Ok, since I haven't really typed up anything since my first night in Reno, time to catch everyone on the rest of the trip, and some postscript about that first day/night. Here goes:
Day 1
I already mentioned the strip club, but I need to give a little back story. My Aunt doesn't like the kid's girlfriend. Ever have someone tell you they don't like someone else, then you meet that someone else, and you can't figure out what the first person doesn't like about that someone else? But because you trust that first person's opinion, you are supposed to not like that someone else, too? (I know, welcome to Junior freakin' High). I realize that for probably every mom out there, no one will be good enough for her son. Likewise for fathers and daughters. I'm not here to question the way that rule seems to go, as there are numerous exceptions, but I have been in a few living rooms, and I can easily impress anyone's Mother-I eat everything on my plate, even Tofu Surprise. All I ever had to do was eat and say it tasted good, I was all good with the Moms of the world. Dads on the other hand, well, they've been a guy before, courting a woman, so they know what this whole show is about. Most are probably wondering if they needed to show me their enormous gun collection (one did, hilarious on the inside, acted terrified on the outside-I had my own parents to contend with at the time).
So I met the kid's girlfriend, and I could only come up with one word-"mousey". Can't really describe her. She seemed nice, could hold a conversation, polite--I could not for the life of me figured out why my Aunt has this woman painted as the Life Sucking Vampire she was portrayed once I landed at the lovely Reno/Tahoe airport.
Then the strip club happened, and I started to see some things. Look, a woman getting a lap dance, I've seen this show, doesn't do a whole bunch for me. But again, the girlfriend seemed perfectly fine to talk to. I learned she has two jobs, a bank teller and an apprentice piercer at a tattoo shop. Interesting as well, because when I met her earlier in the afternoon her piercings were 'hidden'. Once at the boobiebar, however, was this horseshoe sticking out of her nose. Not so that she looked like a bull, but the other way, with the middle of the horseshoe going thru her nose. Not really that attractive. I don't care about a pierced tongue. The multiple earrings, doesn't bother me a bit, either. The piercing in the back of her neck, well now that just seems odd. I didn't see the others, but was told their was a nipple piercing and 3 piercings in her ribcage. Uh, okay. She noticed the holes in my ears and wondered if I had them just taken out. Sorry, it's been about 6 or 7 years. At least.
Now, before I go any further, I didn't realize something until Day 4. I thought the girlfriend was perfectly nice, but she seemed a little off, but couldn't peg it right away, which we all like to think we're good at.
Hanging out at a casino and then a strip club with 3 21 year olds, a 26 year old and myself was fun, but I've done this before. A stripper trying to get money out of me isn't new either (well, not new in the sense that that's what they do, I haven't been to a strip club in couple of years, I don't get the point-some woman is going to get half-naked in front me and I can do nothing about it, gee sign me up).
I was dropped off a little after 2 AM and by the time I washed my face (gotta get 'the plane' off you) and brushed my teeth, the last time I saw before my head hit my air mattress was 2:28.
Day 2
Day 2 kicked off with a workout by Manny Pacquiao hitting the speedbag. Oh, I'm sorry, it was a freaking cat hitting someone's bedroom door to get out. She was staying in Gramma's room but the litter was in a different room...genious!!! So I was up at 5:30. Coffee was brewed since there are those that are up at 4:30. Why? Because they're old!!! I swear, after this 4 day adventure I'm putting 'Conflict Resolution Manager' on my resume. There should have been a dead cat, because the speedbag thing happened like 4 times, so every time I was falling back into a nice sleep a rapid fire of cat punches to the door would blast out. Fantastic.
I grabbed a cup of coffee and made a minor announcement that we either sign the cat up for a boxing match or fry it for dinner, ChinaTown-style.
Anyway, we had to head out the door for the kid's award ceremony. No, not the graduation. He was receiving an award for being a 'Who's Who' (didn't that crap start when you were a senior in high school and go away?). Awards were handed out to numerous people, I think I was up for a 'Reach for the Stars' literary achievement potted plant award, but I had to step outside and get air. There is nothing more annoying to me than Liberal Arts, I look at that as a 4 year class on reading someone else's thoughts. How do you judge originality? I have no idea, but if you could make a mean clay pot, you were getting an award. The beginning 90% of this ceremony was decent, but then the Outdoor Activities professor laureate went on some diatribe, and the kid showed up late (but in time to get his award, which he thought was lame), and the only saving grace was that the kid wreaked of whiskey and stripper, to which I whispered to him "I can't tell if you smell like Cinnamon or Autumn". He asked me if I thought he was wearing cologne or had cooked breakfast, to which I shot him a look and mouthed 'Stripper, dummy'. His eyes got all big, and I told him not to worry about it, with all the old people there the chance of his smell overpowering any doting grandmother in the audience's cheapass $4/gallon Walgreen's perfume was minimal at best.
