When It Happens to Other People, Sure

Tonight I had dinner with my father, my stepmother, and my too younger half-brothers. It was the littler one's 14th birthday. We ate at a fancy Italian restaurant and I finally got to have real veal and I even tried a bite of ostrich, which was awesome because I imagine you slaughter ostriches by burying some bear traps in sand and then chasing them around the yard with a stick, yelling and screaming all the way.

Anyway, the birthday boy complained that he hardly ever can contact me because he had to switch AIM accounts and he stopped receiving updates from me on Facebook. I kindly informed him that this was because I defriended his punk ass because I didn't want my family reading and commenting on all the crass and hateful shit I post (usually about them).

Our father found this very amusing, I mean laugh heartily with a full belly hilarious.

That was of course until I said, "Oh yeah and you," and his grin dropped like acid at a Phish concert. Shocked, wounded, limping, he asked how I could do such a thing and I again replied that I defriended all but a few family members and that it is highly inappropriate for a parent to Facebook friend their children anyway, though he did not enjoy this. I must, however, point out that my stepmother, who usually hates me and everything about me with a gusto exclusively reserved for racist Southern folk in social progress nominees for Best Picture of the Year, thought this was the funniest thing to happen all night, and keep in mind she had already (jokingly) threatened to "fucking kill" me if I corrupted her little boy with cheerleaders like the birthday card I gave him suggested. [Side note: the cheerleaders were male, in leather and that was not just "kill" but "fucking kill" which we all know hurts way more.]

Yes, you know you slayed the audience when the person who hates you is laughing her ass off and the last thing your father says to you as you drive off in the dark and rain is "Yeah, fuck you, buddy."

Awesome.