Shit my family says

I had to unleash the sarcastic beast in my last blog because of some yoga guru fake wiccan nymphomaniac doughy Grand Magus pothead had begun teaching some modified Bikram DaRoots sequence after the shitstorm he started. John is free to do what he chooses to and it's not my job to stop him. He might be an asshole, but he still has bills to pay. It costs money to keep his doughy figures, ya know. However, it is also important that people are informed and reminded of all the shit he did, before they make their decisions. Unconditional forgiveness is stupid and dangerous, and there are things should never be forgotten.

This blog is a bit more personal. No need to get your knickers in a bunch.

Going home to visit my folks has never been easy, and it gets progressively more difficult each time for different reasons. This time (almost three weeks ago really) was exceptionally hard because unlike the many previous times when I could go incognito, not only all my in-town relatives knew I was coming home, but I also had to babysit entertain some visiting relatives from London UK whom I had not seen since 600 BC.

Good time... yeah right. My only assignment was to make my parents proud even though they constantly and relentlessly embarrass me in public or at home. If that's their dharma... well, that's just a very sick joke on me.

Lets start with airing out some dirty laundry.

In case you haven't noticed already, contrary to what Lady Gaga claims, I wasn't exactly born this way. It took many years of melodrama, ass-whooping, being parented by bad parenting skills acquired from even worse parents, yoga workshops, therapy sessions, red hot chili resentment, WTF's, OMG's and such to give birth to Sarcastic Yogi. It is neither good nor bad, it just is. I know this applies to everyone on this planet, except he/she would have a different name and not as epic as Sarcastic Yogi. We all have family stuff. Like it or not, simplicity is almost never part of the recipe of family drama, except in a case like "my father is simply an asshole". We are involuntarily assigned titles like "brother" or "mother" or "granny" or "cousin" or "aunt" or "in-law" or "son" or "step-sister"... They are like hashtags on twitter, which the more tags you have, the more people are involved, and you may not like or even know them. To those who don't know what a hashtag is, Google it. And to those who don't know what Google is... well, there is no way in hell you could've made it this far to my blog. No way. Satan said so.

But I digress... it's a 2-3 hour drive to my parents', depending on how much speeding I can get away with on the highway. The drive is usually my chance to catch up on "reading", i.e. audio books. While I was listening to "Shit My Dad Says" by Justin Halpern on my way home, it dawned on me that my family has some crazy shit to say, too, except it's often not as insightful, and it's always more ridiculous than funny. For the out-of-the-loop, "Shit My Dad Says" is a book and a (cancelled) sitcom based on Justin Halpern's tweets, which are a collection of crazy remarks his dad makes. Anyway, without further ado, here's some shit my family says.

At dinner table, Aunt Miranda met the visiting relatives from London for the first time. Before she said hello:
"Arrgh! I hated London. The food was awful."

At dinner table, after finding out my cousin Don (from London) just had a baby girl:
Aunt Miranda: When did you get married?
Cousin Don: 2000.
Aunt Miranda: What!? It took you 12 years to have a baby?

After finding out Cousin Don's baby girl was adopted:
Aunt Miranda: What!? She's not yours!? You can't make your own baby?

At brunch, my aunt Irene from London made a comment about me looking buff. My mom, while putting more food on my plate, said to me:
"Why did you put on so much weight? You are fat."

When Cousin Don managed to pay the bill at the restaurant before anyone noticed his generous gesture, my mom said to me:
"You are useless. How could you let him beat you? So useless."

After numerous complaints from Aunt Miranda to my mom that I never called or visited, I finally gave her a call and her reply was:
"I'm very busy. I don't have time for you."

Mom insisted on taking Aunt Irene and Cousin Don to THE mall shopping:
Me: Mom, they live in London. I don't think THE mall has anything exciting for them.
Mom: THE mall is the biggest shopping mall in North America.
Me: Mom, they live in London. It is one of the largest cities in the world. It has the latest and a lot more to choose from.
Mom: You are taking them to THE mall.

Mom threw her jacket at me unexpectedly:
Mom: Put it on.
Me: I'm not cold.
Mom: Put it on. I am cold and I don't want you to get sick.

Uncle Sam (Aunt Miranda's husband) brought my dad a porno tape unexpectedly:
Dad: Huh!?
Uncle Sam: Everyone watches porn.

Upon visiting my first house the first and only time:
Mom: Your house is so tiny and ugly! Why does it have wood floor and not carpet? Nice houses have carpet.

I wanted to keep a part-time job when I was going to university so I had money to cover my expenses:
Aunt Miranda: How are you going to find time to study?
Me: I'll manage. Many students do that.
Mom: Listen to your aunt. We want you to quit your job.
Me: Then where am I going get money to buy books and stuff?
Aunt Miranda: Get a student loan.
Me: I already have one to cover tuition.
Mom: Don't spend any money then.

Cousin Steve: You drive a Honda?
Me: Yes, I drive a 2006 Honda.
Cousin Steve: 2006? Are you broke or something? Honda is a shitty car.

Cousin Steve: You are selling encyclopedia as a summer job?
Me: That's the only job I could find.
Cousin Steve: I'm glad I don't have to work like you people.

At Cousin Monica's wedding:
Aunt Miranda: Come look at my gown.
Me: It's lovely.
Aunt Miranda: It's very expensive. I paid a lot of money for it. 

After the first day of my first job ever:
Mom: Did you break anything? If you did, I am not paying for it.

At a grocery store:
Cashier: That'll be a dollar and ten cents.
Dad: One dollar, ok?
Cashier: Hmm... the total is a dollar and ten cents.
Dad: One dollar, ok?

There are a lot more (I may add them later), but you get the picture. The shit my family says sounds like lines from a sitcom, except they are real and are not intended for any comedic effect. I suppose, they are not bad people nor do they offend people on purpose. My family is obviously oblivious to any etiquette or common sense post-1960, so I don't even bother questioning or commenting any more.

You must now be wondering if this blog is leading to something, or if my mother is some demonic evil being... Stay tuned for my next blog. It'll all make sense... sort of.