From a blog I used to have called Otherpeoplesblogs.
My mother, like mothers all across this great nation, had the full Erma Bombeck library. (Or should I say, mothers from all ends of the middle class landscape. They probably sold the books at Talbots to go with their sweaters and scarves.) Quite funny stuff, although a bit dated by the time I read them sometime in the 1980’s.
“Does This Mean I’m a Grown-Up?” is a more casual, frazzled Erma. Some great posts on how her mother feeds the kids candy, or the how the rules are different for her kids than they were for her.
I love that she crashed her husband’s bachelor party with her girlfriends drunk, wearing mud masks, hair rollers, slippers, and big pajamas just as the strippers were rolling around and jello-wrestling. (For the record, they only crashed for 15 minutes.)
I miss wishing Erma Bombeck would die.
It is not like she’s Bill Keane.
Being the gigantic-ass dork I was in high school, I can remember several heated arguments on the concern of whether Dave Barry could kick Bombek’s ass in a hand-to-hand death match. I’d ardently stick up for Barry and certainly wish bad things upon Bombek’s lemon-sucking visage.
You know, that is the kindest thing anyone has ever said. I like to think of myself as a cross between Erma and Roseanne Barr (two of my favorite parenting styles). I read the Erma books growing up. They’re all tattered and torn now that they’ve been passed to me. Several have been lost. I keep saying I want to get the entire collection in hard back to read and re-read again.
Thanks for such sweet words.
Oh…and you did see the bachelor party picture right? ;)
Saw the pic. Classic!