A True Story, Mon


The following is based on a true story:

Yesterday I emailed a girl I know to ask her how her mother was. I heard her mother had injured her ankle while attempting an inappropriate move in aerobics class. I sent her one line of email and I simply said; “How is your mon?” With the typo mon instead of mom. It was an honest keyboard error. As the saying goes “Well who tell me say that!” This girl pounced on me via email and in a version of English perfected over the years in rum shops and blogs. This fine female said she thought I was rude and out of place – not the exact words – to ask her about her mon problems and accused me of listening to gossip and she never slept with the mon but only spent the night together in a hotel room. Who would think otherwise, I thought? She went on to say she was a professional and did not need to hunt down no mon and there were many mons after her. I was beginning to wonder what she had against hunting, and what she did to have many mons after her. Well I read through what felt like seven lines of abuse and wondered why me mon, why me.

I will press send after I post this blog and my reply simply says, “I meant, how is your mom?”

4 thoughts on “A True Story, Mon

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