kinky perv: like Mother, like daughter

Each week, I chat with my mom on the phone about the mundane things in (her) life. She tells me what she’s watching on TV, what she’s knitting, the condition of whatever ailment she’s enduring, and what she ate that day. If she asks me anything about my life at all, there are two definite questions she’ll ask. The first is: What are you knitting? Now, she know that I don’t knit. I took a lesson or two from Jesse last year, but it amounted to only frustration and an inferiority complex. My response is always the same, “I don’t have to knit anything, I just take credit for making the things that you give me.” Then she asks me what I’m reading. While the honest answer is “SMUT!” I usually shy away from sharing the truth and mutter something about work-related books.

I dodged her ever-famous question while reading my favorite book from last year-- Augusten Buroughs' memoir “Running with Sciscors,” about his real-life screwed up childhood. The book dabbles in pedophelia, anal rape, alcoholism and smoking crack. Not quite what you wanna suggest for you mum's next book group.

Last week, I started a new book called, innocently enough “Kissing in Manhattan.” So I was happy to finally share a title with her, since she rips through about a dozen books a week, making me look like some kind of primate version of real offspring. She asked about the book and I told her what I knew at that point, “It’s about the lives of people who have lived in this apartment building called the Preemption in Manhattan. Some of the stories are current and some are about people who lived their in the past, and sometimes the characters lives overlap and sometimes they don’t.” Well, a few chapters later one of the main characters starts tying women up in silk and holding a knife to their throats while providing oral sex. There is some romance between the chapters of pure kink and racy bondage, but only a bit. How can I give a 68 year-old woman this book to read that has entire scenes that take place in sextoy shops that sell orfice fucktoys? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great book with lots of mystery, intrigue and seduction. I just hope she remembers our conversation as one where I was watching a movie about Manhattan.

Now I’m reading this book called “Brass,” by Helen Walsh. In the first chapter, after getting it on with a hooker, the main character Millie is explaining the difference between her best mate's girlfriend and herself. This is how she describes it: "The major difference being that when I see a mother and toddler in the street, the first thought that flips through my head is how much easier my fist will slide in now that she's been stretched by child birth." Ha! The rest of the book is about cocaine-fueled rampages of bisexuality, drug trips and raunchy sex. I can't let my mother read a book that contains more than one rimming scene! Then again, she does watch men give each other blowjobs on Queer as Folk, so perhaps this book would be the perfect mother's day gift.