yaaaaaaaaaaar.
Unlike most existential teens, I actually look forward to family dinners quite a bit. The crew, is crazy in the most entertaining way. Big hearted, loud, flamboyant, intelligent- they make a great group. So down I went, dressed in dads old bright green sweater, hair tied back, no make up, old frayed jeans and socks with cows on them to find the Dada Dadi the usual set of Chachas and Phupoos and one unidentified really old lunatic.
Here’s my deal, I don’t like kids. By kids I mean anyone younger than 16. No, I wont be your cool aunt, I wont oo and aa when you sing mary had a little lamb and I will definitely not do the baby talk. Anyway, I tolerate anyone older than sixteen, I adore the twenty somethings, I absolutely love the thirties and fourties and I can even handle the fifties and the sixties. Old people have stories, I like to listen, it makes a good match. I'm bitter enough for a 36 year old, idealistic enough for a 22 year old and cheery enough for a sixty six year old.
But then, these ancient people really freak me out.
If your old, then you fall into two basic categories. If male, you must sit in a corner, say NOTHING and smoke your malboro reds/cigars or sip on your scotch or whatever else you please. If youre female then you must tell me how pretty I am/look a lot like my mother offer to cook for me and generally be a delightful yet slightly senile presence.
But this woman, LUNATIC.
At 11-30 in the evening, she leaves, and im told that she has family in Minneapolis and the family has a son and the son is a neurosurgeon. The reason she took my name and number is because they are good law abiding muslims and we should all get together for some chitting and chatting and ‘get to know one another’. The grandmother knows my college is ten minutes away from the city, I gave her my MOBILE NUMBER.
I'M FUCKED.
I did however, look like a man. Perhaps that will deter this horrible horrible woman.
I'm being set up with neurosurgeons while one of my best friends in college is convinced im a suppressed lesbian.
Wonder-fucking-ful.
Here’s my deal, I don’t like kids. By kids I mean anyone younger than 16. No, I wont be your cool aunt, I wont oo and aa when you sing mary had a little lamb and I will definitely not do the baby talk. Anyway, I tolerate anyone older than sixteen, I adore the twenty somethings, I absolutely love the thirties and fourties and I can even handle the fifties and the sixties. Old people have stories, I like to listen, it makes a good match. I'm bitter enough for a 36 year old, idealistic enough for a 22 year old and cheery enough for a sixty six year old.
But then, these ancient people really freak me out.
If your old, then you fall into two basic categories. If male, you must sit in a corner, say NOTHING and smoke your malboro reds/cigars or sip on your scotch or whatever else you please. If youre female then you must tell me how pretty I am/look a lot like my mother offer to cook for me and generally be a delightful yet slightly senile presence.
But this woman, LUNATIC.
At 11-30 in the evening, she leaves, and im told that she has family in Minneapolis and the family has a son and the son is a neurosurgeon. The reason she took my name and number is because they are good law abiding muslims and we should all get together for some chitting and chatting and ‘get to know one another’. The grandmother knows my college is ten minutes away from the city, I gave her my MOBILE NUMBER.
I'M FUCKED.
I did however, look like a man. Perhaps that will deter this horrible horrible woman.
I'm being set up with neurosurgeons while one of my best friends in college is convinced im a suppressed lesbian.
Wonder-fucking-ful.
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