Giving Thanks

I went home for an extended Thanksgiving break last week. A week ago exactly, I just arrived back home and got in my favorite chair and began the week-long relaxation process. Of course, I brought work to do, just like everyone else does. And, just like everyone else, I did absolutely none of it. I did, however, manage to compile a list of the things that happened during the weekend. In the third installment, here's what went down on the CT farm: (no, I don't live on a farm, but compared to Boston, it's quite... rustic.)

The day after I got home, I went out to dinner with my mom and sister. I locked the front door, and when I got in the car, my mom yelled at me. "Don't! If there's a problem with the garage, we won't be able to get in." "Ugh," said my sister, "why'd you lock it? Go back." "Go back," repeated my mother. Only in my family. Am I nuts, or do most people have house keys? Isn't that a pretty standard item? A key to your front door? I don't even want to put this in here, because I'm not proud of it. To avoid issues with my mother and sister, I did go back and unlock the door. And I wasn't happy about it. I don't care that we live in Pleasantville; forget safety - it's just too insane that we don't have a key to our own front door. That's so messed up, I don't even know that there's a proper joke to be made.

Along the same lines, I was watching Oprah that day and I saw Betty Broderick's son appear on the show. Betty Broderick is a woman who went nuts after her husband divorced her (admittedly probably having an affair at the time with his secretary) and then killed him and his new wife (the one he had the affair with.) Anyway, her son was on the show, prompting a family member - who, for the member's own dignity, will remain nameles - to say "Betty Broderick doesn't deserve all this punishment. Okay, maybe she shouldn't have killed the wife, but him? He deserved it. She's okay, Betty Broderick." I got nothing, only that it's not good when you suddenly get the scary-chills when you're sitting in your favorite chair in your (unlocked because your family HAS NO KEY!) house.

My sister brought up the best question she's ever asked me. We were watching TV (a common theme throughout the week) when she said, "You know, I've been wanting to ask you. How come you made me wash out that glass at mom's party?" See, when my mom had her birthday party, this whacko woman was the only one who couldn't drink out of a plastic cup. She made us get her a wine glass. So my sister got one, and I kept telling her to wash it out, just in case there was dust or anything. I was adamant. Anyway, her question is great. "I have absolutely no idea," I told her. "Excellent question though. Excellent question." I still have no idea. You don't give a crack addict crack. You don't give a whacko what she wants - and then go out of your way to be nice about it! What was wrong with me? I don't know. I remember being like, "Wow, what a rude freak," and I do remember telling my sister to wash out the glass. I hope she didn't follow my request, at the very least. I'm glad she brought it up, even though it was a few weeks later. It's good to know she keeps tabs on things like this, so they don't happen in the future. Ever.

Okay, this has been coming for a while: what the fuck is up with Atoosa, the editor of Miss Seventeen? First of all, how can someone named Atoosa get anywhere in life? Can you take that name seriously? I call her Tooty. Anyway, there's this show where all these girls live together and do various tasks trying to become the cover girl for Seventeen magazine and earn an internship. It's the most annoying show on TV, mainly because of two of the characters: Tooty and Jen. I'll get to Tooty in a second, but Jen is absolutely the whiniest crybaby ever to be on TV. I wish she were on Making the Band. Those girls would eat her alive, and Diddy would spit her out. All she does is cry. About everything. Every time something good happens, she cries. God forbid anybody give her any criticism - waterworks. Seriously, I was trying to make the joke, "Okay, Jen, cry now," after Atoosa said something like, "Jen, you did a nice job but you picked out the wrong shade of pillows." The joke died because guess what? She DID cry. Every time I think, "Okay, it would be absolutely ridiculous for her to cry right now..." she cries! Horrible. Atoosa is just as bad, if not worse. Who runs a successful teen magazine like this? She is horrible on TV, awkward as hell. These girls worship her, and all these awkward, "Atoosa is like Jesus to me," (I SWEAR this was a line) are all over the place during the show. Puke. Also, she has them do demeaning tasks like decorate a cute boy's dorm room. So glad we're teaching the girls of America - Seventeen's audience - to be independent and strong and capable. Nice touch.

Josh Beckett's coming to the Red Sox!!! He's got the guts of a burglar!!!

Just a note: I'm still not over a few things in life. One, when I was in third grade, I had to go have some educational testing done and the lady said she'd play Jenga with me when we were done. We never played Jenga, and I never forgave her for it. Years later, my brother had to go for the same thing and guess what? He played Jenga all the freaking time. I don't care. This woman is a liar to me. I still have issues with Jenga. Second, I worked my ass off in my chemistry class freshman year. I mean the works - doing every homework problem, outlining every chapter, never taking any shortcut. I ended up with a B+ for the year, even though it could easily have gone the other way to an A-. Kills me, every time I think about it.

They ended the Rev Run show, Run's House. Easily the best six episodes of any reality show. I'd put Newlyweds in there too, but it's to depressing right now. Nick and Jessica... noooooooooo!!

