Hello all,
On a very sad note:
A friend of the family has passed away. I went to school with his son and his wife is one of my mom's best friends; it happened over night and it was very unexpected. My thoughts go out to his entire family.
On a hilarious note:
During the day Dad and I received phone calls about our friend's passing. With each call we learned a little more of what actually happened, but it wasn't until my uncle called when we got the final word. My dad had just stepped into the shower, but I thought he would want to know the news as soon as possible so I yelled through the door who had called and what he said. Unexpectedly to me, Dad opened the door and had me recite what I had said again in greater detail while he stood there naked.
Now, let me state there is nothing funny about the passing of this person in any way, shape, or form, but this time will always be remembered to me with the shape and form of my dad's freshly showered pink body emblazoned in the forefront of my mind.
There is just no preparing for that. When did it become OK to talk to your family members naked? NEVER! I don't even walk around in tank tops, that's how uncomfortable I feel with family on family nudity. I don't care if you do own the house, or you want to get a better listen to what I am saying, put on some G.D. clothes. Yeesh!, Yikes!, and Yeow! Get outta my head!
On a personal note:
I think I may be growing crazy eyebrows. Not on purpose, of course! But everyday I look at my eyebrows and they are getting longer and far too wild.
When I was at Butler, the teacher who played Drossylmeyer every year in The Nutcracker gave me his make up case when I had to play the dog in Cinderella. He was retiring and had no use for it. It was very thoughtful and in the bottom of the case he had also bestowed upon me his stage eye brows; two strips of bushy, inch long, white hair that he would affix to his forehead to look old and crazy (like he needed much help).
Now every time I see my blondish-ed eyebrows in the mirror I think that I will end up some old community fop who is cast in every show because he is needlessly dramatic and already had his own pair of crazy stage eye brows.........but they're real!!!!
I know everybody has already seen this, but I was just so moved and it meant so much to me to see someone say this so honestly and clearly. And I want him to be my husband, but that's a whole 'nother post. Everyone should go and see Milk, if you know a gay, are a gay, interested in learning more about the gays and how we're not going to take over the world in an evil empire and redecorate you living room, go see Milk. It's amazing. And here is Sean Penn, who did an amazing job in Milk as well.
Go see it in the theaters if you can, but it also comes out on DVD on March 10th
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Happy Birthday Graham!
Hello all,
Today is Graham's birthday he is 3...... or 21 depending on how you look at it. He is my special little guy and I love him very much. I don't know what I'd do with out him. Happy Birthday!
That's it........nothing funny. Yes I wrote a blog about my dog's birthday. Does that make me crazy/eccentric? Maybe. Do I care? No. I love my dog and it's his birthday. If you have a problem with that............. you must not have a dog.
Today is Graham's birthday he is 3...... or 21 depending on how you look at it. He is my special little guy and I love him very much. I don't know what I'd do with out him. Happy Birthday!
That's it........nothing funny. Yes I wrote a blog about my dog's birthday. Does that make me crazy/eccentric? Maybe. Do I care? No. I love my dog and it's his birthday. If you have a problem with that............. you must not have a dog.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Final Words
Hello all,
I had a moment of weakness the other day and I called Fuckhead. Right as I did it I regretted it. I’ve had a crappy couple of days and I thought one of two things could happen.
1. His “oh so depressing” life wouldn’t seem so bad and we’d get beck together.
2. He would come to comfort me and we’d get back together.
What am I on? Geeeez.
I have a friend whose theory for me going back to him is all about closure. I’ve come to believe that this is true on many levels, but giving me an excuse to be irrationally emotional and have crazy mood swings is dangerous territory. I think I’d have it all down if I could figure out my last words.
I tried to be reasonable:
“Fuckhead, it’s not going to work because of who you are now, and who I am now. We just need to end this and move on. Your feelings for me are just memories and if you really loved me you’d find a way for us to be together.”
Reasonable, no? This train of thought works for me cause I get to sound like an adult and even though I got screwed over harder than I care to retell, I get to sound like I broke things off yet he is still responsible for the cause.
