Don't answer your phone

My aunt Connie is that aunt. The one who drinks too much at a wedding and kisses helpless groomsmen. Only in Connie's case, she's also barefoot. Smoking. And possibly talking about Jesus.

So it wasn't that surprising today when my mom warned me over the phone today not to answer any calls from Connie.

"Honey, I need to warn you about something. Connie is crazy right now. And trying to call you. I recommend letting it go to voice mail, ok Honey?"

Usually when Connie calls, it's to check up on a gift she's gotten for me. See, Connie has this funny habit of raiding the nearest Goodwill for clothes to give to her family members. (Keep in mind this is the same woman who, in a drastically illegal and ballsy maneuver, once took out a credit card from one of those mail-in offers under somebody else's name and went shopping with it. As in, maxed-it-out went shopping with it). Now, are we ever low on clothes? Given the Moseleys' collective love for shopping, I'd say that's a safe "no." Nevertheless, Connie is one of those people who loves to take care of things, and buying my family used clothes is her slightly off, but completely heartfelt, way of saying: "I care."

Well, the caring has got to stop.

Connie has been buying me punk rocker clothes lately. Spikes. Black boots. Torn things. From Goodwill. Which, is safe to say, may actually be clothing that once belonged to an aging punk who decided about 5 years ago, "you know what - that ship has sailed. Now somebody get me a vanilla double latte already."

Why? Well, Ross gave me a bass for my birthday. A bass! How cool is that! I know one song: "In Bloom" by Nirvana, and while I don't really hold a candle yet to Krist Novoselic, or your average 3rd grader, I'm confident my riff is only going to continually excel in badassness. You laugh now, but will you be laughing when I'm shredding it?

Also, you know what else is going to make me excel in badassness? My punk clothes. Mom told Connie about the bass, and now Connie wants to make sure I'm stage-ready. How does one properly prepare for a bass show, attire-wise, you ask? I could hardly tell you myself, but I have a feeling the answer will come in a box on my front porch tomorrow labeled, "TOLLY'S CLOTHES FOR BASS GUITAR. LOVE YOUR AUNT CONNIE."