Randomly, in the middle of dinner at the Chinese restaurant, this guy yelled out, "Holy Crap!" three times. Nobody even looked in his direction, except me, my mom, and my sister. Meanwhile, my mom was talking kinda loudly during dinner and then when we would get into a little debate, we'd all talk a little loudly. Of course, everyone stared US down. Forget the "Holy crap!" Tourette's guy.

Every time we get Chinese food, we read the fortune cookies. (Who doesn't, when you think about it.) On the back, there's often a word in Chinese that my sister and I read to each other and give a clue about what it means. I don't know why we do this, but it's definitely not the strangest tradition. Anyway, I said to my sister, "Si-yue showers bring May flowers." My sister says, "spring?" Jesus.

We went to my brother's school show after our dinner. This guy comes over, stands behind the seats for a minute and says, "Hannah?" None of us respond. "Hannah? Hannah?" He's leaning right towards my sister now. Finally, he's right behind her face, really. "HANNAH?" My sister turns aroud. "Oh, you're not Hannah." Ladies and gentlemen, we have a genius. If you're about two inches away from someone, practically shouting their name, don't you think they'd turn around? Just an idea. This actually reminds me of my single favorite Warren memory. I was in the dining hall with my friend Liz, having lunch. A few feet behind Liz, this guy started saying, "Liz?" but she couldn't quite hear him. He kept going. "Liz? Liz? Liz? Liz? LIZ?" Finally, I tell her to turn around, I think someone's trying to get her attention. She does, and he nods and says, "Hey." And then he walked away. I still do this to her, when I see her, two years later. "Liz? Liz? Liz? LIZ! LIZ! .... hey." Gets me, every single time. Hannah? Hannah? HANNAH?!?!

Random joke from my brother: What's the difference between Michael Jackson and the moon?
The moon is round, and Michael Jackson molests little kids.

He followed it up with: Why'd the guy drop his lollipop while crossing the street?
He got hit by a truck.

My brother's sense of humor is ridiculous.

I was watching "True Life" on MTV. It was True Life: Jersey Shore. This girl met this guy in a club and in the worst exchange in cable history, this took place:
Girl: Do you believe in love at first sight?
Guy: Now I do. You know I'm coming home with you, right?
Cue the happily-ever-after-with-three-kids-and-a-trailer-and-a-summer-share-in-Jersey-credits.

My brother and I had this conversation on Wednesday. I had a lint-roller at the counter from my fleece (it's one of those rolly things that you roll on your clothes to delint them). I told him I was upset with him because he hadn't given my momthis CD I made for her, even though I told him to do it and he said okay. Apparently, he still needed clarification as to why I was angry, because he kept asking me why I was mad. This is actually what he said to me, taking the lint roller and holding it up like a lethal blunt object:
"Tell me or I'll lint your face!"
"It's delint, moron."
"Tell me!"
"You already know why I'm mad."
"Okay, forgive me! Or I'll lint your face!"
You gotta give him that he understands a few key concepts here.

A few minutes later, I successfully made my brother scream like a little girl when I stood outside the bathroom and waited for him to come out and shout, "Boo!" Yup, we had some time on our hands.

Another gem from the brother: "Did you know England, France, Zimbabwe, Australia, New Zealand, France... all don't celebrate Thanksgiving? Do you think they even have a nice turkey dinner?" Probably not, Mike. Probably not.

And more: As we drove into this shopping plaza, my brother said to me, "That's where we're taking you, Elana... Animal City." He didn't even crack a smile.

Oh, wait, more: At dinner that night, the waitress only asked my dad if he wanted some wine. Didn't even look my way to offer. "It's your bangs," explained my brother. Oh. Of course.

"They should put me in charge of the world," said my dad later that night.
"Hey, I think the same thing about me," I told him.
There was a pause for a moment.
"Well, we should be. We have the judgment."

Oh man, hold up. The crowning comedic moment happened later that evening. This moment will be one of the all-time funny moments in my family history. My sister came home from shopping with her friends, and with her, she had this jacket. She put it on, and I remember thinking, "Wow, that looks snug, even on my skinny sister." Without prompting, she said, "I even got it cheap, because I got it from the kids' store." Hmm. "What size is it?" I asked her. She hesitated. She didn't want to say. She finally said, "No, you'll make fun of me." "No I won't," I said. (Well, I went back on that. It was worth it though. Ten times out of ten, after hearing what she said next, I'd go back on it. No question.) "Fine," she said. "It's a kids' medium." I couldn't help it - I went through the roof. I don't even have the time or space to go through all the jokes we made:

"Hmm, that reminds me, there was this cute infant onesie I liked for myself I meant to pick up."
"Did you steal that from a child?"
"Hey, maybe Saturday, we can go to Gymboree. I hear they're having a sale."
"What is wrong with your friends who were like, 'Yeah, get a jacket that's made for a six year old?' "
"You do realize, you are wearing an item that was intended for someone half your age. Double your IQ, but half your age."
"I don't care that I said I wouldn't make fun of you. How could I fathom something this good?"
"This is easily the stupidest thing you have ever, ever done."
"The kids at the school you tutor at giving you fashion tips again, I see."
"Wait a minute, it's way past your bedtime!"

