After the drama-fueled week I’ve had, the Shahs had some sore competition. Sorry, guys, but no one can compare to my 21-year-old neighbor with BPD who called my husband’s boss, and my former boss/personal friend (not to mention, like, 30 other people) to inform them about our marital strife with the likely hope that we would split up so she could get our apartment. Seriously. That bad.
This week, something’s not kosher with Sammy, GiGi scares off a shrink, and MJ confronts her perfectly stereotypical mother. It’s supposed to be over 100 degrees in El Paso today, so let’s pretend this is the river and jump in this cesspool.
Mom: What the hell happened this week?
Me: J and I are fine, now, but mopping up after that bitch is going to be an ordeal of its own.
Mom: Well, I’m happy you two reconciled. He’s a good boy. You two are so good together.
Me: Thanks, mom. Any chance you have some pull with the Big Guy? Can we speed up her karma a bit.
Mom: She wouldn’t see her own fault if it were a freight train and she were tied to the tracks. It would be a waste of His time. But, I’m sure it gave you a greater insight into GiGi’s “personality”.
Me: Oh, yeah. Look at GiGi prancing around the kickboxing gym like a dying salmon. Classic manipulative behavior. She believes showing weakness or portraying herself as the victim is the only way to secure a man, let alone any friend. It’s always got to be everyone else’s fault.
Mom: Oh, really, Sultani- GiGi is a “Good Catch”? You should work as the US Envoy to Iran. I haven’t seen a diplomatic lie told with such unflinching suavité since Clinton was in office. Give him three months, and Ahmadinejad would be handing over all his armament plans, and he’d be sweet talking BiBi into shutting down the Chocolate Factory and signing a peace treaty with Iran.
Me: He’s right- she does act like a little girl who hasn’t gotten her way, because she was never forced to grow out of that state.
Mom: So, MJ’s having a klatch with Reza. Her hair is telling me she’s already drunk.
Me: Yes, her mother is critical, Reza, but so are you.
Mom: “Your mom doesn’t love you.” That’s how we show love! We care enough to micromanage your lives! Every Middle Eastern mother- Jew, Muslim, Christian- is like that! You understand that, right hokis?
Me: Well, that’s up for interpretation. He’s saying Vida never gives MJ any credit for anything good. Even though you were a hard-ass, you were adamant about touting my success, as it was a referendum on your success as a parent. That’s the big difference. I think Vida is fundamentally unhappy with how her life progressed, and she transfers her own self-criticism onto MJ in a pathological way.
Mom: Should I take that as a compliment? Moving on, why do all of these people have to set every possible garment they own on the bed to get dressed for an occasion?
Me: So Sammy and MJ are out on a double blind date. Do you think the producers are trying to force a plot arc? I feel like they’ve been trying to get Sultani with GiGi and Sammy with MJ all season, but have had to change their plans since the four of them all think its a gross idea. You can see it on their faces in those, “So why haven’t we gotten together” moments.
Mom: The girl MJ brought is too pretty for Sammy. Sure, he seems like a nice guy in the confessionals, but he needs to stop dressing like a 24-year-old hipster, he needs to lose 20 pounds, and trim that balding hair of his. Length doesn’t make up for volume.
Me: I think you’re just mad about that picture of him in a keffiyeh.
Mom: These fucking idiots- if he’s advocating Palestinian self-determination, he can wear a keffiyeh, but I doubt that’s the case.
Me: I saw a girl in SF a few years ago (blonde anglo, mind you) wearing a green keffiyeh. I asked her if she was a supporter of Hamas.
Mom: *snork* What did she say?
Me: She had no idea what I was talking about. I had to tell her that the keffiyehs where our family is from are essentially political gang colors. Black is for Fatah, Red is for PFLP, and Green is for Hamas. She was pretty ambivalent about how gauche it is for us.