This would also be the time to announce a new game to play when you're out and about, website to be built by the kid and run by myself and another friend. The game, dear reader, is called 'Explain Ya Outfit'. You know exactly who I'm talking about. Things that don't fit, don't fit a body style, are so out of bounds they are past bordering on ridiculous looking. The kid sitting in front of me, wore a grey cardigan, pink shirt, pink and blue shorts, black socks and black shoes. Seriously, Explain Ya Outfit. I will make sure to give the history of this game at another time.
I wanted to watch the damn Bruins game, was ushered into a room without a cable box (everyone else was congregated in the living room with the HDTV, not on, but reading...go to the fucking library, people-I have a game 7 to watch!), and proceeded to figure out how much time was appropriate to wait before I got out of that room and back into the living room. At least I had my cell phone to relay that it was 3-0 B's. Once I got out of that room, I was overruled. No TV was getting watched. It felt like a damn monastery. Not my house, and I deferred to the eldest statesman, Stan, Gramma's 'Companion', who's from Canada-no dice. WTF??? I thought if there was a hockey game on a Canucker was watching that thing like an Irishman to booze, a skank to a celebrity, Michael Jackson to a sick boy-you get the point. No hockey. Putting a frown face in this blog right now wouldn't do how sad I was....because the phone told me it was 3-1...then 3-2...then tied (did the Bruins come out to play in the 2nd period?-things that only watching the damn game would've let me know, but no, I had to be in the retirement home library. FML was the only thing going thru my head.) At least I had my buddy Jay updating me during the 3rd period, thank God for text messaging. And then I got the text that made me not-so-happy:
"Philly pp goal on a too many on ice penalty. 708 left in 3rd."
They can do this.
No they can't....dammit! Screw it, I'm keeping the beard!!!!!
Not much else happened on Day 2 (at least that I can remember), other than dinner was interesting, I helped in the kitchen, I made people laugh (try not to be surprised).
Day 3
Graduation Day. Time to coordinate 10 people into 2 showers and then 2 cars for a 30 minute drive to get breakfast and a good parking space and good seats (hell, just seats). I'm up at 5:45 and get told that including me there are 3 more showers to go, and I can go last if I want (YES Please!). I like going last because it means I know it's on me. I hate waiting. Once I'm showered it's time to go. I swear I'm so much like my Pops sometimes it's scary. This would be one of those scary times. Well, once I'm ready to go, we're out the door. And off to the Hyatt in Incline Village, NV...rooms starting at $350/night, hooker not included. That's not even a top floor room with a view of Lake Tahoe. So breakfast was damn impressive.
The underlying theme to this whole trip was watching my Uncle try and organize things while my Aunt was either out of the house, in the bathroom, in the kitchen or in the shower. He should've quit while he was ahead, every time. He's not The General, as we affectionately call my Aunt, he's merely a Colonel-at best. Every time he tried to do something, it was the opposite of how The General had laid out the plans. High Comedy, plus high stress for almost everyone else. Not me. I told my Aunt, just point and tell me what to do, I'm doing it. And they say I don't take direction well.
A little surprise was in store, as I found out between the hotel and the campus (all 4 buildings of it) that the kid was singing the National Anthem. Cool! And yet you have no idea how cool it is until you see it.
We showed up a mere 75 minutes before graduation to gather 12-15 seats, which were lovely white chairs zip-tied together (who is stealing these things?) but also built for those of a tiny variety-for me I think immediately of the seats at Fenway Park, and how much I appreciate standing. Well, the girlfriend showed up. She decided it would be best to sit next to me, but I was in no mood to sit, since I wasn't going to be in the aisle and we had plenty of time before the festivities kicked off. She brushed against my arms a couple of times (this is important later, I swear), and then her Mom showed up. Quite a lovely woman. Well the ceremony was about to kick off, we get told to take our seats, the girlfriend asks me to pick up the program on her chair and she sat on my hand...or, she almost sat on my hand. When you realize that someone is about to put their ass on your hand, you move your hand. Damn woman looked at me like I was trying to steal dessert. Not even close. She laughed (again, this is important later), and wondered if my head was going to be okay. Head? Crap, this thing is outdoors, and while I'm in the shade of a tree at this moment, I know in 10 minutes my head is going to burn. I neglected to bring a hat. Well, the procession is starting, I can't just interrupt them for my stupidity. I'll just wait until there is a break in the action.