Even twenty four hours later, my brother yelled at my sister when she wasn't cooperating, "You do this or there's no trip to Gap kids for you!"

God, I cry just thinking about it.

My sister and I were later teasing my brother and torturing him by pretending to cut his hair. He got all riled up. "You haircut cunt!" We stopped after that. (As a side note, I apologize if anybody is offended by the word cunt. You'd have to hear my brother say it though. That's what gets him mad - even when he's angry, he says stuff with such diction and tone that you have to laugh. When we were kids, he'd beat us up, and we'd be laughing at the determination in his face as he did it. This made him even angrier. Same thing with cunt. He says it, and his tone is mad, but you know he's not meaning it in the way that would truly offend people. I swear, the kid is a comedic genius.)

Later, my sister asked my brother to change her away message to say "Happy Thanksgiving." This was the second dumbest thing my sister did this weekend. If you know my brother, you never ask him to change your away message. Anyway, she kept saying, "It better say Happy Thanksgiving, or you're gonna die." I had my laptop, so I checked he message. "Toilet attack... Happy Thanksgiving." Leave it to Michael.

My sister's friend Anaar came over after Thanksgiving to have dessert.
"Hartford ranks seventh on the list of cities with a lot to do," she told us. We kept telling her she must have read this wrong - like clicked on the "worst cities" list instead and got mixed up, but she was (idiotically) adamant.
"Anaar," I told her, "I love you, you're wrong."
"Anaar," my brother said right after that, "I don't love you, you're wrong."

This was creepy: A Thanksgiving guest said this of his crazy mother (who is crazy, I admit): "There is only one way to act around my mother without bloodshed, and that's agree with everything." In my three interactions with this woman, I've disagreed with everything she's said and been openly rude to her. I'm seeing some bloodshed in my future.

Seriously, who buy's a kid's medium?
I know! A second grader!

Oh, this was scaring. On Friday, my dad, sister and I wanted to go see a movie but we had to call the theater to get the movie times because that's what the paper said to do. So I called the theater to see when a few movies were playing, and we were in a restaurant at the time having breakfast. I called up, and it was busy, busy... then finally, I got through. I thought I heard something about "one screen... X rated adult films," but I was like, "God, this restaurant is loud, I think they just said something about pornos." Then, this creepy guy voice continues, "Today's showing is, "Drill her in the ass." I hung up and got all skeeved out.

"What's wrong?" my father asked from across the table.
"I... I.... "
"You called the wrong movie theater, didn't you?"

Once we got to the correct movie theater, my sister went out to get a drink. The girl is the skinniest thing ever, and all she does is eat. Anyway, she took $20 from my dad and returned with a small drink and some chocolate covered almonds. My dad held up the change. "$12.25 left. For what? A soda and some candy!"
"I thought you'd want these," my sister said, pointing to the candy. The thing was, we'd just had brunch. Only my sister can eat continuously like this.
"No," he said.
"Do you want me to return them?"
"No."
"I can return them."
"How much were they?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
She shrugged.
"You don't know? You have no idea how much you paid for this?"
"I got them for you!"
"You're not going to eat them?"
"I'll have a few."
"How much did you pay for them?"
"I'll go return them."
"Hold on, let me see how much they give you for... for what? We don't even know."
"I'm returning them."
"Well, if you'll eat them, fine."
"They're for you."
"I'm not going to eat them."
"I'm going to return them." She left to return them.
"Can you believe that?" he asked me. My sister returned with $3.50.
"That soda was $4.25?!?"
"It must have been," I said.
"That's impossible. You want to make a bet?"
"Sure. What are we betting?"
"The price of the soda."
"Okay." He got up to go check the prices.
"You owe me $4.25," he said when he got back. "She got charged the wrong price."
"What?" asked my sister.
"You got charged for the medium, when you got a small. You have to watch these things, Stephanie. You have to pay attention. Do you just not check to make sure you're getting the right change?"
At this point, the lights started to dim so my dad sat down. All of a sudden we hear these two clangs as the quarters fall out of my dad's pocket. This made all three of us laugh, and after the movie, my father spent a good two minutes scouring the floor for his 50 cents. I'm not sure my sister will ever get any concessions at a movie again.

My mom can be a pretty negative person, which kills me. We were watching "Spanglish" on TV later that night when she was like, "I hate this movie." On the movie "Shall We Dance," which I switched to because I figured she'd like that better, she again said, "I hate this movie." Then, on the news, her negativity roll hit an all-time high when she said, "I hate how they have to switch lines, every second." We put her on a negativity probation for five minutes. She couldn't say anything negative from 11:23 PM EST to 11:28 PM EST. She made it to approximately 11:24:03 PM EST before commenting on hating Jennifer Lopez. For the record, I'm not a fan either, but that's besides the point. Plus, she was already getting some serious lee-way for nasty faces.