I’ve also tried not so reasonable:
“Jesus Christ!!!! Why do you keep on doing this to me?!?!? You can’t keep on saying that you love me and not do anything about it!!!!!! That’s not “love”!!! You ruined my life, you son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m never talking to you again!!!! Goodbye!!!!”
Following phone message:
“Why didn’t you call me back?!??!?! What the hell is your problem?!?!? You better call me back or……..or…….you better call me back!!!!!”
Following phone message:
“God you make me so mad!!!! Who do you think you are acting like your life has no consequences!?!?!?...................Ok, I’m sorry I just want to talk. Please call me. Bye.”
Seriously these manic rants have actually come out of my mouth. What am I on?!?!? He has a way of saying absolutely nothing and I read everything into it, like every time we have to end a phone call he says that we’re going to work on getting back together and he’ll call me. Now many of you will think that you wait a few hours and he will call you back and you will begin to work on your relationship. No, no. What he really means is I’ll never call you, everything is your fault, go crazy and eventually reach out to me because I am a douche bag.
If someone could have decoded this for me I could have saved a lot of time and gotten off a list for a sawed-off twelve gage and a bus ticket to NYC.
He is sending me my remaining DVDs and some dance clothes and since he took everything that was ours, I’m not sending him any of his scraps that I have. I am at a loss at what to do with the ring we share together. It’s not a wedding ring but a ring that he bought me that matches one of his that he wears everyday. I stopped wearing it when I got home, and I’ve tried to hide it from myself, but I still know where it is.
I thought that I would throw it into a creek by my house, but maybe that was to Titanic. My friend told me to sell it, but it’s a pinky ring-and how awkward is that to advertise. Recently I’ve thought of mailing it to him once I get my things, but would I need to send a note with it and what would I write and would I want a response and would I ever get one and clearly that will lead to more headaches for me and all who read my blog.
I had a moment of weakness the other day and I called Fuckhead. Right as I did it I regretted it. I’ve had a crappy couple of days and I thought one of two things could happen.
1. His “oh so depressing” life wouldn’t seem so bad and we’d get beck together.
2. He would come to comfort me and we’d get back together.
What am I on? Geeeez.
I have a friend whose theory for me going back to him is all about closure. I’ve come to believe that this is true on many levels, but giving me an excuse to be irrationally emotional and have crazy mood swings is dangerous territory. I think I’d have it all down if I could figure out my last words.
I tried to be reasonable:
“Fuckhead, it’s not going to work because of who you are now, and who I am now. We just need to end this and move on. Your feelings for me are just memories and if you really loved me you’d find a way for us to be together.”
Reasonable, no? This train of thought works for me cause I get to sound like an adult and even though I got screwed over harder than I care to retell, I get to sound like I broke things off yet he is still responsible for the cause.
I’ve also tried not so reasonable:
“Jesus Christ!!!! Why do you keep on doing this to me?!?!? You can’t keep on saying that you love me and not do anything about it!!!!!! That’s not “love”!!! You ruined my life, you son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m never talking to you again!!!! Goodbye!!!!”
Following phone message:
“Why didn’t you call me back?!??!?! What the hell is your problem?!?!? You better call me back or……..or…….you better call me back!!!!!”
Following phone message:
“God you make me so mad!!!! Who do you think you are acting like your life has no consequences!?!?!?...................Ok, I’m sorry I just want to talk. Please call me. Bye.”
Seriously these manic rants have actually come out of my mouth. What am I on?!?!? He has a way of saying absolutely nothing and I read everything into it, like every time we have to end a phone call he says that we’re going to work on getting back together and he’ll call me. Now many of you will think that you wait a few hours and he will call you back and you will begin to work on your relationship. No, no. What he really means is I’ll never call you, everything is your fault, go crazy and eventually reach out to me because I am a douche bag.
If someone could have decoded this for me I could have saved a lot of time and gotten off a list for a sawed-off twelve gage and a bus ticket to NYC.
