(no subject)
My mom will always start to say shit to me while I'm busy with something else, so I catch the last word or phrase -- generally the item about which she's explaining, it seems -- and respond as any teenager would: "Huh?!" She goes on to repeat said item, such as: "BA-NA-NAS." Then a million thoughts run through my head, trying to figure out what the fuck she's thinking, and exactly what she thinks I'm thinking. I'm not quite sure how my face looks at this point, but I picture it to be blank (and maybe lifeless), looking as if temporarily stunned with near-fatal dose of stupidity. George has verified: his mother does the same. When we grunt, "HUH?!," they ought to know to repeat in a summary, but instead they give us a guessing game. "Oooh, let me guess! You want me to pick up bananas on my way home from work? No, no, don't tell me! I know... too much potassium has just been shown to lead chronic constipation? Is that it?"
Watching the relationships between guys and girls has seemed more and more interesting to me. Maybe because I'm now watching my parents after having been together for over 25 years, and meet many divorcees, as well as being in constant touch with the blooming relationships, still in their awkward stages of puberty. My dad's new project is to expand his garage by another six- to eight-feet. In a slightly shifty-eyed, serious manner, as if he's timidly testing the waters, he jokes that he might be moving his own bed in there soon. He generally sleeps out in the living room, because he gets up, or snores, or any other thing. My mom sleeps so fucking lightly. She knows if you opened the fucking refrigerator, even when you're in ultra-stealth mode. I dont even understand it. One of those amazing parental super-powers. This gene, irritating to both its possessor and those who most deal with its possessor, was passed onto me. Oh Nikki and St. John's -- what will you have of me?
Watching the relationships between guys and girls has seemed more and more interesting to me. Maybe because I'm now watching my parents after having been together for over 25 years, and meet many divorcees, as well as being in constant touch with the blooming relationships, still in their awkward stages of puberty. My dad's new project is to expand his garage by another six- to eight-feet. In a slightly shifty-eyed, serious manner, as if he's timidly testing the waters, he jokes that he might be moving his own bed in there soon. He generally sleeps out in the living room, because he gets up, or snores, or any other thing. My mom sleeps so fucking lightly. She knows if you opened the fucking refrigerator, even when you're in ultra-stealth mode. I dont even understand it. One of those amazing parental super-powers. This gene, irritating to both its possessor and those who most deal with its possessor, was passed onto me. Oh Nikki and St. John's -- what will you have of me?