My Birthday: Golf, Vodka and Robot Stirrers.
Last year my dad gave me a migraine for my birthday. Because I do not learn from the past, I gave him the opportunity to do it again this year.
For my birthday dinner, we mixed the families.
Despite the public outcry of cautionary warnings, I was fairly certain this set of parents (the dads & stepmoms) would get along swimmingly. Much like Mister Me and I (and much different than our moms) our dad’s are essentially the same person.
These two doods are both ex-insurance sales guys, love stocks and live on golf courses. Their wives have the same name and, until coached otherwise, they both wore their sandals with socks.
In fact, when I arrived at Mister Me’s so we could get on the road to my dad’s, I found his dad unshowered, with a beer in hand watching the Masters. Which, I’m positive, is exactly what my dad was doing at the time.
Then we discussed the Masters the whole drive up which was kind of a one sided conversation because no one had watched it except Mister Me’s dad. So it was more a recitation of all of the… plays?… of the day. I don’t even know the right words to use for golf.
When we arrived my dad announced he was making his “specialty” lemon drop martinis for the occasion. I’m not sure where the “specialty” descriptor comes from because the man has only two drinks: vodka and ice or vodka and no ice.
So first we exchanged gifts and I got my usual assortment of slightly bizarre last minute gifts from my parents (… which I loved… in case you’re reading). Two sets of earrings from the jewelry party my stepmom went to the night before and this contraption that is essentially a Roomba for a pot of food. Like… it stirs your pots… that are on the stove… while you’re not there? I don’t fucking know, but apparently you get two robot stirrers for the price of one and they throw in a ladel/strainer combo. Because that’s what I got for my 27th birthday.
I guess fair is fair though because all I gave my dad for his birthday was an electronic cigarette.
Then we went to dinner and the men discussed golf and the ladies discussed kids and I drank a lot of wine and everyone ordered the same thing except my dad who got the smoked salmon plate…? …and a vodka with no ice. We are more similar than I care to admit.
So basically it all went really well except for the part when my brother asked whether Mister Me and I would be making him an uncle soon and I, before realizing that was kind of a weird conversation to have with a 15-year-old in front of both sets of parents, told him that Mister Me wants kids way sooner than I do.
That produced some awkward silence.