My ma gone crazy or I won’t be son number two until next year.

Hello blog readers! Need your Palmer in the poo fix? Missing the view from the dung heap of life? Need some laughter to make your day? Here it is. Don’t let the poo hit the fan with you near!

I’m reading about Chester Carlson, the inventor of the photo copier machine. When he was growing up, his pa went crazy for about year moving his family around California, starting a medical business and due to his dad’s crippling arthritis, little eight year old Chester, had to work 4 hours each day to help support his mother and his pre-tuberculosis father. Well, I think my ma has gone crazy too!

She recently had a birthday last week and being the good son, (in a fake Peter Seller’s Chinese accent) son number two, that is, I planned a nice family dinner at a yuppie Westside restaurant of her choice. If you know my mom, she is a foodie and eats organic whenever possible despite her lifestyle choice of living in one of the most polluted cities in America and breathing in the inch of dust residue that resides on her furniture. I love my mom; she is very nice and unselfish and when it comes to thinking about other peoples’ feelings and needs, she is the best.

As with every birthday in recent memory, she is annoyingly indecisive about where she wants to eat. Every year, there are a dozen phone calls about restaurant choices, coordinating times and getting a head-count. It's always stressfull because she will say, “Whatever the family wants, is fine with me.” But I always interject: “But Mom, it’s your birthday! It’s your special day. Where do you want to go eat?” After the third or fourth phone call with my mom, I call my uncle who is the opposite and selects an expensive yuppie Italian restaurant where the pasta serving is four ounces and $24. In the end, it's my uncle who decides where to eat.

I always present my mom with three nice and expensive restaurants she can choose from. I make sure that she's already eaten and approved of, in her Zagat rating way. Well, this year, I waited to the night before her dinner to ask her where she wanted to eat. “Let’s go to Chan Dara Thai on Pico Boulevard,” she said. Of course it’s expensive and yuppish but the food is good. During the conversation, she caveats the choice with: “well, it’s noisy there but the food is excellent.” I concur with her restaurant pick and say, “It’s your birthday and I’m looking forward to celebrating it with you.”

Now, last year…her oldest brother and her dear sister-in-law, had a multiple senior moment, and forgot my mom’s birthday! She was mad. They never called or sent a card and two weeks later, their coupled brain freeze thawed and a call was made with their regrets. This year, she wanted to see if they forgot again. But being the good son I am, son number two, that is, and being organized and efficient, I emailed my uncle and aunt and invited them to the dinner.
I could have been more efficient this year and invited them sooner rather on the day of my mom’s birthday but I didn’t. As with their past and present thoughtlessness and inconvenience way of communicating with me, I decided this year, to do the same with them. I waited the day of my mom’s birthday and invited them. I didn't have to deal with the muliple phone calls and my uncle's terrible inflexibility and attitude. It’s nice that I invited them and they are part of the family but I didn’t want to be considerate this year and give them a week’s notice like I do with most of my family invites; the way most thoughtful people do when we all have busy lives and schedules and hobbies.

Later that morning, I confirmed with my mom her restaurant choice and the time. Although she choose Chan Dara the night before, she changed her mind! She said it was “too noisy” and thought that Lares Mexican restaurant would be better. If you’ve ever been to Lares, it’s just as noisy as Chan Dara. Anyway, being son number two, and being her birthday, I expected her indecisive so had no problem. I asked if her brother had called to wish her a happy birthday. He did not. I could tell she was mad about that. I had to tell her that I invited them. All of sudden, I was the black sheep of the litter. My status as son number two got dropped to son number, two billion, four hundred thousand! How could I do such a thing! Invite them? “I needed to invite them, he’s your brother,” I said, and being proactive and organized in case a dinner reservation was needed, I added, “I have to know the head-count for dinner!” My mom went off on me how I should not do such a thing. A terrible thing, inviting her brother and sister in law who were on her shit list and now I reminded their forgetful and thoughtless brains to think about her and her birthday! What a fuckin idiot I am! Jesus! How could I be so thoughtful and nice? And, they would now call her to wish her a happy fucking birthday and how could she be mad at them for that?! I really fucked up. Blog readers, you can join in the chorus of “palmer the thoughtful idiot!”

As it turned out, my uncle and cousin were too sick to go but my aunt, being a former ER nurse, was helping them get healthy. I don’t know why my aunt could not attend the dinner but I was glad to just celebrate it with my mom and girl friend at Lares. I bought them margaritas, and we all had a nice meal talking and being a family.

A few days later, I called my mom to follow up to ask how was her 70th birthday weekend was when she reminded me again, in that critical voice of hers, filled with “holier-than-thou” self-righteousness to not being so thoughtful and nice again to my family. I shouldn’t invite my uncle and aunt until they are off her shit list. I can’t wait for my mom’s birthday next year!

Jamba Juice Oatmeal

Dear Jamba Juice,

On Monday I tried your Blueberry & Blackberry Jamba Oatmeal at UCLA’s Jamba Juice store. I wanted to write to you and express how disappointed and angry your company and product made me feel.

First of all, your organic oatmeal price of $2.95 plus tax is too expensive. I can buy oatmeal on campus at a student operated cafeteria (called Northern Lights) for $1.50 and get approximately 8 ounces of oatmeal with fresh halved-walnuts, brown sugar and raisins. Justifying that your Jamba oatmeal is organic does not give you the right to charge more for it and then serve it in a tiny container. WTF? My spoon is twice the size of your container! At any supermarket, I can buy a 2lb container of oatmeal for the same price! If you doubled your portion, I would not complain; right now you’re just ripping people off. You shameful capitalist swine.

Your website erroneously displays the weight of the oatmeal. See www.jambajuice.com/#/smoothies (and select oatmeal) . On the website it lists the serving size of 1 fluid ounce with servings per container of 1. That is wrong. The oatmeal I was served was about three to four ounces. In fact, I am disappointed that I was charged for a “kid sized” portion. I ate your oatmeal in five or six spoon servings! Now, compare my picture with your very full looking advertisement of your new oatmeal. This is false advertising and I’m going to report you to consumer affairs and write about this in my blog. You misleading pricks.

Secondly, I kindly asked two of your UCLA Jamba employees to fill up the cup to the brim. They refused citing your exact preparing specifications. I even showed them your stupid Jamba Oatmeal advertisement above. They gave the usual party line: we are instructed to serve it like this. I can’t believe they cower under your supervisory fear. Look at your advertisement; it’s full of oatmeal. Look at the oatmeal that was served to me; it’s ¾ full. What MBA bastard thought of this marketing campaign? Your price is too high and now your jipping me by not leveling off the oatmeal. You cheap bastards.

I hate company policies and people that train their employees to only give one exact scoop of this or that citing it’s company profit propaganda--all in the favor of counting beans and saving your CEO’s some money.

I omitted the brown sugar from the oatmeal; good thing I did. That blue/blackberry sauce is really really sweet. I could not imagine what it would taste like with the added brown sugar. Your employees were nice enough to put the sugar in a small cup. Did your MBA HR monkeys train them to do that? Maybe that’s why I couldn’t get the banana oatmeal that day. What monkey crap!

Lastly, I urge you to double the size of the oatmeal and to fill it up to the brim. You don’t need to add brown sugar either; it’s too sweet with the blue and blackberry sauce. Did you ever think that some customers want to add milk to your oatmeal too? Come on, you geniuses.

Why are you even trying to “branch” out into the breakfast arena? Your bread and butter are juices. I know the economy sucks but your new oatmeal it’s not even a nice try.

Not a happy camper,

Signed by Palmer