And finally, some highlights from my brother, continued, to wrap it up:

"Some kid's gonna have to donate hair to you instead of locks for love because you're not gonna have any hair!" Nobody makes threats quite like him.

He announced that our neighbor was the "bravest woman ever." "Remember the time she killed all the bees in the tree?" Right. Forget Rosa Parks, Joan of Arc, Amelia Earhart.. think of any brave woman. None of them mean anything to my brother. Maybe someone who kills birds. She'd beat out my neighbor, but that's it.

"Cheese is a risky object for Jews."

Between him and my sister:
Michael: Turn around.
Stephanie: Why?
Michael: Turn around, I want to kick your ass.
Stephanie: No.
Michael: Come on, just once.

So there it is A week at home. What can I say, it really was a trip.

Mongrels

Sometimes, I think kids can be a drag. Don't get me wrong - I likea lot of kids and someday I hope to have four of them running around. Maybe it's that I've had a bunch of bad kiddie experiences in the past few days,but sometimes, I really just can't stand them. Today, my friend Paul told me he subbed for a third grade teacher. At first, I was like, "Oh, they must have been great! I love third grade." (It's true. I once thought I wanted to teach third grade. It's still something that I wouldn't say no to.) His response? "For the morning they're fine. But after lunch, forget it." Another teacher in the room interrupted him. "Yup. All they do in the afternoon is fart."

Umm, gross.

The coincidence is that throughout the weekend, I've had encounters with kids that have made me think, "These little people are insane." And, you know, it got me thinking: society puts up with this behavior, like it's nothing unusual or bad. For example, I was in Target on Sunday, enjoying my visit to the Christmas decorations. All of a sudden, I hear this brat whine to his dad, "Daddy, you didn't buy me any toys!" And then louder: "Daddy, you didn't buy me any TOYS!" And finally: "DADDY! YOU DIDN'T BUY ME ANY TOYS!" He totally flipped out at his father, who was calmly trying to explain why Daddy didn't buy him any toys that day. (How about: "Shut up, you think today is bad, keep acting like this, Christmas is gonna seem like a funeral, pal!") The only thing more disturbing than this kid was that the Christmas display included a light-up deer that had seizures every thirty seconds. Actually, this kid wasn't that different from the deer after all.

Then, not even an hour later, I was at a restaurant and two booths away, this kid was whining about his food. I love the parents who clearly hear their kid wailing, and they do nothing. This drives me nuts. I know what everyone is thinking - just wait until I have kids, then I'll see. Maybe. I'm not going to say that I'm going to be world's greatest mom or anything, but I think I'll have the social manners to remove myself and my screaming monster from a restaurant so that everyone else can enjoy their meal. Worse than the restaurant is when you have a whiny kid in a movie theater. I hate when parents bring their little kids to movies that cleary aren't kiddie appropriate. One time, I went to see Spanglish with two of my friends, and this woman was in front of us trying to figure out what movie to see. I stupidly said that I heard that Spanglish was good. My friends were ready to kill me. The woman bought herself a ticket and wheeled her kid into the theater. At several key moments, the kid started to wail. I had nobody to blame but my stupid self. I'll never make that mistake again.

Today, walking into work, I saw that the preschool had brought their kiddies out to see a bus. Some woman was like, "Loook, kiiiiiidddiieees, loooook at the wheeeels." Then "looook at the colllooorrrs." Big whoop. My brother's teacher once told his class that they would have a surprise if they finished their work on time, and the surprise was showing them his folks' new car, a PT Cruiser. My brother's reaction? "It looks like a hearse." (Yeah, he can really kill a good time.) Sure, my brother was in fifth grade, but still, the point is: who cares about looking at a bus? Don't these kids see buses all the time? Isn't this insulting their supposed brilliance (apparently every child who attends this school is super special and brilliant)? I'm going to make an official suggestion in their suggestion box that they have the kids examine a shitbox car, like a beat-up Chevy. Ten bucks says no child attending the school has ever seen one of those.

And while we're on this, what's up with the kiddie voice? At what age is it no longer approrpriate to talk to your child like you've just sucked in about ten pounds of helium? I would say it should be the same age that a mom stops breastfeeding, but I've seen too many five year olds enjoying a snack. (I'm not even exaggerating. I saw a mom breastfeed easily a five-year-old at the mall once. This was so gross, I almost lost my lunch. And you know, these advocates of public breastfeeding would probably want to crucify me for saying it, but I don't want to see some kid who can freakin ride a two-wheeler being breastfed. Shouldn't there be a law against this?)

