Friday, April 15, 2005

That Primal Scream You Heard Was Me

This is Day 7 of the Parental Visit. One more day until I can get back to living my regular crap-ass, crackers-on-the-floor, alcohol-guzzling life. Actually, this visit has been pretty uneventful. There was only one occasions when I thought about ripping my fingernails out with the pliers...

The Seatbelt Battle:

Two nights ago as we were leaving the local pizza joint, my mom became confounded by the seatbelts in my car. She couldn't find the clasp. A discussion between her and her husband ensued which I will now quote in full:

Mom: I can't find the thingy.
Mom's Husband (MH): Do you want me to help you?
Mom: No. I can do it myself.
MH: Are you sure? Cuz I'll help you if you want.
Mom: I CAN DO IT. I just need to find it. Where is it?

{At this point The Boy starts to get anxious and starts to wail so from here on out the conversation is punctuated by 2-year-old screams}

MH: Here, let me help you.
Mom: I can do it. It's got to be here. Where is it?
{Insert Screaming}
MH (getting out of the front seat to check on the situation in the back seat) Here, do you want me to do it?
Mom: Fine. Maybe YOU can do it.

{Wailing and lamenting from The Boy continues}

MH: Well, where is it? Are you sitting on it?
Mom: I'm NOT sitting on it. I'll do it. Just go sit down.

{Wailing increases to siren strength}

MH: It's got to be there somewhere. We just have to find it.

{Wailing has reached the 100 decibel mark.
The Office of Homeland Security has been called in.}

Mom: I've been looking! What do you think I've been doing?
MH: Are you sure you can find it? Oh wait... there it is.
Mom: I told you I'd find it. Now go sit down.
MH: You got it? Do you need my help?

{At this point The Man starts to gun the engine in case he needs to outrace the police who are surely on their way by now.}

Mom: Ok. We can go now.

Is it any wonder I'm as fucked up as I am?


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