
• Nothing tastes good
• The mattress doesn't feel good

After complaining for 24 hours straight, Sybil's roommate in a full back brace looked like she was going to lose her mind. Suddenly Sybil was moved to her own room. I sat with her for an hour while she counted everyone else's money that she had ever met. I screamed why don't we count yours. She then proceeded to rattle off numbers at me that were clearly lies. At this point I got up and walked out with her screaming my name behind me. I went to DairyQueen and got a vanilla malt. All in all not a bad day.

Figured this was a fitting picture. It was my mother yelling at me for wasting film.

Yup this happened.

Since Sybil didn't want to go to the Kosher Nosh for dinner I suggested Chinese. She told me she hated Chinese, but wanted to know anyway what I would get. I said why would it matter if we aren't getting it with which she responded okay let's get Chinese. We went to a take out place and I insisted she wait in the car since her knee hurts. Well from inside the Chinese place I could see the car and the following transpire:

Sybil flings car door open.

Random woman walks over to the car.

Sybil starts handing her trash, used napkins, empty soda cans, etc.

The woman stands there for five minutes talking to Sybil.

I walk out of the Chinese place and the woman tells me she had two knee replacements too. She wished Sybil luck and walked away.  I asked Sybil why she was holding all her trash. "Well she was walking by so I asked her to throw some things away."

Okay I guess that makes total sense.

For some reason my head hurts

So being that Sybil is 76 year old and about to have major surgery I figured it would be a good time to ask about her having things in order. Now I could go into how she of course thinks I want her dead to spend her money on action figures, but that is too easy. When asked, she basically accused me of killing my father because after two strokes, a heart attack and being unresponsive for a month I took him off life support.  Actually her exact words were I did that "real fast." She also mentioned that she knows I don't like her and I will do the same to her. When pressed about her will she produced a shopping bag filled with Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons and her last will and testament. Not being able to hold my temper in check, I started screaming how the fuck would I have found that if I didn't ask. Well, it was in the other room.  Of course, clearly I need to open my eyes. After going back and forth a bit, she told me each grand child gets $50k. Louise get's some money and the first thing I'm to do upon her death is identify her body and use her money to buy a mausoleum as she doesn't want to be in the ground. I'm picturing burning her like Darth Vader.

At that point in the conversation I ran away to my bedroom where she followed me and argued about not wanting to eat at the Kosher Nosh for dinner.

Actual bag that holds her Will.

Onto a forth set

I just walked in on my mom watching Wimbledon topless. I really don't deserve this.

I've arrived

So I woke up at 3am to make my flight. Other than a baby coughing on me it was pretty uneventful. I got to Sybil's around 12 hours minus a time change later and immediately requested a nap. Sybil wanted me to sit and talk instead. Oh goody! After hearing that her house is a mess because I have my childhood toys in a box in my room and that her legs hurt from being dehydrated and not Parkinson's, I passed out. Thankfully I was able to get her some Gatorade to restore her electrolytes before it was too late. It is going to be a long long visit. Did I mention I have Simpson (Bart not OJ) sheets on my bed and when I'm done with my computer I plan to look at a Playboy from 1989?

Two days till surgery.