This all makes me think of the computer game The Sims. Everyone loves this game. I don't get it. Why would anyone find this fun? Hey, let's decorate a house, have some kids, and try to pay for everything and keep everyone happy enough not to kill each other or themselves. If my kid ever asks me to get a game like the Sims, I'm gonna save my money and just pull a Freaky Friday and have them swap places with me for the afternoon. "Here, kiddo, you figure out how to pay the mortgage, the electric bill, the cable guy, and get your sister to soccer practice, and I'll play a round of Horse with your dad." Which brings me to my next point: what's with the morons who buy this game for their kids? In twenty years, are there going to be a group of adults who played this game as children, who are going to stress out about money and life, and then tell themselves, "Calm down, it's just like the Sims"? God help society. I worry about this.

You know, the more I think about it, I think it's a good idea to make children earn their keep. Parents have been doing this for centuries, only lately, it's been frowned upon. I think some manual labor is an excellent idea. Look at history. Years ago, kids were part of the business of the family. If their dad was a farmer, they farmed. They sewed the family clothes. They didn't talk back. (Probably because they got whipped, but I'm not into that.) Anyway, my point is: kids have it GOOD if all they're asked to do is wash a dish. Give me a break. When I used to throw tantrums, my parents would threaten that they'd send me away to this psycho school that one of my classmates had to go to. It's basically an institution, but I think they were just like, "It's a very scary place, so shut up." Anyway, it scared the shit out of me, to tell you the truth. Once, my dad evenpretended to call up the place, and when I told him I didn't believe he did it, he went outside the back door, and rang the doorbell. I nearly shit myself, I was so scared. I've got a similar idea. If my kid complains about doing chores, I'm going to keep the number of some place in Asia or South America where they don't have the child labor laws really enforced. "Oh yeah? You don't want to set the table? How does 18 hours a day on a machine manufacturing designer sneakers sound?!"

I kid, of course.

But all of this brings me to my final point (no, it's not about sweatshops. Obviously I oppose those.) What all of this comes down to, of course, is that parents deserve a lot of blame (unless you just get a bad kid, in which case, you're totally screwed - you have to take care of the kid forever. Talk about a raw deal.) Anyway, these parents are the same people who take twenty minutes to decide what they want once they're at the front of the line. They're the same people who can't operate cars, cameras, and their umbrellas. They're the same morons who run the telephone customer service lines (unless you call Dell, in which case, I'm pretty sure some guy in a tiny hut in India is trying to help you save your computer. Give up).

Haven't we always been taught that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree? It's not like we're working with a prime batch of apples or anything - some of the parents we're talking about have hit most of the stupid branches on their original descent from the old apple tree. So, is it any surprise that these morons are raising morons?

No, of course not.

Say Cheese

This happened to me yesterday. Every single bit of it. Experiences like this, well, they make me appreciate solitude.

I was in the copy room when this woman approached me and asked me if I'd be willing to take a picture for her. Who says no to these requests? Obviously nobody, so I said okay and I went left my copies and went to the room next door. Admittedly, I wasn't in the best mood because I'd just had a big fight with the copier and I was getting really frustrated and annoyed about life (seriously, I could FEEL myself get tense and annoyed and mad... it's bad when that happens.) So I go in the room, and this other woman hands me the camera.

"Now, you push down on this button. It's a cell phone, really, can you see that?"

No, I thought the whole number buttons were for different film speeds.

"Okay, so you push down on this big silver button here, do you see that?"

"Yes." No. Jesus.

"And now, you look through, well, either the view finder, or see here, the screen in the back of the phone, see how that is also a view of the room? Right? You can see that?"

"Yes." She must think I'm blind.

"Now, you just move this around like this" - she waves around the camera - "to get the shot you want."

"So, I move the camera around until I get the shot I want?"

"Right!"

"And I push down on this silver button here?"

"Count to ten, outloud, when you're pressing, just so we know it's done. You can't just press and release. Watch, see, press, release, press, release, nothing!"

God help me.

"Now, don't put your finger in the way."

You mean you don't want a picture of my finger? Cause I'd love to show you one of my fingers right.... about... now.

"Okay, we're going to get posed. Everyone, get together!"

Five people get in front of this white screen.

"Now, what I want you to do, Miss, is I want you to say, 'I'm going to count to three, say cheese,' and then - "

"Count to three and say cheese?"

"No, don't take the picture!"

"No, I meant, you want me to say, 'I'm going to count to three and say cheese,' and then I should count to three and say, 'say cheese?' "

"We'll be the ones saying cheese, dear."

"Right."

"So, you say, 'One... two... three... Say Cheeese!' and then hold down the button for ten seconds. And be sure to count outloud to ten."

"Right." I used to think that people who took bad pictures of tourists on purpose were horrible people. I don't think that anymore.

"But don't just count really fast, it has to be slow, like 'one one thousand...' "

"I got it."

"We should all smile for the ten seconds, just to be safe."

"Fine."

"Okay, and we should all not smile for a minute or two, because our muscles won't hold."

"What's this picture for?"

"She just got her doctorate degree!"

"Is this for a newspaper or magazine or something?"

"Oh, no, just my personal [apparently Pulitzer-caliber] collection."

"Great. Are you set?"

"I think so. Do we look symmetrical?"

(There are two short Asian women, this older photo dictator, a tall woman, a young chubby guy and a guy who's 6'4".)