He is sending me my remaining DVDs and some dance clothes and since he took everything that was ours, I’m not sending him any of his scraps that I have. I am at a loss at what to do with the ring we share together. It’s not a wedding ring but a ring that he bought me that matches one of his that he wears everyday. I stopped wearing it when I got home, and I’ve tried to hide it from myself, but I still know where it is.
I thought that I would throw it into a creek by my house, but maybe that was to Titanic. My friend told me to sell it, but it’s a pinky ring-and how awkward is that to advertise. Recently I’ve thought of mailing it to him once I get my things, but would I need to send a note with it and what would I write and would I want a response and would I ever get one and clearly that will lead to more headaches for me and all who read my blog.
My Funny Valentine
Hello all,
Well it finally happened. So many days I have dreamt of a handsome man coming through my grocery lane, falling madly in love with me (in 10 items or less) and asking me out on a date. And it happened.
I had seen my admirer before, with a friend, but neither of them paid too much attention to me. But today was different. After a small purchase, I thought our encounter was over, but a few minutes after that I was drawn out of my daily grind with a tap on my shoulder. I was surprised by a smile, a phone number, and an invitation for a date on Valentine’s evening. It was all so romantic, but there was one little problem. My invitation was from a confused Eastern European girl name Carolina.
God is so cruel that way. Now in all honesty, she seems like a perfectly nice girl with an incredibly thick, guttural accent, but she has a few things I’m extremely not interested in and one thing I’d definitely miss. Seriously, I had always imagined being picked up at my store, but later on in the day when a woman bought an over sized mirror I realized why it would never happen from a gay man; I wear a dumpy, baggy red shirt, the lighting is awful, and no one thinks an impulse purchase will lead to a date. “Snickers, Trident, boyfriend.” Doesn’t happen.
I was very flattered to get hit on regardless, but how dense was this girl? Even as a child I didn’t pass for straight- I’ve seen the footage. Even in college I was cast as the fop in ballets. She had clearly never played the game Gay or European, where you decide if an androgynous, well-dressed man is gay or European. But maybe because she was European, that I was dressed poorly, and that I only have a few lines that I say to customers (ex. “Hello, your total is, have a good day”) I pass for straight. I’ll add that to my resume-"Passes for European Straight”. Look out Light in the Piazza and…………and………..any other European musical where there are straight men, HERE I COME!!!!
Well it finally happened. So many days I have dreamt of a handsome man coming through my grocery lane, falling madly in love with me (in 10 items or less) and asking me out on a date. And it happened.
I had seen my admirer before, with a friend, but neither of them paid too much attention to me. But today was different. After a small purchase, I thought our encounter was over, but a few minutes after that I was drawn out of my daily grind with a tap on my shoulder. I was surprised by a smile, a phone number, and an invitation for a date on Valentine’s evening. It was all so romantic, but there was one little problem. My invitation was from a confused Eastern European girl name Carolina.
God is so cruel that way. Now in all honesty, she seems like a perfectly nice girl with an incredibly thick, guttural accent, but she has a few things I’m extremely not interested in and one thing I’d definitely miss. Seriously, I had always imagined being picked up at my store, but later on in the day when a woman bought an over sized mirror I realized why it would never happen from a gay man; I wear a dumpy, baggy red shirt, the lighting is awful, and no one thinks an impulse purchase will lead to a date. “Snickers, Trident, boyfriend.” Doesn’t happen.
I was very flattered to get hit on regardless, but how dense was this girl? Even as a child I didn’t pass for straight- I’ve seen the footage. Even in college I was cast as the fop in ballets. She had clearly never played the game Gay or European, where you decide if an androgynous, well-dressed man is gay or European. But maybe because she was European, that I was dressed poorly, and that I only have a few lines that I say to customers (ex. “Hello, your total is, have a good day”) I pass for straight. I’ll add that to my resume-"Passes for European Straight”. Look out Light in the Piazza and…………and………..any other European musical where there are straight men, HERE I COME!!!!
