Lana is a freelance writer, blogger, and editor who helps women to regain their power after experiencing toxic relationships. In fairy tales, a grandmother is a warm and fuzzy creature that acts as a mentor to the young protagonist. She is a silver-haired benefactress full of wisdom and kindness think: fairy godmother.
My mom is a grandma on steroids, blinded by adoration, paranoia, and utter subjectivity when it comes to the objects of her perfection — oops, I meant, affection. She is wild about her grandchildren. So what exactly is the problem?
This movie straight sucked… now go and see it! Considering all the critics bashing it after it came out, its no wonder that the films production company decided against sending it to reviewers before it was released. The film carries nothing more than a sloppy pile of jokes, drug references, and some nudity.
For those who think reviewing films is easy and fun, I offer Grandma's Boy as my rebuttal. Legal theft. This is one of those movies where you stay rooted in your seat just to see how bad it can really get.
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She babysat this past Saturday for exactly 6 hours before calling me with my baby wailing in the background telling me she had colic and diarrhea neither of which are true. My mother in law is amazing and wound keep her forever if I let her. She even wanted me to help pay for my own baby shower.
In this column, three proud grandmothers share their unique stories and eloquently describe the transforming experience of becoming a grandmother and the joy associated with witnessing their daughters giving birth. Who knew? Well, God certainly knew that I had been told about it often enough. Over the years, I had even been shown a plethora of photographs.
The children are sending out pictures of their penises over the computer. Did you know this? Enterprising youth!
After watching how my family treated my lesbian mom, I assumed it would all repeat when I came out. When a ghost caught up with Pac-Man, my cousins screamed, but I was more invested in the yelling echoing from the floor above us. I quietly crept over to the basement staircase, trying my best to hear what was happening in the kitchen. When my mom started crying, I found myself wondering why I always found myself watching relationships crumble from the vantage point of a staircase.