"Yeah."

"Okay then. Everyone, get ready."

"Okay, one, two, three, say cheese."

"Cheeeeeeeeeese."

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten."

"Did you get it?"

"Oh yeah, I got it."

"Okay, I thought it was a bit quick on the counting, that's all."

"Oh, you did?"

I hand the camera back to her. Next time, take your own damn picture.

Weekend Wrap Up

This past weekend, I went home to celebratemy mom's 50th birthday. I bet she'd die if she saw that I just put her age in print. Although maybe not, my mom's not really one to get hyped up about age. Anyway, my point is, I was home. And, as always, with my family, it's always an enlightening experience. Here's some of what ensued.

- My weekend began on Thursday afternoon, with my right index finger getting slammed in a door. I swear, I yelled "fuck" in like ten different languages at ten different decibals within about a ten second span. It's all blueish and dead. Only now am I getting some feeling back, and normally that's not so bad, but you'd be surprised how much a person uses their right index finger. Plus, it looks disgusting and people have been telling me I'll probably lose my fingernail and it will take a year to grow back. I love hearing these things. It's only second to hearing, "Ewww, oh man, what's on your finger?!" when you're talking with someone. I wish my middle finger was the gross one, becuase it would be so ironic to flash it right back at these people.

- The Commuter Rail is an interesting place. I took the rush-hour train to Worcester, so I got a good idea of what the average commuter is like. It reminded me of going to jury duty a few years back. When I went to jury duty, and saw what a jury of my peers looked like, I got freaked out for life. Pretty much the same thing on the Commuter Rail.

- My sister, dad, and I went to dinner when we got home. We were at this restaurant, and the waitress came over to take our order. She asked if we were ready, and we all said yes. Then, as she went through each of us ordering, all three of us took about ten minutes a piece to order, change our mind, make an amendment to our selection, and argue with each other over what we were getting. I would have been pretty peeved if I were this waitress.

We also had an interesting conversation topic at dinner, where my sister unveiled her newfound obsession with all things CSI related. She treated our topic like she was the lead detective at a crime scene investigation. I'd go into more detail, but I really can't. Suffice it to say that the couple next to our table kept looking over at us, wondering whether we were crazy or whether they were going to be called in as witnesses during a police investigation. Even writing this is sketchy and weird.

- My sister and I absolutely love the MTV show Run's House. It's on at 10:30 on MTV, and if you're not watching... something's wrong.

- Also, my sister did make an official notice that it took me approximately seven minutes for me to claim the best TV chair and the remote. I think I relinquished control of these two things maybe twice all weekend, and let's face it, that's being generous. Pretty much, if I'm home, I'm either in this chair, or I'm asleep.

- On Friday morning, I played the age-old trick on my sister. I can't believe she fell for it. The sink has this water sprayer thing, and I called my sister over, and I sprayed her with the water. She freaked out. The thing is, I'm shocked, and frankly, disappointed, that she let this happen. We've been doing this game for years, and it's been nearly impossible for either of us to fall victim to the spraying. Poor form.

- My mom, sister, and I took a trip to the mall, where we went to Nordstrom's Cafe for lunch. My sister loves this place. While there, I was reminded of this story. The cafe has this decadent chocolate cake, and it's always on display. When we were younger, my sister and I would look at it like chubbos and think it looked pretty good. We'd never get it - we'd always just get lunch - but it was like this really nice looking dessert. Then, a few years ago, we were in the Nordstrom in Providence with my cousin, and we were having lunch. All of a sudden, this guy sat down at the table next to ours with a slice of the cake and the big glass of milk. He kept looking over at us, inching closer, as he ate his cake. The thing was, though, he kept taking these huge bites and he kept burping and slobbering and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. It was easily the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. All of us kept looking over at him, furtively, in shock that this guy was eating the cake like this. Seriously, if it is possible for someone to violate both food and other diners simultaneously, this guy was doing it. Anyway, the point of all of this is that whenever we see the cake now, we want to puke.

- I'm not sure whether this exists in other families, but in my family, you have to bargain with someone to get a favor. Seriously. When we were kids, you know what we'd bet each other? Slavery. I'm not kidding. If you lost a bet, or a competition, or whatever, you had to be the person's SLAVE for the day/night/week. The worst part? We actually followed this! Anyway, as we got older, we obviously didn't do this anymore (though at some point during the weekend, I have a distinct recollection of asking my brother if he wanted to make the slavery bet, and he opted not to), but still, the remnants are there. If I ask my sister to get me a diet coke, nine times out of ten, I'll hear later that night that I have to do her dishes because she got me that coke. Seriously, I might as well put the diet coke on layaway. It really is that bad.

Me: Steph, on your way back downstairs, will you bring me a diet coke?
Her: No.
Me: Please? Come on, do it.
Her: Ughhhh
Me: Come on, I got you a cookie yesterday.
Her: Yeah, but I'm not going in the kitchen.
Me: Come on, I did your dish last August.
Her: Ughhh, fine, but you have to wash my glass, too.
Me: Fine.