Monday, February 9, 2009
A B C Spells I Am Hot!
Hello all,
Today is the day! I'm so excited! It's like I'm finally getting a niece/nephew that I can really love! Today we are getting DTV. I could just cry. Bravo, TLC, MTV, VH1......sniff, sniff....my cup runneth over. My dad could not figure out how to make the digital converter box work through the VCR so instead he scrapped the whole idea and decided to get DTV. Usually I would discourage the drastic act of him spending money when we already bought the equipment to make it work, but not today. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I don't think I'll sleep for weeks.
And in the wake of that tremendous news, I have something to confess. I must ask that you refrain from judging me until I reach the end of the story. I answered a craigslist ad.........NO JUDGEMENT!!! It was not a hook up ad. It was a nice ad with only face pictures and a nicely constructed, genuine paragraph. Well, we chatted a bit via email and decided to meet at a bar in Indy. I'm calling this guy Mr. A.
I always like to be early, I feel like it gives me the upper hand. So I did a lap of the bar and waited for Mr. A. Oh, and I will preface this whole story by saying, that on the whole, I don't get hit on too often, except by 60 year olds with an Opie fetish and socially inept 30 year olds who own cats-I am very allergic.
So, I was waiting for Mr. A and I was approached by a tall, dark, and handsome man in a corduroy blazer and glasses, Mr. C.
Mr. C: "Uh, hi! Are you alone here."
Me: "Hi, for a little while."
Mr. C: "Would you like to come over here to the bar and chat? Can I buy you a drink?"
It was like I was on some type of dating show. I mean, I'm no gargoyle, but it was SO nice. I found out that Mr. C is from Chicago, hence the C, and was in town for a convention for the Illinois board of education. Truth be told I like a learned man, so I was already hooked. He was very complimentary and he and his friends decided right in front of me that I had to be at most 19. I like to stay out of the sun, so I get that more often than you would guess, after about 20 min. or so he and his friends were moving on to the next bar and asked me if I would like to join him. I told him that I was meeting someone so I declined the offer,we traded numbers, and I thanked him for the drink.
And since I had such great luck leaning against a pillar, I went back to that spot, location, location, location. After just a few minutes, I was approached by a blonde man in a baseball cap and after chatting for just a few minutes I learned he was from Boston- Mr. B.
Mr. B: "Uh, hi. Are you here alone?"
Me: "Hi, for a little while."
Mr. B: "Do you want to come over here and chat? Can I buy you a drink?"
I informed Mr. B that I was meeting someone who would be there at any time, but he was not phased. Mr. B had just moved from Boston to find a new place to live and to escape the wreckage of a past relationship. Normally I would have avoided this guy after saying this, but he was cute enough to keep the ball rolling. I told him of my past relationship and we bonded over that. He was shocked to hear that mine was for 5 1/2 years, because again he thought I couldn't be more than 19 years old. He then told me that his past relationship lasted for 10 years!!
Just as I was giving him my number Mr. A finally showed up. Awkward. But I think I handled it as well as could be expected; thanking Mr. B for his time and moving to the main event.
Though I had seen pictures of him online, Mr. A was shockingly tall and lanky, both attributes I am perfectly fine with. But if I looked 19 to the rest of the bar he had to have been 17, tops. He informed me that he was 27, graduated from a local university and lives with his aunt who is going through a divorce. I thought that was a little odd but his next question would leave me captivated for the next few hours.
Mr. A: "Do you have a cat? I'm so allergic."
Out of nowhere, "Do you have a cat?". I have often wanted to ask that because I can't count the number of times I have gone home with a guy and woken asphyxiated by my own mucus and seen a cat at the foot of the bed in the morning. Seeing as how the dating pool is more treacherous than I can explain, I took this commonality as a good omen. He told me that he didn't really drink too much and only liked fuzzy navels, with not too much alcohol, and commented on how straight I seemed with my beer.
That is the first time anyone has ever called me straight looking in my entire life. ENTIRE LIFE.
