Thursday, August 20, 2009

Classic Mom and Dad Moments

I haven't lived at home in two years and before that I was in school for 4 years so I havent really had to endure 10 days of the family in a very long time. But a few weeks ago we went on a family vacation for the first time in like 10 years. And this question came up for the first time in a long ass time: how the hell are me and my brother even semi-normal? The following are only the dialogues I actually remember from the trip...

Dad: Go to Blue Cactus.
(I have no idea what he’s talking about because this is completely out of context)
Me: What?
Dad: Go to the-
Me: What the hell are you talking about, though?
Dad: To eat. Go to the Blue Cactus. I was told it was good.
Me: What kind of food is it?
Dad(keep in mind that im literally right next to him): What?
Me(slowly, not so he can hear better but so it can register): What kind of food is it?
Dad: No.
Me: Are you serious? What kind of food is it? Is it Caribbean?
Dad: No. Definitely not.
Me: So then?
Dad: What?
Me: Jesus fucking christ…What kind of food does this place serve?
Dad: Caribbean.
Me: Mother of God.

(we just finished a dive)
Dad: Ivor, did you see the French angel fish there at the end?
Ivor: Yeah.
Mom: How was it?
Ivor: Dad’s like the worst dive master ever.
Dad(completely perplexed): What are you talking about?
Ivor: You pay no attention to us whatsoever. At least if you weren’t even here we wouldn’t think we were in reliable hands and we’d know we had to fend for ourselves.
Dad: You are crazy. I never took my eyes off either you for a second.
Mom: Where’s Siggi?
Dad: Who?

Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?
Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?
Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?
Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?

Mom: How’s work?
Me: I’m not talking about work on vacation. And don’t ask me if I’ve been going to the gym either. Is there nothing else in the life of your eldest son you give a shit about besides these two things?
(we eat in silence for 15 minutes)
Mom: Exercise is very important. Are you getting enough of it?
(I contemplate stabbing myself in the eye with my fork for the next 20 minutes)

Ivor: Goddamn it! I thought my towel had flown into the ocean. Now I realize you’ve been using it to wipe the saltwater off the floor of the boat!
Dad: This is your towel? Not hotels?
(it’s the only towel that doesn’t look like all the other hotel towels.)
Ivor: You watched me pack it. Screamed at me since it looked too large.
(dad continues to wipe brine from the boat bottom so he can put his camera there)
Ivor: Are you serious?
Dad: Its too late now…

Mom: How’s the cake?
Dad: Terrible. But at least it’s not very sweet.
Me: Maybe if…never mind.

(my dad walks by in a tiny speedo, his diving boots, and a support belt around his waste. Words cannot describe how retarded he looks)
Me: I can’t tell if those children are crying or laughing. Can you put something normal on?
Dad: I’m hungry too. We’ll get dinner in a bit.
Me: What?
Dad: Huh?

Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.

(We’re going 20 km/h. Yes. You read that right. Kilometers an hour)
Mom: Slow down.
(there’s a stop sign a quarter of a mile away)
Mom: Stop sign.
Ivor: Shut up, woman.
(there’s a car coming in the opposite direction. A rare event indeed)
Mom: Car coming.
Me: Jesus Christ.
Dad: Seriously. Chill out.
(a car passes us on the major road completely legally)
Mom: ***the shrill cry of a thousand banshees. No human has ever reached this pitch***
(my dad starts swerving off the road and regains control. The car stalls. He swings around in his seat)
Dad: I almost crashed the car because you screamed for no reason. Do you understand how counterproductive this is?
(she stares at him like an alien is explaining their light speed technology to her)
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
Me: Someone just kill me.
Ivor: Take the next left.
Mom: Stop sign. Slow down.

Dad: Do you have everything?
Ivor: Yeah.
Dad: Mask, fins, BC. You don’t have something out there and it’s too late. No dive.
Me: We checked.
(at the dive site)
Dive Master: Sir. Where’s your weight belt?
Dad: It’s not in the bucket?
Dive Master: Why would it be in the bucket? Did you put it there?
Dad: Your mother must have taken it in last night?
Ivor: Mom got on the boat and took your weight belt which she’s never seen and brought it back to the room?
Dad: There’s no other explanation.
Me: Court adjourned. You heard it.
(back at the dock the dive master is kidding around with me the next day)
Dive Master: Make sure the old man brings all his stuff, eh?
(dad overhears. Comes running over)
Dad: What is this?
Dive Master: I was just telling your son to make sure you didn’t forget anything. They have young minds. Me and you are getting old you know. It happens.
Dad: Yeah. These two forget everything everywhere. Never paying attention.
(I can’t tell if the dive master’s face reads disgust, confusion, pity, or desire to inflict pain. All I know is I’ve seen the face before and just affiliate it now to the “dad just said something to someone that doesn’t know him” face)

Mom: Ivor, you’re too skinny. You’re like a twig.
Mom: Ivor, you’re too fat. You should lose some weight.

(when you read dialogue by my mom in this section do so in the most annoying and nagging voice you can think of. Actually. Come to think of it that’s how you should always read it regardless of the section)
Mom: Siggi. Put some sunscreen on. You’ll get burnt.
Me: I already did.
Mom: Ivor, why don’t you sit outside instead of in here?
Ivor: If I wanted to sit outside I’d sit outside. I can walk you know?
Mom: Why don’t you walk on the other side of the street where there’s a sidewalk?
Me: Chill out. We’re not retarded, you know?
Mom: It’s very sunny, Ivor, you should put on sunglasses.
Ivor: I’m going in the water to swim. Jesus Christ.
Mom: Did you take your pills?
Dad: You’ve asked me a hundred times. The answer is still yes.
Mom: Why don’t you fold your sheet like this?
Me: I can’t take this anymore.
(my moms swimming in the ocean as we are putting our gear on. She’s visibly struggling to fight the current and simply stay on the surface)
Dad: Kati. Put on your fins. It will make it much easier.
(she stands up. Waves hit her causing her to stumble repeatedly as she screams)
Mom: Why can’t everyone leave me the hell alone? I just want to do what I want okay? It’s my vacation too. Why can’t you all just let me be?! Jesus fucking Christ!!!
(my ribs have never hurt this bad before. Ivor almost falls off the cliff laughing)

(the back story here is that someone stole all four tires off of our rental truck)
Dad: Is this a good spot?
Diver: It was beautiful. Slippery to get in though.
(they get into their truck to leave)
Dad: Are these new tires? Did you get them last night?
Diver: What?...This is a rental…
Dad: (laughing hysterically) No. It’s just that someone stole all our tires last night.
Diver: Oh.
Me: Do you not understand like how jokes work?
Dad: It’s funny because they took our tires last night.
(The guy starts to pull away slowly. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.)

Katie: Ivor. Did you get burned?
Dad: Ivor is get so red he is dying. I am like don’t but he just keep doing. Now look at him.
(Katie obviously is in “what the hell just happened mode.” But apparently this was a joke because my dad is cracking up.)
Me: Can we please record this and pitch it to cable? Who wouldn’t watch this? This is hilarious.
Dad: I know. I am big funny one.
(TV fucking gold)

Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.
Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.
Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.
Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.

(My dad is playing with someone’s baby like it’s a puppy on the plane. A retarded puppy.)
Person: Can you stop touching my baby?
Dad: Yes. Is baby.
(She makes that same face I was talking about earlier. I mean. Come on. If you’ve met my dad then you’ve made it before.)