My Crazy Folks

After going home this weekend, something has become abundantly clear- my parents are totally bizarre. Maybe its because they are getting older or maybe its because Im getting older and more perceptive, but I've realized how many wierd quirks they have. Here's a few things that came up this weekend:

Some people drunk-dial. My dad drunk-shows the fuck up at your house. After dinner with my grandmother on Friday night, my dad decides he wants to stop by my Aunt Donna's house. He actually made me call her and tel her- not ask her, but tell her- that we were coming over. He pulled over at Beer-To-Go and picked up a six pack to bring with him. Coincidentally, I made the unfortunate decision of drinking my uncle John's homemade wine- or monshine as we like to call it. Its pretty much pure gasoline, and I spent all Saturday sleeping on our back couch, close to throwing up with every movement.

When I was younger, my Mom was far from the over-protective mother. "Get it yourself" and "Well, what do you want me to do about it" were lines I often heard. Now, though, she is entirely consumed with my well-being. Before I left to come back here, she made sure I had on gloves, a scarf, and a hat because she was "concerned about the cold". This from the woman who used to let me swim in the ocean in January.

During my state of hung-overness on Saturday, I asked my dad to bring back some icecream from the store, the one thing thst always makes me feel better. However, when he came home, he was icecream-less. I was baffled, upset, still violently ill, and in need of an explination. My dad claimed that he couldn't get the icecream because he is trying to lose weight and he knows he would just end up eating it. Yet when I opened the cabinets, there were two boxes of girl scout cookies. I don't know what diet he's on, but I should join it!

We finally sold our house, and my parents found a nice little place in Laverock to rent while the new house is being built. Its a cute house, but significantly smaller than our current home, so a lot of our furniture won't be coming with us. Furthermore, my mom, being the trendy interior design know-it-all, is insisting on a "minimalist" look for the house. Apparently this means we can't keep our china cabinet in the dining room and, by extension, all our plates and bowls. Instead, they will be kept in the basement, and my poor 60 year old father will have to walk down there every night in order to set the table. Similarly, when we were in the process of selling the house, my mom told me I had to keep my clothes in our shed whenever I came home so my room wouldnt be cluttered during open houses. I wanted to be helpful, but I drew the line at getting dressed between a weedwacker and my old bicycle.

For my birthday, my Aunt Nell sent me an email, wishing me a good day. She also told me a little story about the day I was born. As she explained, my father was at their house having a beer after his basketball game. My mom called to inform him she was in labor and told him to hurry home. He said he'd be there as soon as possible- but first he had to stop at Lee's for a hoagie. When I asked him about it this weekend, he rdefended himself by explaining "Well, I got one for Mom too". So for now on we won't be celebrating my birthday- we'll be celebrating the anniversary of my dad eating a hoagie.


So, yeah, my parents are total wierdos, but I think its made me a better person. No matter how screwed up things get in my life or how crazy I become, I'll always know I'm not as bad as them.