We then proceeded to chat about how normal we both seemed for having meet online and our interests. He made it a point to inform me that he is one of the biggest fans of Justin Guarini, the runner up in the first season to American Idol, in the country. Strike one.
As the night progressed I tried to interest him in dancing and other forms of contact, but he did not respond. He told me how cute he thought I was many times but didn't advance at all. Mixed signals, party of one, mixed signals, party of one.He was more of an awkward 17 year old that I could have imagined. Aren't we gay men? Aren't we all nice, animated guys who are all whores on some level? He affectionately pecked me on the cheek a few times and then out of nowhere told me that he wasn't going to make out with me. Strike two.
As the bar was at last call, we looked at eachother puzzled on how to end the evening. He asked where I was parked and if he could drive me to my car. He had just gotten the new Madonna live tour CD and wanted to listen to it with me while we trade massages at 3 AM on a Saturday night. Strikes three, four, and five. OUT!
He was very nice but I should have known there was something up with him when he told me that his longest relationship was for a month in college. As a 27 year old, if that's your longest relationship you're probably damaged goods. I haven't heard from him, and that's ok, but I have been texting and chatting to Mr. C, and on that note I would like to issue a preventative apology.
I would like to apologize to one of my brothers, with whom shares a name with Mr. C. I may have gotten your numbers mixed up in my phone and if you have received any texts or pictures via phone that may have seemed more than brotherly.....or down right slutty, please disregard.
Today is the day! I'm so excited! It's like I'm finally getting a niece/nephew that I can really love! Today we are getting DTV. I could just cry. Bravo, TLC, MTV, VH1......sniff, sniff....my cup runneth over. My dad could not figure out how to make the digital converter box work through the VCR so instead he scrapped the whole idea and decided to get DTV. Usually I would discourage the drastic act of him spending money when we already bought the equipment to make it work, but not today. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I don't think I'll sleep for weeks.
And in the wake of that tremendous news, I have something to confess. I must ask that you refrain from judging me until I reach the end of the story. I answered a craigslist ad.........NO JUDGEMENT!!! It was not a hook up ad. It was a nice ad with only face pictures and a nicely constructed, genuine paragraph. Well, we chatted a bit via email and decided to meet at a bar in Indy. I'm calling this guy Mr. A.
I always like to be early, I feel like it gives me the upper hand. So I did a lap of the bar and waited for Mr. A. Oh, and I will preface this whole story by saying, that on the whole, I don't get hit on too often, except by 60 year olds with an Opie fetish and socially inept 30 year olds who own cats-I am very allergic.
So, I was waiting for Mr. A and I was approached by a tall, dark, and handsome man in a corduroy blazer and glasses, Mr. C.
Mr. C: "Uh, hi! Are you alone here."
Me: "Hi, for a little while."
Mr. C: "Would you like to come over here to the bar and chat? Can I buy you a drink?"
It was like I was on some type of dating show. I mean, I'm no gargoyle, but it was SO nice. I found out that Mr. C is from Chicago, hence the C, and was in town for a convention for the Illinois board of education. Truth be told I like a learned man, so I was already hooked. He was very complimentary and he and his friends decided right in front of me that I had to be at most 19. I like to stay out of the sun, so I get that more often than you would guess, after about 20 min. or so he and his friends were moving on to the next bar and asked me if I would like to join him. I told him that I was meeting someone so I declined the offer,we traded numbers, and I thanked him for the drink.
And since I had such great luck leaning against a pillar, I went back to that spot, location, location, location. After just a few minutes, I was approached by a blonde man in a baseball cap and after chatting for just a few minutes I learned he was from Boston- Mr. B.
Mr. B: "Uh, hi. Are you here alone?"
Me: "Hi, for a little while."
Mr. B: "Do you want to come over here and chat? Can I buy you a drink?"
