You can always go home; you just may not want to

I am sitting in the bar at Wolfgang Puck’s, waiting for my step dad to land and mom to pick us up on the way to the funeral home. I just got the call I’ve been waiting for and now know to stay put until one finds me and we go to meet the other (oops—he just called one terminal away so I will type fast).

When I said where I was, mom was all, great, you’ll be drunk before the wake, and I was all, not the way you drive, and she was all, look up the funeral home address so we can put it into the GPS, and I was all because you don’t know your way around, and she was all, we get to stay at Aunt’s L’s tonight which is good for you because you were going to be sleeping on the floor in my apartment in Gary, IN, and I was all yippee because you know how I hate Gary, and she was all okay I’m hanging up now, and I was all okay, screw you too!
God, I love coming home.

0 thoughts on “You can always go home; you just may not want to

  1. Ben

    Crap, I never go to a wake Sober.  Especially if it’s a family event!  Hell, that calls for the crack pipe…

    Also, have you seen “The Family Stone?”  I haven’t laughed that hard since Spongebob ripped his pants.