You'd think I'm making this up, but I'm not. My sister used to say she couldn't go get napkins because she had ADD and she would get lost on the way. (And YES, she DID say this. She's probably going to get all bent out of shape about me putting that in, but it's the truth. She used to get bent out of shape when I told her she sucked at violin, when I laughed at her for falling on her face tap dancing, and when I didn't appreciate her bullshit birthday gifts. She'd get my dad to yell at me for insensitivity, and now we look back on this and see how brilliantly she played him. Well, she never put one over me. I knew her game. And I'm serious, she used that ADD excuse every time we got take out, and she knows it.)

(I'm getting over it.)

(It's a slow process.)

- Last Thanksgiving, I saw the movie "Christmas with the Kranks." The mother in there goes nuts every time her daughter calls. She yells out, "Bllllaaaaaaaaaiiirrr!"

I have no idea why, but this struck everyone as hilarious, and when I see my brother, whose name is Michael, after not seeing him for weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds, whatever, I've pretty much been yelling, "Blaaaaaaaiiiir!" at him.

Sometimes, I just say it randomly. Not quite sure why I'm including this, but it gets my brother every time.

- Speaking of the infamous Michael, he had this gem to offer at dinner on Friday night: "The day after I turned eleven, I wet the bed. Mom got so mad at me, I never did it again."

- My sister wondered, "Why is it important to have hand-eye coordination in baseball, anyway?" She asks me whether players wear glasses, and questions how someone with bad eyesight can play baseball. Apparently, she had never heard of contact lenses.

- I had written about my sister's follow up to my brother's admission to peeing in his bed, and I had removed it after I thought she would be too angry. But she brought it up after she read this, so I'm editing and adding it. Basically, she reminded us of the time that she peed on her seat at the dinner table, after I laughed so hard at something that water came out of my nose. (Yeah, we're a pretty nasty bunch, I guess.) Anyway, my mom (again) was unhappy at this (shocking!). My brother did a pretty good impression of my mom yelling at my sister to change her jeans and to put them directly on the floor by the washing machine, NOT in the laundry basket with the other clothes.

- My sister and brother go to extreme lengths to make a successful joke. Like on Friday night, they told me they wanted to watch "Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen" just to see how long I'd sit through it. Well, the couch is comfortable. So I had to watch about an hour and a half of absolute trash. At the end of it, they both looked at me in bewilderment. "We just wanted to see if you'd be able to last through it all." Yeah, nimrods. You wasted the 90 minutes, too. I mean, really, do they think these things through at all?

- This was a fun conversation:
Mom: Michael, are you coming with me at 1 or at 3 today?
Michael: I don't care.
Mom: Well, choose.
Michael: Whatever's easiest.
Mom: It doesn't matter.
Michael: I don't care.
Mom: You have to be here for Stephanie to give you the test. (Oh, right, as a subplot, my sister's been administering IQ tests to my brother. Even worse, my mother has been taking the results seriously. "Did you hear? Your brother's IQ is like, 140," to which my sister responds, "Mom, seriously, I don't think I did the test right." "Oh no," says Mom. "He's a genius." God.) So when do you want to go?
Michael: I'll ask Stephanie.
Stephanie: I don't care.
Michael: Okay, well, I'll just decide later.
Mom: Michael, just choose.
Michael: I'll go at 3.
Mom: You'll go at 3?
Michael: Yeah, I'll ask Stephanie when she needs me.
Stephanie: I want to test you later. I have to do my hair now.
The conversation ends. At 1, my mom and I are in the car.
Mom: Where's Michael?
Me: He's coming later.
Mom: What? I have to come all the way back here for him? Backtrack? No. Where is he?
She beeps the horn.
She beeps the horn again.
My brother opens the door.
Michael: What?
Mom: You're not coming now?
Michael: No, I'll go later.
Mom: But Stephanie wants you to do the test later.
Michael: She doesn't want to test me at all anymore.
Mom: Well, come now.
Michael: Okay.

- I had to pick up the Chinese food for my mom's party. So I went to the restaurant and it was taking waaay too long to pick up this special order. So I tell the host, whom I know, that he's got to speed it up. The place is pretty busy, and he keeps seating people instead of going to get the food. So I grab him before he goes to seat the next family, and I say to him, "This is really taking way too long. It's just not acceptable. I've been waiting fifteen minutes, the party starts in five minutes, this shouldn't be happening. I don't want to see another party seated until I have my order. Even if that means going back and bagging it yourself, I really need the food, okay?" And he goes. I think the guy in back of me was shocked.

Two seconds later, my sister comes in from the car. "Hey," she says to me, "you've got to do something. This is ridiculous. Are you just standing here, doing nothing? You have to be aggressive."

Yeah, my sister doesn't really know me I guess. When I tell her I've got it under control, she leaves.

"Must run in the family," says the guy behind me.

