|Carrie, Nina, Danielle, Rachel at Sunday Dinner|
I am considered an odd duck in our family because:
a.) I have never gotten the humor of Monty Python so I don't like Monty Python (a familial blasphemy apparently)Although I think it's a moot point to me, the conversation was riveting as Danielle has such an expressive face and tends to be wonderfully passionate in defense of anything that means anything to her. Her father on the other hand, has the straight man's face down pat. That, and the fact that he usually does not open his mouth unless he's pretty sure of something, which tends to make him seem like he's always right. He isn't always right (he's male, after all), but sometimes it just looks like he is.
b.) I have no idea what a comedy sketch film IS (and not really interested in finding out) as I get my comedy on a daily basis from my family and am ok with this.
c.) I tend to save all my sallies for family book critiques which get pretty in depth and I am always considered on the wrong side of the debate. Danielle tends to win these more often than the rest of us.
At this point, Erin abandons us because homework is less embarrassing than subject matter and the deliverability talents of the members of our family. (In other words, it's not necessarily what is said so much as to how it is inclined to be delivered)
First Case in point:
Husband: "My Mother was the most cleverest person I've ever known." (True fact. She was the the most amazingly cleverest person I've ever known. I still really miss her.)
Husband: "If I were stranded on a desert island, I would want my Mother to be with me. Her or Dora the Explorer."
Rachel: "Dora the Explorer?"
Husband, (who has been waiting for Rachel to ask): "Yeah. That bitch had everything in her backpack!" [thankfully my husband doesn't normally talk like this, so I said nothing]
Rachel: "Dora the Explorer?"
Husband: "Well, go watch her sometime and see what she takes out that thing!"
At this point I walk away.
Second case in point:
Some months ago, my husband took the kids to Chilli's one night after our family meeting (Euphemistically speaking, our family therapy sessions. Some of the kids do not even live at home but we always try to make time for our family meeting and then go out to eat after it. Hey, we don't mess with what seems to work.)
I was sick at the time and so I was at home in bed and was not there to... mediate, shall we say, the conversation in this public restaurant. I was not even aware of this incident until I suggested we go to Chilli's one night after our gathering and was met with some red faces, stammering and then finally,
Rachel: "We can't ever go back there."
I should not have been surprised, but I was.
Me: "You guys got kicked out of Chilli's?"
Husband: "Ummm, not exactly."
Me: "Not exactly?"
Now I knew it was bad, "Just what did you do to not exactly get kicked out of Chilli's?"
Husband, "We didn't get kicked out of Chilli's...... exactly.... We chose to leave."
Me: "You chose to leave. Huh."
Nobody wanted to give any further information. There was a lot of red faces, general mumbling and embarrassed coughs. Now I really had wanted to know what they'd done because my mind can imagine an awful lot when it comes to the ability of my family to get into trouble, but at this point I realized I wasn't going to get much more out of any of them, which told me exactly how disappointed in them all I should be, husband included. Husband especially.
I never did get the entire story out of any of them, but as near as I can figure it, my wonderfully warm and friendly family sat in a booth, surrounded by other patrons, including a family right behind them. Conversation slipped it's leash in this public setting and they were loudly obnoxious, laughing about something in which every member of my family (husband included) had an opinion about and just had to voice one-upmanship as if they were at home around our own dinner table. (My husband was right... we are raising social hyenas)
It sounded as if this show of wit (witlessness) apparently lasted a while and new depths of how low my family's conversation can get (they get this from their Father) were apparently achieved. Anyway, at some point they must have realized how loud they were and noticed the attention they were garnering (I can just picture the slack jaws and horrified expressions of the other diners). I guess by this time, they could tell that the poor unlucky family sitting behind them was very uncomfortable. My husband at least had the grace to look embarrassed and ashamed for allowing things to get that far as he told me this. He told me realization dawned somewhere around this time and they decided they should leave as fast as the bill was paid. Then they all agreed to never go back. (I'm sure the other diners and wait-staff would be happy to know this.)
I write about this now because when the subject somehow came up at dinner Sunday night, Danielle finally said, "The only thing I can remember about that conversation now was that we were debating that some name sounded like it should belong to a stripper."
I've decided that I really don't want to know anymore. I've also decided that my family is banned from dining at any restaurant unless I am with them. Let's see, all of the kids with the exception of the youngest who is a young adult, are all 18 years old or older and they are all grounded until further notice.
I thought kids (and husband) were all supposed to grow up. You know? Become a responsible adult like their father... ok, well I can see where the logic in that thought process went wrong... (Just for the record, I'm only joking about my husband. He is usually the voice of reason outside of the house with me coming up with the bird-brained ideas)
To be fair, after this experience I think (hope) they will all think twice about where they are and what kind of audience they have. I don't have to worry that it will happen again after all the red faces and the refusals to talk about it. They looked truly repentant. They had been horrid. There is no doubt in my mind. Still, this will go down in our family history as a humorous dud that was not repeated. (Or else!)