Mom: Moving on. MJ brings her very pretty friend, Hana for Sammy. And who does Sammy bring for MJ? Her ex Navid! What kind of bullshit is that? I would have killed him.
Me: While I’m sure the producers made that suggestion, let’s imagine for a moment that it’s not staged. How fucked up and passive aggressive is that. Navid is a fucking pig, and I don’t know if Sammy is showing off for Navid, or if he’s really like that and we just haven’t had the chance to see it, but yeah, I’m “Feeling a little friction,” too.
Mom: Look at them rolling around on those over-stuffed couches like pigs in shit.
Me: How much did they all drink before going to the Roosevelt?
Mom: Good for you, MJ. Run! Get the hell out of there!
Me: Who brings someone’s ex to a blind date???
Mom: So now it’s GiGi’s turn. Oh, my- he’s very handsome.
Me: Who goes to a sushi restaurant and doesn’t eat fish? I don’t take vegans to a steakhouse…
Mom: Maybe he suggested the restaurant and made the reservation. But there she goes again- playing helpless this time with chopsticks and noodles.
Me: She wants a large family?
Mom: Big Christmas’? Big Thanksgivings? She does realize she’ll have to live with them every other day of the year for 20 years, right, not just the holidays?
Me: What does she think they are? A play set?
Me & Mom: HE’S A SHRINK!
Mom: She thinks crazy people are “cool? Well, hokis, that’s a good thing for you because you’re right there. Of course she has a serial killer fetish.
Me: “It’s time for the baby factory to open up.” Well, he could have at least given her his card as he ran off. She needs it.
Mom: Asa is with Homa Sarshar, my my. Look at that. Walking on the beach, no less. I can’t believe she’s a fan of your work either, Asa.
Me: I love how they cut to her “painting” on what’s obviously a stencil. I can hear the director- “Here Asa, show us you’re an artist. Ooh, this painting will work.” But it’s a stencil. “Oh, who cares. No one will notice. Cock your head to the side. That’s it.”
Mom: Homa is absolutely right, Asa- stay true to yourself.
Me: So I guess because Sammy was sensible and hardworking and boring for the whole season, they have to manufacture this ridiculous conflict between MJ and Sammy.
Mom: It feels so forced. Like Navid’s couch writhing.
Me: Oh, God. They’re bringing up the ladies night again. I’m so over it. MOVE. ON.
Mom: Reza- don’t start with a sprint when you’re running. Jog into it.
Me: Reza’s worried about his weight, and Sultani is giving him a hard time. I think Reza just needs to embrace his inner bear. Let him grow out his body hair. I’m sure he waxes his chest and back. There’s a niche in the LGBT community for everyone, Sultani.
Mom: Oh, lunch with Vida and MJ.
Me: I would have never thought that Vida was an Apple Martini kind of a lady.
Mom: She needs something to sweeten up her personality.
Me: She just can’t say anything nice, can she?
Mom: Well, giving your mother an ultimatum is a bit much.
Me: But who would want to be in their mother’s company and be honest with the expectation of dismissal and hostility looming like some kind of Sword of Damocles?
Mom: If you want to say something just say it.
Me: Well, you were a lot like Vida when you were alive. I could never please you.
Mom: Well, at least I had a sense of humor and I did champion your successes.
Me: That’s true. So you’re saying I was right in saying I never pleased you?
Mom: Let’s move on-
Me: Asa’s paintings aren’t bad. They aren’t great. I mean, I live in Chicano Artist central, and that washed graffiti on canvas look has been done to death over here. Her photographs are nice. She does have a thing for belly dancers.
Mom: Which is funny, because cabaret-style raqs started in Egypt. We all know how much the Persians and Arabs hate having their cultures confused.
Me: So what do you think mom. Are we watching next season?
Mom: Why the hell not. I might not feel the need to give commentary anymore, and you can write a regular recap, but that’s up to the readers, right?
Me: As the Shahs would say, Mamnoon, Mama joon.