I informed Mr. B that I was meeting someone who would be there at any time, but he was not phased. Mr. B had just moved from Boston to find a new place to live and to escape the wreckage of a past relationship. Normally I would have avoided this guy after saying this, but he was cute enough to keep the ball rolling. I told him of my past relationship and we bonded over that. He was shocked to hear that mine was for 5 1/2 years, because again he thought I couldn't be more than 19 years old. He then told me that his past relationship lasted for 10 years!!
Just as I was giving him my number Mr. A finally showed up. Awkward. But I think I handled it as well as could be expected; thanking Mr. B for his time and moving to the main event.
Though I had seen pictures of him online, Mr. A was shockingly tall and lanky, both attributes I am perfectly fine with. But if I looked 19 to the rest of the bar he had to have been 17, tops. He informed me that he was 27, graduated from a local university and lives with his aunt who is going through a divorce. I thought that was a little odd but his next question would leave me captivated for the next few hours.
Mr. A: "Do you have a cat? I'm so allergic."
Out of nowhere, "Do you have a cat?". I have often wanted to ask that because I can't count the number of times I have gone home with a guy and woken asphyxiated by my own mucus and seen a cat at the foot of the bed in the morning. Seeing as how the dating pool is more treacherous than I can explain, I took this commonality as a good omen. He told me that he didn't really drink too much and only liked fuzzy navels, with not too much alcohol, and commented on how straight I seemed with my beer.
That is the first time anyone has ever called me straight looking in my entire life. ENTIRE LIFE.
We then proceeded to chat about how normal we both seemed for having meet online and our interests. He made it a point to inform me that he is one of the biggest fans of Justin Guarini, the runner up in the first season to American Idol, in the country. Strike one.
As the night progressed I tried to interest him in dancing and other forms of contact, but he did not respond. He told me how cute he thought I was many times but didn't advance at all. Mixed signals, party of one, mixed signals, party of one.He was more of an awkward 17 year old that I could have imagined. Aren't we gay men? Aren't we all nice, animated guys who are all whores on some level? He affectionately pecked me on the cheek a few times and then out of nowhere told me that he wasn't going to make out with me. Strike two.
As the bar was at last call, we looked at eachother puzzled on how to end the evening. He asked where I was parked and if he could drive me to my car. He had just gotten the new Madonna live tour CD and wanted to listen to it with me while we trade massages at 3 AM on a Saturday night. Strikes three, four, and five. OUT!
He was very nice but I should have known there was something up with him when he told me that his longest relationship was for a month in college. As a 27 year old, if that's your longest relationship you're probably damaged goods. I haven't heard from him, and that's ok, but I have been texting and chatting to Mr. C, and on that note I would like to issue a preventative apology.
I would like to apologize to one of my brothers, with whom shares a name with Mr. C. I may have gotten your numbers mixed up in my phone and if you have received any texts or pictures via phone that may have seemed more than brotherly.....or down right slutty, please disregard.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Cabin Fever
Hello all,
Last night is snowed 14 in. around my house. Mom got off school for the day, I was off work, and Dad’s wallet was lost. It has been a long day being trapped in the house, much like The Shinning without any of the entertaining dead people or waves of blood. I assume that if we were strangers we would have systematically killed each other by now and worn the previous victim’s scalp as a headdress, but seeing as how we are in a recession and not in the way of paying for a funeral, we have avoided this costly expenditure.
“YES MOTHER, I know how to do my laundry”
“Yes, I have seen that it has snowed and it IS amazing.”
“No, I do not commonly watch this soap opera, and seeing as how you have no consideration for me, please watch whatever the hell you want.”
“YOU KNOW WHAT?!? I don’t have a problem with you, but the problem I have with you IS is that you are not listening to me!”
Now I must confess that I did not say all of these things, but I did say some of them. Can you guess which ones I did say? You’ll be surprised.
My grandparents are like birds and retreat to Florida resulting in my dad collecting all of their movies for the entire winter. He get’s The King and I, yay, Fiddler on the Roof, yay, and Centennial, a miniseries about 100 years in American history told through the acting of a handful of C-list actors from the eighties, boo. My mom tells me that I would like it if I just sat down and watched it, but somehow a movie where a sandy-haired Mark Harmon and Pocahontas save the West from the imperialistic U.S. Navy does not interest me.
