I cannot take this literally, but I can say that four fucking days in Southern Indiana does leave me crawling out of my goddamned skin. I cannot leave town fast enough. I'm such an asshole, my plane doesn't leave until five, and AAAARRRRHHHGHGHGH!
I love my mom, I would love it if my sister lived in my same town, but constant, twenty-four seven family time is, I think, unnatural.
We spend a lot of time reliving childhood nightmares that you really just can't write about on your public, Internet forum without creating full-on adult-type nightmares, like hurting your mom's feelings. Jeeze, mom, I'M SORRY!
Some amusing bits:
- Conducting a vewing of Battlestar Galactica DVDs, Dad says, "I wonder how much it would cost to get one of those chips implanted in your head?
- Dad brings his dog to the airport to pick up my sister. (Not as bad as when he took the dog to my cousin's wedding, but, still.) The security guard says, "Is this a service dog?" Dad really hesitates before saying, "no." Then refuses to leave the dog in the car, instead waiting outside for my sister. Later, he declares that he may just train the dog to be a service dog! Then he can take the dog everywhere. My sister's stroke of level-headed brilliance: "You could. But you won't. That would involve discipline, and you're not willing to do that."
- My cousin stole my cell phone last night during an intense drunken catchphrase tournament and did some rampant evil text messaging. (Sorry, Susan.) I woke up this morning feeling more wine-logged than I have in months. Stupid alcoholic tendencies in the family.