Monday, Mar. 24, 2003 - 1:39 p.m.
The weekend was just as eventful as any trip to the homeland. Dad bought a new S.U.V. last week, so Friday night was spent with him talking "guy stuff" while poking under the hood for a few hours. It's quite funny when I'm under the hood of a car, because I suddenly turn into some kind of uber-manly automotive expert, spouting off terms like "four liter V-6," "dual overhead cam," and "shift-on-the-fly four wheel drive." I am so good at sounding like I know what I'm talking about when the reality is that I haven't a clue. I have a feeling Dad is pretty much the same way, as whenever I have a problem with the car, his response is always "It's supposed to do that."
Me: "Dad, my wheel fell off and is rolling down the street."
Dad: "I know, it's supposed to do that. That car is equipped with quick-release wheels for easy cleaning."
So, we spent our time listening to Skynyrd, grabbing our crotches and spitting, then Mom and I went out for ice cream and clothes shopping. It is always a delicate balance when it comes to family interactions.
The bulk of Saturday was spent in the driveway taking in the sun and warm breeze while washing and waxing my car. After five hours, my three-step waxing regime was complete. G-fresh now shines like a new copper penny. If you painted that copper penny black and waxed it. I'm sure you get the idea.
After a wonderful dinner at the Schnitzel Barn served by a surly, genuine German waitress, the 'rents and I stopped off at one of the liquor stores on the way home. Four bottles of wine were purchased and within ten minutes of arriving home, mom had already polished off the better part of one of them. I took the car out for a drive in the country for about an hour, and when I returned, Mom had finished that bottle and started on a bottle of Riesling (which I had picked out for my own enjoyment, but whatever). She offered me a glass, and I had two by the time she had downed most of that bottle as well.
Dad gave up around ten at night and left me to deal with my now thoroughly drunk mother. At about ten thirty, she proclaimed quite excitedly that she needed six hard-shell tacos from Taco Bell. Being the wonderful son that I am, I went out and bought my drunken mother her precious tacos. I think it's just payback for getting sloshed on margaritas the last time I was home.
So, that's the story of my family visit in a nutshell. Lavish spending, anal retentive cleaning, and family drunkedness. They're gonna make a sitcom about us someday.
