Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Inside jokes. But hey, I'm amused.

My father is one of those people who will condemn others for doing something, but then justify doing it himself. My favorite example: driving while talking on a cell phone. He bitches about other drivers who do dumb things because they are on the phone. He loves the bumper sticker “Just hang up and Drive!” But he totally is that guy who is always on the phone while driving 100 miles per hour. Frightening. Yet, he claims that he’s SO experienced at driving, he is able to talk on the phone as well.
Thing is, as anyone who’s ever ridden with him while he chats, he’s neither driving nor conversing very well. It drives my mother up the wall.

So, this last weekend, I was in Chico so my dad could help me with my brakes. After we’d gotten the brakes off, we needed to go buy all the parts. We decided to get lunch while we were at it, so my sister and mother were also in the car. While still parked, my dad pulls his phone out to call some auto parts stores to compare prices. Once he dials, he pulls out a notepad and pen. So, with his left hand, he’s holding the phone to his ear. With his right hand, he’s balancing the notepad and writing. He takes a break from writing to start the car, and put it into gear. My mother asks, “Should I drive so you can talk and write?” He responds by handing her the notepad and pen. Clearly, he’s more than capable of driving, it’s that pesky writing that is throwing a wrench in his gears. He continues driving while talking and barking things at my mother to write down.

Being the snarky butt I am, I turn to my sister and say, “Secretary! Take this down…”

She giggles and replies with, “Here, allow me to read you a passage from this book while I drive.”

We’re both chuckling, and my mom is on the verge of peeing herself from laughing. By this point in the trip, we’re in a left turn lane waiting for a hole in oncoming traffic. My dad, now that he has all this time on his hands (you know, what with the seven oncoming cars) takes the notepad back, and continues to talk and take notes.

I’m now on a roll, so I have to add, “I’d like to read you some of my original poetry while I drive. In fact, I also write the poetry while I drive. I call it Stoplight Poetry, you know, since I write it while at stoplights.”

Maybe this is only funny to me.


Conversation with Kells this weekend:

K: This guy I used to date, who has spent the last few years messing with my head, called. So I went and hung out with him. He read me some of his poetry.
Me: (raises eyebrow)
K: No, it’s really good poetry!
Me: Even so.

I guess the moral of that story is, people reading each other poetry skeezes me out. I should note that just READING poetry is not bad. Just the act of reading it to another person (as though THEIR interpretation and intonation just MAKES the poetry) makes it a creepy and therefore unwelcome experience.

In my family, one of our favorite pastimes is remembering stupid things other family members have done, and mocking them. Usually 12 years after the fact.

(This can be done with only a few words. An example:
Once when we went out to dinner, my brother was maybe 9 years old, when the waiter brought the check, he also brought a pen. After the waiter left, my brother is looking REALLY excited about something. He blurts out, “WOW! You get a free pen!?!” The whole family really couldn’t stop laughing for about three days over that one. So, to this day, simply saying, “Free pen?” will reduce everyone in my family to laughing, drooling monkeys.)

So, while the family was all hanging out this last weekend, my dad was good naturedly ribbing my brother about something silly, and had only to say, “looking for the flowered mailbox,” to get my brother rolling his eyes, and everyone else giggling. My dad jokingly apologizes for “Opening old wounds.“
My brother replies with, “well, it’s not really a wound anymore.”
I quip, “Yeah, more of a mile rash.”

Seriously, I think everything I wrote here today is pretty much only funny to me. But really, that sounds like NOT my problem. Muwaahahahha.

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