"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com


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Meet the Parents (Hopefully Minus Cat-Milking Demonstrations)

J’s parents are coming to town this weekend and we’re doing the whole dinner and drinks thing. Although I’ve never actually met J’s parents, I’ve heard a lot about them. J is an only child, and his parents are—according to him—“like his siblings.” His much older siblings, one of whom was a platoon leader in Vietnam. Right. I’m feeling filial already.

In all seriousness, I’m not too nervous about it—I’m sure everything will be fine as soon as the night gets going. But I’m still a little worried about getting myself into one of my patented foot-in-mouth imbroglios. For example, I’m dreading a conversation like the following: [Note: This entirely fictional conversation is intended to be a hyperbolic illustration of my irrational fears. I know that J’s parents (and J for that matter) are really nothing like this]

J: …and that’s why I think the Cuban Missile Crisis was so fascinating.
J’s Dad: (Beaming with fatherly pride) That’s a good point, son.
Me: (Nervous laughter) Yeah, I totally agree. (Pause) Hey J, did you see that kid driving the white Camaro yesterday? What an idiot! Blasting Jason Mraz. Jesus! I mean, who drives Camaros?
J’s Mom: I drive a Camaro.
Me: I know...that’s because only really cool people drive Camaros. Cool people like you and your husband.
J’s Dad: I have my own car.
Me: Of course you do, sir. I didn’t mean to imply…
J: I didn’t spend a year in Vietnam to be accused of sharing a car with my wife.
J's Mom: Maybe we should get going, honey.
J: Come on, guys--
J's Mom: It's ok dear, we'll see you tomorrow. (Whispering to J's Dad on the way out) Not so pretty, is she?

Yikes.

posted by Bekah at 9:32 AM :: |