Spending the Day with Family

Up to the point where I got married my life was fairly boring, and I loved every second of it. I do have relatives—a few of them, anyway. Luckily, I’ve only ever met one uncle, at least since I was old enough to remember. My father’s family is a bunch of redneck hillbillies who brew and run moonshine, and my mother’s family is all dead, deadbeat, or just weird. It’s nice not to have any contact with them, and my parents never seemed to mind.

The best part of not having relatives is not having to spend any time with them. As much as I love social situations (sarcasm), I do like my own personal alone time. I can do what I want. I can sit in my underwear and play video games while I fart and swear at the Playstation for cheating me. It works great.

Then, as usual, my wife drops the bomb…we have to one of her family outings. Joy! I have to don pants and drive—usually about fifteen hours—to some place where there probably isn’t enough to eat. On the trip, Janice usually badmouths somebody who’s going to be there, or, at the very least, she explains how they disappointed the family in some way or other.

I’ll admit that I’m not particularly social, but I don’t know a single husband or wife who is totally comfortable with his/her in-laws. And, I’m sure that Janice’s family discusses just how anti-social I am. At first, I tried to be, but I ended up looking foolish. I like to pop in periodically, say something funny, and run out again.

Besides, I have a terrible time coming up with new material. And, I’m sure I’ve mentioned just how horrified I am at becoming my father. Well, as it turns out, my father has a habit of telling the story over and over and over again. I’m used to it, but people who don’t know him get a little agitated. I’m very afraid that I’m going to start doing that. So, if I stay on the outskirts of the conversation, I’m not forced to be the center of attention at any point. Therefore, I never have to tell anything personal (and, therefore, never repeat anything personal) to anyone.

I end up staring at a television or, in the case of today’s outing, I end up playing croquet to avoid looking foolish. Thus, I look like a jerk. However, and I’m sure Oscar Wilde would agree with me, that it’s so much better to be a jerk than to be boring.

Chris

(Note: Oscar Wilde is one of my favorite authors, along with F. Scott Fitzgerald. And, as usual, Janice cannot bring herself to read The Picture of Dorian Gray. Typical…)

(Another Note: I have to say that this post may be a bit choppy. That's because the TV was just broadcasting America's Most Wanted, where they were just profiling a guy named Jihad Ramadan. I actually had to stop, laugh, and make fun of that. How unoriginal is that? I think I'm going to change my name to Easter Christmas. What do you think?)