So my parents are moving next month to Texas (good Mexican food! T-shirts that say "Don't Mess with Texas!" ok, thats all I got for now). My parents are going through the house and getting rid of a lot of things in preparation for their smaller house. This is worrisome for many reasons. My parents usual weekend consists of seeing a RomCom movie, maybe going to a crafts fair, or touring an old Victorian mansion in a nearby town. Ok, typing this I am realizing what I have longed realized on many phone conversations with my parents. #1. Though they are in their 50's, they have the lifestyle of a nursing home patient who leaves once a week for "Sunday Outing!" and #2. My Mom has completely turned my Father gay. If it weren't for his unabiding 1950's era respect for authority, rigid politics, and apprehension for anything spicy - which runs the gamut from Indian food to wearing jeans - I would expect him to take antique-ing trips in the South of France and wear a scarf in the style of:
Anyway, so with this impending move, their weekends are turned upside down. What usually consists of a leisurely drive out to Amish country to procure some apple butter while my Dad sits on a bench, has now turned into frantic non-stop going through the entire house, most notably getting rid of things from my sisters and my rooms. This consists of approximately 893 calls a day from my Mom saying "I'm in your room. (Gutteral groan on my side of the phonecall) Do you need the Hollywood issue of Vanity Fair from 1997?" The answer to that is yes of course. Gretchen Mol was a break-out star back then, as was newcomer Matt Damon, and it is important to chronicle his meteoric rise. This morning my Mom calls me again from my quasi-childhood room. My parents left Minneapolis for Ohio after I went away to college, so the room that I had at their house in Ohio is simply a dumping grounds for all my stuff that I left there when I moved from my spacious apartment in L.A. to my tiny bach pad in NY. Also it contains relics from childhood and high school such as Liz Phair tapes, and those ever-important "Participant!" ribbons from uhh, the International Thespian Conference. We were all, 13, ok, 17 once. This morning I get a call from my Mom:
Mom: I am in your room and found this old purse of yours? Should I send it to you in New York? Oh, you have some things inside! An old ID card for a building in LA from 2005, do you need that?
Me: Yes. I need that now.
Mom: Oh, Michie! I just, there is just so much to go through. I wonder how soon we can get invisible fencing for the dogs at the new house? I am waiting for a phonecall back. Your Dad and I saw "Don't Mess with the Zohan" yesterday and it was just fabulous!
(Inaudibly talking to my Dad in the background: Wasn't it good? So funny!
My Dad: Yes, you know I love Adam Sandler, he knocked it out of the park again.)
Me: Mom, I kind of have to go. Whats up?
Mom: Always in a rush! Anyway, you should go with a couple girlfriends, you will laugh the entire time! Which reminds me, I'm meeting my friend at Starbucks on Wednesday, I just don't know how I'll find the time, I am just so busy these days.
Me: You're meeting someone in 3 days for coffee? I think you're ok.
Mom: Anywho, oh I found something else in that purse. Oh, its birth control pills! Let's see, do you need that now? Oh wait, it expired in 2007. (nervous laughter) Wow, that would be a disaster if you used them!
Me: Mom, is Dad still in the room with you?
Mom: Umm....
Me: GUTTERAL SOUND OF INTENSE PAIN/AWKWARDNESS COMMENCES.
Mom: Oh, I guess Michie's a bit embarassed! oops.
Dad: Hi Michie, its Dad here, on the speaker. Ummm. I don't know what kinda girl talk is going on now, but I'm just in here moving boxes. I didn't hear anything and you know, if there is birth control, I know that is just to regulate umm, your girls cycles. So I'm just gonna head down to the kitchen now for lunch. O-kay!
End scene. Today my father talked about my menstrual cycle. I want to die now. Also, I think this means he thinks I am a virgin?
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