Time for the Anthem. I have to admit, every time I hear the Anthem, and I mean hear it, like stand at attention and listen to the words and comprehend them, I get a little choked up. Now add to it that someone who is little brother to me is up there on stage belting it out in front of 300+ people and owning it like he wrote the jingle himself, I can only tell you that I am one very proud big brother. The kid got a standing ovation!
Other people, board members or whomever, get announced. And after 20 minutes of this, my noggin is on fire. I realized I'm about 30 minutes away from a serious burn, not the type that will look pretty, but the kind that will have people asking me if I was in some type of kitchen accident. Eureka, we're all asked to stand and applaud the board members, I make a line to the back where I can stand and be in the shade. I found the kid's friend from Denver who drove up for this shindig. And since he's about as dry a wit as I am, it was a good time. The first thing we talked about was the wasting of $120K of someone's money on a Liberal Arts degree. Sorry, but couldn't you go to a state college to major in English Lit? Mind you, I say this as someone who barely graduated in his major, but did graduate with an Accounting degree. Yes, I coulda been a CPA, but it's not something I wanted. Now, after hearing a short and concise valedictorian speech and the guest speaker (the COO of Netflix, pretty cool), I figured out my theme for this weekend and probably going forward. You have to be willing to make mistakes and pick yourself up if you do. Otherwise you can learn nothing about yourself. Living in a bubble is boring as hell. I think I've done okay at this, but listening to what some of these kids are going to do, some will, and some are going for broke. Some are 'exploring career opportunities'. There were only like 50 graduates. Not exactly a huge college. But to get the COO of Netflix, someone either has to know him, pay him a huge fee, or this school has something going for it.
The funniest things the kid's friend and I heard were the Masters in Teaching thesis'. And the one that sticks out is (I'm paraphrasing) "Measuring success in sexual education in middle school curriculum". I looked at the friend and mentioned that there is no way this woman either hasn't blown an 8th grade class or soon will be on the news. And believe me, if you saw her, you'd think the same thing, too.
So many 'Explain Ya Outfit' candidates at this event that I got 4 other people to play the game, too. Look at me, helping people mock others in another state, some of those with questionable taste in fashion were from other countries..does this make me an International Asshole?
After graduation was over, pictures are taken and we get back to the house in Reno, it's time to relax. Then the kid and the girlfriend and his two buddies show up at the house, time to have some amusement and swap stories. I don't get revved up until later in the afternoon. A champagne toast by the proud parents, some cards get opened, and then I spot a note about the girlfriend. She is most definitely trying to plant a wedge between mother and son. This has the potential to get ugly, but it doesn't. But my Aunt and I caught eyes. Eyes that 24 years of knowing someone screams out certain things. My Aunt is a proud woman, very courteous, and a hell of a host. And then you notice that everywhere the kid goes, the girlfriend goes. And she hangs on him. Like a Vulture. I nicknamed her 'Stage 5'. She pinched me twice (again, wait for it, it's coming). I got my arm touched, "Do you work out?"-Now I admit I wasn't thinking anything about this stuff, not until Day 4.
The other thing I noticed was that while all of us, sans the girlfriend, had to either drive or fly to this celebration, no one got any real alone time with the kid. I knew this was a definite possibility, but only because he's got family, his Gramma is 82, his parents love him very much, and his two best friends drove up together from Denver. At dinner I gave him my piece of advice, advice or words of wisdom that I wished someone had bestowed upon me-"Do what you love, the money will come". I believe that. But back to the girlfriend, it seems that she occupied the kid's time far more than she should have, that no one, other than Gramma got a minute with the kid. I found this odd. My feelings weren't hurt, but only because I had prepped myself with the idea that this was probably going to happen.
Day 4
Since we didn't have to be up and out the door, it was all about getting a few more zzz's and relaxing. Until dinner time. The kid and the girlfriend along with the two friends showed up for dinner, the girlfriend still in her tattoo job work shirt. It's a half hour drive, couldn't you change your shirt in the car in that time? I told her 'cool design' and she immediately wants my address to send me a shirt. Quite enthusiastic, I thought to myself. "Maybe later, not that big of a deal."
