Sunday night, 6: 28pm
RB: Hi Grandma, It’s RB.
Grandma: Well, who’s this?
RB: It’s me. RB.
Grandma: RB! Your phone is terrible.
RB: Yeah, I know.
Grandma: So do you have a date tonight?
RB: Um, it’s Sunday.
RB: So my Good Friend is coming to put new handle bars on my bike.
Grandma: Well. Tell him I saw hi…ANYWAY.
Grandma: You can be just friends. You’re just friends, and that’s all. Remember dear, you’re not getting married! You have things to do.
RB: I know, I’m not getting married. No one gets married till they’re 35 these days. You don’t have to worry.
Grandma: What? You want to get married?? You are not getting married!
RB: I know, Grandma. I’m definitely not getting married.
Grandma: You know what? If you want to get married, fine. But just make your own decisions! You don’t need anyone else’s advice.
RB: I’m not getting married or asking for advice. I just called to say hi.
Grandma: For god sake’s RB, grow up! You’re not a joke. You’re an adult. Stop asking me what to do. Stop asking your mother what do to do. You can make your own decisions. I mean, you’re an adult. And you’re kind of smart. But you don’t need to get married.
RB: Right..umm….so I wrote a blog post about you! I called you the Carrie Bradshaw of the 40s.
Grandma: Print it out! I want to show everyone at the hospital where I volunteer.
RB: But then everyone will think you’re Carrie Bradshaw.
Grandma: Who’s she?
RB: The star of Sex And the City.
Grandma: Well, I would never watch that. But everyone at the hospital already thinks I’m swinger.
Grandma: Men 20 years younger than me! They love me. They always get very sad if I leave early.
RB: I’m sure they do.
Grandma: Ok, RB. Just remember, please stop asking for my advice. I love you!
*note. This conversation has been somewhat altered to make it sound even more ridiculous than it actually was. But nothing cures Sunday night blues like a splash of poetic license.