Conversations that made me homesick this week... say a lot about my upbringing.

Lauren:  Mom is a tool and bought Costco mashed potatoes for my vegetarian thanksgiving

Me:  Tool for sure, but that’s what you get for doing the re-rack.

Laur: And I’m 25 and living at home

Me: Have you sexiled the rents yet?

Laur: No soccer sock on the door.  Double dare?

Me: Just what our family needs… family double dares.

Mere:  Cousin Kaitlin is bringing her bf to thanksgiving dinner.

Me:  Names dad is going to call him within the first hour before shit hits the fan… go.

Mere: Dumbass

Me: Dickwad

Mere: Whistle dick

Me: Fauker

Mere: Numbnuts

Me: Mom… I am afraid that the next time you mention love, marriage, or our old baby crib in the attic, you will be forced to put one dollar into the jar for our Vegas fund.  Then when we go to take the money, please kindly remind us that you should hang on to it so you can use it to bail us out of jail.

Lauren: I told dad that 25 is my prime and I am ready to find love… he said “shut up”

Me: So, you’re going on the Bachelorette for the right reasons?

Laur:  Know anyone?

Me:  I think the guy dressed as a devil on Halloween just became a lawyer.  Is that dad in the background doing that dumbass one foot in the air dance and singing, “If you don’t got no money take your broke ass home?”

Mom:  I cleaned out your room, got rid of your childhood guitar and letterman’s jacket and then read your yearbook.

Me:  I am not planning on dying over here, but thanks for casually telling me I am not allowed to move home when I come back from Asia after a year and a half of making no money.

Lauren: “Our fire alarm went off at 1am.  I think my roommates are smoking pot”

Mere:  So, for my 21^st we are having family personal pitcher night at Fidels with margs and then shooting pool at the Leucadian.

So… I pretty much can’t wait to sit around the dinner table and play “I hate you because…” 

Karma Hunters

My new chillip in crime gave me a shout out in her blog and now I feel obligated to return the favor.

When the two of us aren’t acting out a fantasy speed dating scene taking place in a monastery, or competitively trying to outdo Bhutanese by bowing lower than them or offering tea to them 4 times instead of the traditional three, this east coast Masshole and I are convincing people to refer to us as Biggie and Tupac.

The following interaction sums it up.

As Hilary’s house Grandmother circumambulated the house one Saturday, I casually pretended to get some fresh air on the balcony, which is too small for drinking tea and therefore only serves two purposes in Bhutan (one of which is drying a kira).

As Hil tampered with the washing machine below and Grandma rounded the corner out of sight, I whispered down to my chillip pal.

Tupac:  “Hey.  Charades.  What am I doing?”  (Pretending to scale the balcony and tiptoe)

Biggie:  “Hmmmmm… not day… hmmmm… NIGHT!” (Finger to chin looking puzzled)

Tupac:  “Yah, yah…”  (Pretending to cock a rifle)

Biggie:  “Hmmmm… I GOT IT!  NIGHTHUNTING!”

Hilary locks the balcony door every night and still has not been nighthunted.  G-ma is still circumambulating.

Lets just say that myself and two other whiskey drinking chillips dressed as night hunters on Halloween had a damn good time staging a fake shoot out on Bhutan’s only highway (2 lanes… no cars).  Ohhhh… the things that would get you arrested in the US.