I had the dubious pleasure of listening to an argument between my parents on our way to a hockey game last night.
Dad: “Kyle didn’t make the meeting yesterday because he has a concussion from when he fell down drunk last week.”
Mom: “It wasn’t last week! It was in January during (the time of) Tiffany’s birthday.”
I certainly needed a passport because the conversation went south pretty damned fast.
Dad’s questions were:
- Why was Aaron and Tiffany at Kyle’s house? If they weren’t there, did they have the wine tasting at Aaron and Tiffany’s house? Okay, if they were at two different locations, what’s this have to do with Tiffany’s birthday? I don’t understand what you’re talking about – what does her birthday have to do with Kyle falling down drunk and getting a concussion last week?
Mom: “Jesus fucking Christ, Bob! You’re not listening! I need a beer.”
Dad: *pouting* “I’m in trouble. Again! You don’t need a beer. You’ll just take two sips and that’ll be the end of that.”
Mom snuck a little of a friend’s margarita during the game.