I was out on Saturday night and got a text from my seven year old.
I never would have thought rape could be funny. I was wrong. Luckily he doesn’t know that word and it was a legit typo. Taquitos can relax!
Speaking of family faux pas, my parents are visiting on Wednesday for a few days. When they planned this trip seventeen years ago, it seemed so far away. Old people like to plan way ahead. Well, suddenly it’s almost here and I have to rush around doing all those little house chores and errands that will help minimize the criticism and “helpful” advice my parents like to give me.
I have prioritized my list by chronological points of contact. Therefore I had to start with my 4-Runner. I will be picking the parents up at the airport which means the first thing they can note is the state of my vehicle. Actually, it will be the second thing because I’m sure the first comment will be about my appearance.
“Oh, you haven’t shaved have you? It sure is gray.”
“You have gained weight!”
“You look tired. Are you tired?”
My responses will be muted, but I will want to say:
“And it will be grayer after five days with you.”
“I binge eat whenever I know you are coming because I’m so fucking excited to see you.”
“Yes because the thought of taking care of four children instead of my normal two is exhausting.”
Yes, I’m being a dick, but that’s okay because I truly love my parents. It’s just fun to complain about them because they, well, drive me crazy.
Speaking of being a dick, that word came up a couple more times in a movie I watched with the boys over the weekend. They have been fascinated with dirty words and are actively cataloguing them and discussing them despite my attempts to be nonchalant and deemphasizing the subject altogether. It didn’t help when they asked me again what a dick is and I reminded them it’s a jerk. And also your pp. They laughed at the pp definition and I had to tell them I don’t want to hear them calling anyone a dick!
So anyway, the next opportunity for my parents to treat me like I’m twelve is with my 4-Runner. The side view mirror is still cracked which bugged the shit out of my dad last year so I was thinking I’d just say, “It was the craziest thing! My side view mirror got smashed again – just like last year!” The vehicle is filthy, so I’m getting it detailed tomorrow. I ‘won’ a free detail at the kids' school fundraiser auction and I’m cashing it in. I have to admit the car smells like ass and wet dog. We don’t have a dog.
I suspect the smell is from Ray. Ray is dead. Ray was somebody’s friend. Ray isn’t in my car, but his memorial is.
This sucker was erected in the courtyard of my block’s common area. Nobody on our block knows Ray. Ray was apparently a friend of the designer or builder or landscaper and they for some reason thought they should put in a headstone as the centerpiece of basically everyone’s front yard. It freaked out the kids and adults – we all wonder if Ray is buried down there somewhere.
I gave it a year and then removed the stone memorial in broad daylight. Now it’s in my truck and I think the wet soil from the bottom is stinking things up more than the collective three asses of my boys and me. I’ll have to hide Ray in my garage so the car guys can do the detail and hopefully get the stink out before my mom suggests a vanilla pine tree dangler.
I hope my parents don’t result in a neighbor erecting a memorial for their friend Brett. Ray may not like company either.
By the way, anybody have a dead friend named Ray they’d like to memorialize? I can help!