As you may have noticed from my last post, my father and step-mother came to visit me at school this past weekend, and of course it brought some major LOLz, mainly in the department of the weird things my father says and does. It’s a little hard to gather every instance from this weekend and make it into a killer blog post, but I am going to try and put as many memories as I can down. Ready?–go. Ok. Upon picking them up at the airport, my step-mom, or ESM (evil step mother) as my father refers to her, decided to try her hardest to do her part so that I would have something to blog about. She sat in my dorm room, on the couch “air-typing” what my post should say. It was funny though, because when they weren’t trying to be blog worthy, they were totally blog worthy. Basically, by being themselves, they were worthy of a post, which is why I’m writing this…right now…as you read.
The first instance was when we had breakfast at their hotel, at 9 in the morning, and my ESM couldn’t find the hot oatmeal, so she returned to the table and told my father she couldn’t find the oatmeal, which was the only reason she got the buffet option in the first place. My father then told her that it is indeed there and that she just didn’t look hard enough–she disagreed, but went back to check regardless. She returned 2 minutes later, oatmeal in hand. She then complained it was too cold, so she had it microwaved. Then it was hot enough for her, but she still deemed it terrible. It’s oatmeal, I don’t understand the big deal.
We went to see a movie in the afternoon at the mall, just the 3 of us, but I had one of my roommate and also another friend come with us because they needed a ride to the mall, so I figured I’d give them a lift. On the way there, my roommate decided to share her sex life with the car, and of course my step mother chimed in making it awkward for everyone in the car. I could tell my father didn’t know what to do with himself. Once we got out of the car, my step mom noticed that my roommate was wearing a short, white skirt and black stiletto heels–obviously her outfit from the night before. This led to an even more interesting conversation, on which I do not even need to think about because I have it with my roommate basically everyday anyways. We got into the mall and went our separate ways. We saw The Men That Stare At Goats. All I have to say is don’t waste your money. The cast is great, but the story is weak–very weak.
Then, later in the day, I took my step mom to see my sorority house because I figured she would like getting to interact with other girls my age and ask about their lives and such. I gave her a tour of the house, and she did her usual snooping as she commented on messy rooms. She poked her head into the kitchen where one of my sisters was making cupcakes. Without hesitation my step mom said “that’s not very good diet food”. Mind you, she said this to a complete stranger, excellent. She then asked if she could have a cupcake when they were ready–I don’t understand.
Later that evening, my ESM and I met my father at the hotel bar, where he decided to make fun of the Mason society that was having an event in the hotel that night. After making fun of them and their hats with the entire wait staff at the bar, my father finally decided to make his way over to the Masons themselves and ask questions. I have no idea what happened, but he came back saying how he asked questions pertaining to the new Dan Brown book, or something like that. Finally, all the bar chatter was finished, and we made our way to a nearby Thai place for dinner. Obviously my ESM complained from the moment she walked in because the decor wasn’t really up to par, I guess, but I ensured her that the food is really good, so we stayed. The food arrived, she made comments about everything being fried. Then she tasted my father’s food and was outraged at how high the salt content was. My father replied to her expressions with :”are you crazy? no it’s not” and she then went on to explain how he has a higher salt tolerance than she does–usually tolerances are associated with alcohol and pain…not salt. Regardless, I made it out alive and we parted ways for the night.
The next day we decided to have brunch, which turned into SLUNCH like I referred to in an earlier post. My ESM, father and one of my roommates drove to a restaurant my father and I really like for some burgers–don’t worry, ESM got a salad. Once we arrived, it took about 5 minutes to decide if we wanted a table, a booth, or a table with chairs on one side and a booth on the other–we chose the booth. We sat down and our waitress came to hand us menus. It seemed as if they forgot to give one to my step-mother, so my father exclaimed “we need one for my mother” and pointed to her. The waitress laughed and said something along the lines of “oh no way stop it” because it was obvious my step mother is not and does not look like my father’s mother. Obviously my father had to have one more line of input and left it at “lots of plastic surgery!”. The waitress left. The rest of the meal was pretty average, except for when we asked my ESM how her salad was and she told us “there’s too much lettuce”.