Giving Thanks...

Let me preface this by saying that my parents are decent people. There's just something about three VERY different personalities coming together into my small apartment that drives me absolutely mad.

8:00 AM - My mom's preparing food in my kitchen. My dad's watching TV. I'm holiday shopping on the lap top. Already this morning my mother broke my dish scrubber, my father questioned whether he needed to shower this week at all and I went ahead and took my anxiety medication as a precaution.

8:22 AM - "Reba McEntire reminds me of a country elf" - my father. We're watching the CBS Thanksgiving parade. 

8:34 AM - My mother doesnt remember a story about my sister and me visiting Santa Claus at the mall, but she remembers a news story about a skunk getting his head stuck in a peanut butter jar. And she pronounces mayonaise as "meh-nez". 

9:47 AM - Dad has his first beer. apparently I inherited my holiday nervousness from him.

10:17 AM - The first "fuck you" of the day has been thrown. The thrower being my mother and the receiver is yours truly. This after the fiasco a few minutes before where my dad told me to stop saying the "f" word.

10: 26 AM - my dad ran away in shame after telling me that on any given set, they use about three different dogs to play "Wishbone". He didn't want me to know the horrible truth. I then told my dad that Wishbone's probably dead now, anyway.

10:31 AM - my mom asked my dad to grab some "farks" for us to eat with. I asked her if she was going to wear her "sharts" while she did it. My mom, apparently, can't speak English. The wine has been opened.

11:00 AM – We eat our Thanksgiving food (all vegetarian) with wine. My mom talked about the skunk getting its head stuck in the peanut butter jar, again. My dad apparently gets his life confused with Seinfeld episodes. Dr. MF texted me a happy thanksgiving, but I didn’t respond.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.