I have to write about that party last night. It had a theme. It was basically a 1991 reunion party. Fran and Roger were married 25 years ago so their friends that attended the wedding tried to recreate their wedding. People came dressed in baggy, bright colors, dressed as icons from the 90’s, they were playing Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, Paula Abdul, Boyz II Men, Madonna, it was a blast, really.
And my parents were feeling the 90’s vibe. They were drinking. Heavily. My guess was that Fran and Roger’s wedding was something of an epic event.
My grandmother showed up, some great aunts and uncles, lots of second cousins. The party was at the American Legion hall, which I thought was very nice.
But, I did get cornered by many relatives and had to tell my recent life history a dozen times.
“Are you still dating the same guy?”
“No, we broke up.”
“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay, it was for the best.”
“Are you still in school?”
“No, I graduated. I’m teaching now.”
“Oh, congratulations! Where at?”
“A school downtown. 2nd grade.”
“And do you like it?”
“I love it, it’s great.”
I don’t love it. It’s not great. And I never know what to ask these people that talk to me. Do I ask them how their jobs are going? Is that weird? I don’t care how their jobs are going. Wouldn’t it be rude to pretend? I barely know these people.
Anyway, thankfully there was A LOT of alcohol. I slept at my parent’s place last night (that’s weird to say, too!)
My mom and I had a good talk this morning. She reassured me that every career starts out shaky and that it’ll probably be a couple of years before I can handle the stresses.
She also talked about how she wants me to keep in touch with Daryl, my step-brother. She says that he won’t listen to her and Lou about things and that maybe I can talk to him. Apparently Daryl has fallen in with “the wrong crowd” and was caught with marijuana at school. I told you he was a fucking idiot. But I couldn’t refuse the good gossip.
This is how stupid he is. A teacher asks him for his pass for being late to class and he when he takes all the crap out of his pocket to find the pass he pulls out a joint. Right in front of the teacher.
I gave him my step-sisterly advice and told him that if he doesn’t get his shit together he’ll never get a job and be able to live on his own. His reply was something like, “Fuck that. Jobs are stupid.”
Meh. He has a point.