Sunday, April 5, 2009
This story demonstrates that being a weekend douche is genetic and that some, like myself, have heredity working against us at all times. When I was around the tender age of eight, myself and my parents went to Thanksgiving dinner at the house of family friends. We had a great time. Lots of food and a spectacular view of the bay from their deck. Around eight o'clock I became extremely whiny and wanted to leave. In my defense, this family friend worked with my parents and an eight year old can only take so much talk about teaching. My father, who was terrified to drive over the bridge which was on the way home, was pacing around and looking for the car keys. He would occasionally mutter things like "Alot to be thankful for this year" and " A Thanksgiving nightmare - Family of three plunges off bridge in flaming fireball". My mother, always the peacemaker, stepped in and proclaimed to the gathering that she would drive. My father reminded her of the perhaps 7 glasses of wine she had consumed and my mother said "That's ridiculous. I am fine". As soon the words left her mouth she pitched forward down the 20 odd wooden steps on the patio and gracefully landed on her butt. As a die hard fan of AFV, I found this hilarious and two minutes later had to run to the bathroom to prevent the laughter from becoming a physical manifestation of urine. We then said our goodbyes. We did get over the bridge in one piece, with my mother at the wheel. Don't try any of this at home kids.