- On Sunday, my dad drove us back. In the car, we were talking about this woman my dad knows. She happens to be a pretty rude peson, in addition to being just plain unattractive. Apparently, my dad went out with her once, without knowing what she looked like. My dad's not a shallow guy or anything, but he just hadn't seen her before. Anyway, I asked him how he could go out with her, she's so awful, and all that. And my dad goes, "Well, I showed up, I had to go through with it. I just kept telling myself, 'Just have a drink, get through the hour.' "

"Eww, what did you even think when you saw her?" I asked him.

"Well," my dad said, "I could tell right away that she wasn't doing a good job of projecting femininity."

Come on, is that not the best euphemism for "ugly" that you've ever heard?

- We decided to go to the movies before going to see my grandmother. So we ended up in Kendall Square. First of all, my dad, a native Boston guy, was like, "Aren't you impressed at how well I know my way around?" approximately 3.2 seconds before he found himself trying to turn the wrong way on a one-way street.

We made it to Kendall Square, but we had no idea where this movie theater was. My dad asked this random woman if she knew. "Oh yeah," she said. "I'm going there now, actually." That was the end. We had to follow her to the movie theater, apparently. This made both me and my dad think about Larry David and Curb Your Enthusiasm, because this was the perfect comedic situation for him and the show. For a few minutes, my dad had to make this awkward conversation with this woman about what movie she was going to see, what movie we were going to see, etc. It was like he was forced to make small talk with her. Why couldn't she just give the directions to the theater, rather than assume that we had to follow her? I can't decide if she's weird for that, or if my dad and I are weird for thinking there's something wrong with her in the first place.

- I might be ambivalent about her, but Cambridge has got some kooks. While waiting for the movie to start, the guys in back of us were talking about heart palpatations they got from drinking coffee, and how it's nearly impossible to remember to ask for decaf when they go to Dunkin Donuts. One of the guys was like, "They should have a warning about palpatations, just to remind us." Like the palpatations aren't warning enough. Look, I get sick looking at that Nordstrom chocolate cake- just from the memory of watching that guy have a drag-out fight with indigestion. If I had heart palpataions from something, I think that would be enough to trigger the "Must Not Order" reaction.

- You might remember this from "To Grandmother's House We Go," but my family cannot decide where to go to dinner in 250 words or less.

Dad: Where do you want to eat?
Grandma: I don't care.
Dad: Any ideas? We're open to ideas.
Nobody says anything.
Dad, looking at me: How about Kowloon? (Whenever I say I don't care, my father always chooses something he knows I can't stand, because the following happens.)
Me: Eww, no, absolutely not, I hate Kowloon.
Dad: So you do care.
Me: You know I hate Kowloon.
Dad: It's an entirely new menu.
Me: I don't care.
Grandma: You know, they have an entirely new menu. I got sick that once, oh, I was so sick. The food was delicious though. But I didn't go back for a while. But now it's good. They have a new menu.
Dad: See? They have a new menu.
Me: No.
Stephanie: We had Chinese food last night.
Saul (Grandma's "Companion," and the owner of a used Corolla, which is cuter than I expected): How about Applebees?
Grandma: Applebees is good.
Stephanie: I hate Applebees.
Grandma: They have this steak. They used to have it, and then one time they didn't, and I asked the waiter. And the manager came out and they made it anyway. It had.. what did it have on it?
Saul: Peppers.
Grandma: Peppers.
Dad: Okay, let's go to Polcari's. (We end up there every time.) Is that okay with you guys?
Grandma: Polcari's. It's fine.
Dad: Saul, you can get a salad.
Me: What? Why does he have to get a salad?
Dad: Saul has to get a test done tomorrow, so he's worried about what he eats tonight. He can get a salad at Polcari's.
Saul: Whatever. (He had pizza.)
Dad: Do you want to eat here instead, Rita? I'll bring the food back?
Grandma: Eat Chinese food or Italian food?
Dad: Italian.
Grandma: No...
Dad: Would it make a difference if it were Chinese food?
Grandma: I only have six chairs.
Dad: Well, I could sit in the recliner and eat.
Grandma: It's messy.
Dad: What's the difference if you eat Chinese food?
Grandma: You want to eat in?
Dad: If you want to. It might be more relaxing, I don't know.
Grandma: Italian? No, you don't bring Italian in. Chinese, maybe, but Italian? You don't bring Italian in. Even Chinese food...I only have the six chairs. Saul, maybe you could move the chair... I mean, Italian? You don't bring Italian in.
Dad: Okay, we'll go out. Let's go.
Everyone starts to get ready and head out.
Me: You know, if you get the food to bring in, everyone can have what they want... Chinese, Italian, whatever.
Stephanie: WHY did you just do that? We had decided!
Dad: That's true. Rita, what do you think?
Grandma: Bring food in? Italian?
Dad: No. I'd bring you Chinese. You can get what you want. Everyone gets what they want. I'll go pick it up.
Grandma: I only have six chairs.
Dad: Okay, we're going out.

Until next time.