Only. . . and I mean O-N-L-Y. . . in A Mom on Spin's tee-pee could the following happen over the Thanksgiving weekend:
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After preparing (okay, serving . . .I may not have actually prepared all of it. . . ) the grand Thanksgiving feast, the overworked, overtired, and over-all over-spun mother of three daughters finds it necessary to report to work on the day after Thanksgiving in order to attend to a ill-timed funeral (for aren't the old folks supposed to die after the holidays, not before????) and to complete a project the likes of which will no-doubt be seen one day on To Catch a Predator. And - since all three of her daughters are flat-broke at the present time - this mother offers to pay a salary to her college-aged daughter (a.k.a. She-Who-Is-Most-Broke) to come in and help her.
But - alas - when push comes to shove the next morning, She-Who-Is-Most-Broke cannot rouse herself out of bed on time (tell me.. . . are we still wondering why she's having a wee-bit of attendance trouble with her 8:00 a.m class????) and the wild war-cries of her mother. . . . offering the salary to anyone within earshot . . .are then broadcast loudly throughout the tee-pee.
And so it was that a younger, more-industrious-and-you-might-say-sometimes-scheming-daughter (who also happens to be without income. . . ) heard her mother's plea and, although she was dressed to go to a spin class at the local gym (I know, ironic. . . isn't it???) agrees to report to work with her mother.
It is now abundantly clear that She-Who-Is-Industrious has found favor in her mother's eye, and after a most-productive day, mother and daughter return home.
The mother and Chief-Who-Dries-By-Dripping then proceed to travel to a nearby tribal family's wigwam to drink the peace-wine and eat the newly-killed-pizza.
While She-Who-Is-Industrious quickly discovers that she - too - wants to go to a pow wow, but is in need of a quick infusion of wampum to fund her "activities".
But then - while in the midst of stealing the right regalia to wear for the night - She-Who-Is-Industrious-But-Sometimes-Duplicitous then spies a debit card on She-Who-Is-Most-Broke's bedroom floor.
And because it looks exactly like She-Who-Is-An-Unsuspecting-Mom-on-Spin's debit card, She-Who-Is-Now-Totally-Duplicitous takes it . . .rationalizing that if her sister had possession of Mom's card, then no one could possibly blame her for a little withdrawal while in the sister's supposed possession. . . .and after-all. . . her mother is going to pay her for her day's work. . . and she'll just view this as a little advance. . .
And She-Who-Is-No-Longer-Industrious-but-Solely-Duplicitous withdraws a grand total of $10 from what she thinks is her mother's account.
But, alas, it turns out the card Ponzi (I mean . . .She-Who-Was-At-One-Time-Viewed-As-Industrious-and-In-Favor ) lifted belonged to She-Who-Was-Most-Broke who, coincidentally, chose the same PIN number her mother had always employed (because we'd be well-within our rights to also refer to her as She-Who-Is-Most-Lazy. . . stay with me here. . . this stuff is important!!!!!!) and who, earlier that day, had used that very same card in a local diner and knowingly depleted the last of the savings from her summer job - leaving a grand total of three (that's right. . . T-H-R-E-E!!!) dollars in her account to get her through to next summer.
And, before you know it, the unsympathetic, unfeeling, and uncompromising bank had the nerve to levy a whopping $34 in overdraft fees on the unknowing, unwitting, and unsuspecting She-Who-Is-Now-More-Broke-Than-Ever's account - leaving her $41 in the negative.
And . . . when all of the above was discovered earlier today by She-Who-Works-Hard-For-the-Wampum (a.k.a. A Mom on Spin. . .) let's just say that She-Who-Was-At-One-Time-Viewed-As-Industrious will - from this day forward - be known as She-Who-Is-Now-Forever-In-The-Doghouse. . .
And as to She-Who-Is-Most-Veggie. . . . if you think she survived this weekend unscathed, let me just tell you that her new name is She-Who-Travels-Long-Distances-To-March-In-Silly-Peace-Rally-Instead-Of-Hunting-For-Job.
How? You say.
How? You say.
Now that's a tribal legend to be told another day. . .