She told me she didn't mind, with a guy with my 'look' it could be great advertising. In Denver? Okie-Dokie. I'm sitting on a bench out on the back patio, big enough for 3 people to cram in, definitely comfortable to for 2. The girlfriend sat nexttome. Yes, that close. Look, if it were me and my girlfriend, I would have no issue with hips touching, might even consider it endearing. But this is NOT my girlfriend, it's the girlfriend of my 'little brother'. I moved a bit to the side to give her some room. She moved with me. Something is starting to formulate in my granite-filled head. But not yet.
Time to get drinks for dinner. I get up to help (you're damn right I jumped at the opportunity) and after I drop the first wave of drinks to the unseated table, the girlfriend is in front of me. She pokes my belly. "What are you doing?", I asked. She tells me I just look so cute and thought it would be fun to poke me. No one pokes me. Seriously, I have girls whom I've known forever, no romantic under- or over- tones and they don't poke me. Let alone my belly. I'm pretty sure this is straight out of 'Flirting 101', which is why I again asked, "What are you doing?", but softly, because I don't need to cause a scene with 12 other people around us. And this, quite frankly, is fucked up. Again, things are formulating in my head (yes, wicked slow on the uptake).
Dinner is good, I toasted my Aunt the host for feeding us, entertaining us, and having us into this house that isn't hers and making it feel like a home to all of us who came to visit (yup, I'm bragging about myself), because it's the right thing to do.
After dinner, the two friends headed back to the road to Denver, while Gramma and her 'Companion' Stan retired to the living room with the TV. I headed to other living room, where my stuff and where I sleep on an air mattress to just catch my breath. Hey, making people laugh with different stories for 4 days is tiring. Well, the kid, the girlfriend, and one of my Aunt's friends and her 11 year old son followed me...apparently story time wasn't over. Being exhausted, I fell back to the ol' tried and true, my dating stories, and the horror that comes with being single and 34. Not once, by the way, did I mention a certain someone, mostly because trying to explain that to this crowd might entice me to run into oncoming traffic. The layout of the room is as such-couch, two chairs, a step down into the room, and of course, the air mattress. Honestly, one or 2 days on that thing isn't horrible, but by night 4, my back was not happy with me. The 11 yr old took a seat on the couch, his Mom on one chair. I sit on the step ledge, and the kid follows me in sitting there. Now, having laid this whole room out for you, where do you think the girlfriend sat? No, not on the chair. She decided to lay herself on my air mattress, and all the tumblers went into place----this broad is beyond flirting with me!
I couldn't tell you what else I rambled on about. All that went thru my head was if I was nuts in thinking all these things adding up, going thru the memory bank to see if there was something I missed, or maybe I'm just paranoid, or maybe I misconstrued one of those touches, pokes or pinches.
Nope. Because after the kid and the girlfriend left (with the 2 seconds too long hug by the girlfriend) I waited until Gramma and everyone else went to bed, except my Aunt, her friend and the 11 yr old. I told my Aunt that I think I know why you don't like her, and I have my own reason.
"Why?"
From the mouth of the 11 yr old, who has said maybe 14 words the whole time he's been in the house, and I quote "Because she's a slut. Sorry, Mom, I know I'm not supposed to say that stuff." This is from an 11 yr old kid with diagnosed ADD and dyslexia. If he figured it out, I'm pretty sure he's on point.
I told my Aunt about all the stuff, and her friend backed me up, stating that the girlfriend was very seductive, very Michell Pfieffer in 'The Fabulous Baker Boys' (whatever the hell that is) when she laid herself down on my air mattress. Yes, collaborating witnesses.
And then I had to break the bad news to my Aunt. She can't say a damn thing. Neither can anyone else. Why? Because if my Aunt said anything to the kid, he wouldn't believe it, he would hate me, hate his mother for telling him this stuff, and alienate himself from this family, and push more towards hanging out with the girlfriend, who is a controlling manipulative vulture. She is definitely using sex as a weapon. I also told my aunt to go back to when I first moved out to Denver, my first girlfriend, how her, my uncle and my parents couldn't stand her, for one simple reason. I wasn't me, I was the whipped half-man half Eddie Bauer catalog that she tried to fit me into. But they never said anything until she dumped me, because it was the right play. The same is true now. My Aunt apologized for the behavior of the girlfriend, because that's her way. I told her not to, I was flattered and appalled, all at the same time. And that this relationship will run its natural course, I'm making book that it ends before the end of summer, when the kid gets a job in the Bay Area or LA. Just my gut, which after being poked, is still pretty good.
Day 5 and sports in the AM!!
No comments:
Post a Comment