Yesterday I decided that I was sick of eating the same old 5 meals my mom makes and that I would delve into the culinary world and make my parents dinner. I went to the market and bought the ingredients to make fresh green beans, mashed potatoes with sweet and Yukon potatoes-from scratch, and stuffed bell peppers. All things I can make from memory, thank you very much.
I cooked for 3 hours. 3!, with no help from anyone. I served the plates and when Mom came into the kitchen and picked up one of the beans and ate it she rolled her eyes at me.
Me: “what.”
Mom: “Nothing. No, nothing.”
“I like them crunchy, that’s how I like them.”
“No, no, I think there fine, but I’m not so sure your father is going to like them.”
Dad looked as though there was an invisible man with a gun to his head throughout the whole meal. “Come on man!!!! Eat the God damn fresh food prepared for you by your most talented son!!!!” I imagine the man would say. Dad would lumber over to the other side of his plate and begrudgingly place a morsel in his mouth.
Half way through the meal Mom said, “……..Now, would it offend you if I get some ketchup for this?”
“I don’t care what you do,” I said.
“Well, there is no need for that!!!” she said as she drowned my balanced and nutritious meal in generic ketchup.
I will not be cooking for them again anytime soon. And just so we’re clear, the food tasted great.
Last night is snowed 14 in. around my house. Mom got off school for the day, I was off work, and Dad’s wallet was lost. It has been a long day being trapped in the house, much like The Shinning without any of the entertaining dead people or waves of blood. I assume that if we were strangers we would have systematically killed each other by now and worn the previous victim’s scalp as a headdress, but seeing as how we are in a recession and not in the way of paying for a funeral, we have avoided this costly expenditure.
“YES MOTHER, I know how to do my laundry”
“Yes, I have seen that it has snowed and it IS amazing.”
“No, I do not commonly watch this soap opera, and seeing as how you have no consideration for me, please watch whatever the hell you want.”
“YOU KNOW WHAT?!? I don’t have a problem with you, but the problem I have with you IS is that you are not listening to me!”
Now I must confess that I did not say all of these things, but I did say some of them. Can you guess which ones I did say? You’ll be surprised.
My grandparents are like birds and retreat to Florida resulting in my dad collecting all of their movies for the entire winter. He get’s The King and I, yay, Fiddler on the Roof, yay, and Centennial, a miniseries about 100 years in American history told through the acting of a handful of C-list actors from the eighties, boo. My mom tells me that I would like it if I just sat down and watched it, but somehow a movie where a sandy-haired Mark Harmon and Pocahontas save the West from the imperialistic U.S. Navy does not interest me.
Yesterday I decided that I was sick of eating the same old 5 meals my mom makes and that I would delve into the culinary world and make my parents dinner. I went to the market and bought the ingredients to make fresh green beans, mashed potatoes with sweet and Yukon potatoes-from scratch, and stuffed bell peppers. All things I can make from memory, thank you very much.
I cooked for 3 hours. 3!, with no help from anyone. I served the plates and when Mom came into the kitchen and picked up one of the beans and ate it she rolled her eyes at me.
Me: “what.”
Mom: “Nothing. No, nothing.”
“I like them crunchy, that’s how I like them.”
“No, no, I think there fine, but I’m not so sure your father is going to like them.”
Dad looked as though there was an invisible man with a gun to his head throughout the whole meal. “Come on man!!!! Eat the God damn fresh food prepared for you by your most talented son!!!!” I imagine the man would say. Dad would lumber over to the other side of his plate and begrudgingly place a morsel in his mouth.
Half way through the meal Mom said, “……..Now, would it offend you if I get some ketchup for this?”
“I don’t care what you do,” I said.
“Well, there is no need for that!!!” she said as she drowned my balanced and nutritious meal in generic ketchup.
I will not be cooking for them again anytime soon. And just so we’re clear, the food tasted great.
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