Meet the Parents

So my dad is not quite a retired CIA psycho running background checks on all my potential beaus. But if you came face to face with this:

...would you run?

Ahhh, poor dad. He's so cute. Always posing for the photos. I figure I have a lifetime of getting him back on film since he was the budding weekend photog during my gawky teenage years and OHMYGOD there are so many exceptionally unflattering photos of me roaming about that he simply would NOT delete (or, in the old days, rip up and burn the negatives) because would you look at that lighting!? And oooh the composition is so artistic!

-making a gagging face-

Come to think of it, I'm sure dad has some photos where I was making that very same face.

Anyway, the parents were down for a brief visit this weekend (before jetting off on their transatlantic cruise to -- hello! Spain and Italy -- good God, how I despise them! And by despise I mean feel insanely jealous of their international travel lifestyle and wish desperately that I was still little and could tag along. So there were two options -- miss out on seeing Chulo this weekend, or drop him immediately into the boiling oil that is my family.

Boiling oil it is!

And he did smashingly well. They like him... I didn't even have to ask. I'll let dad ruminate for a while since he's at sea, but we'll be seeing them again in a couple of weeks (flying up to spend the weekend with the parents in very serene setting in upstate NY, before heading south --as in to hades-- for the wedding) and I will question him then... see what he thinks. He's the kind of person though, that you can always see it in his face even if his mouth is saying something else. And when we dropped them off at the port and he shook Chulo's hand and said it was good to meet him... yeah, he meant it.

The guy is just so kind and sweet and respectful. I know I use that word a lot when describing him but it's one of his prime characteristics. I guess it's been a while (or maybe ever) since I've been with someone who was raised with the same values as I was.

No question that Mom likes him. She said you can tell immediately that he'll be a good father. That made me smile and I'm still smiling thinking about her saying it, with absolutely no prompting from me.

It really does matter to me if my friends and family like the person I'm with. Because I figure if they don't, then there may be something about him that I am missing whilst gazing lovingly through my rose-coloured glasses. Of course there's always something, but the little things I can pick up on my own, and then decide if I'm willing to deal with them or not. And what I'll deal with is not always reasonable... Like I will (or, mejor dicho, I have in the past) put up with selfishness and inconsideration (which I suppose are two branches of the same tree) and immaturity, but I once broke up with a guy because of the pansy way he swallowed Coke. I mean I cannot even really explain the motion ... but trust me, it wasn't pleasant to watch. And of course that's not the whole reason I broke it off, but it was up there. And it kinda coloured the other things about him...so that at the end of the relationship he was just this wimpy-guzzle Coke drinker.

I know, I'm crazy.

It's late and I'm rambling for no good reason. Or for the simple reason that I'm still awake and shouldn't be. The truth is I started this post several hours ago (pre-Wallace & Gromit with pizza) and knew just the photo of dad I wanted to post but was too lazy to look for it just then so when I headed to bed I realised I'd left the computer on and decided to find the photo and finally finish my post.

How's that for commitment?

Anyway it is so very past my bedtime so I'ma scoot but just so ya know, he met the parents, he came out of it unscathed (and so did they, and for that matter, so did I), and it was general happiness all around.

Actually this evening I was thinking that this weekend was SO good that it felt like a long weekend when it wasn't.

And now all I have to do is wait for next weekend to hurry up and arrive so I can see him again. -sigh-

Why yes I AM still in my 20s, thank you!

I was peeping some old posts on Terry's blog and I found this. Just HAD to do it too!

You Are 23 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Speak Now or Forever Hold My Peace

So my sister is getting married.

And yeah, really no one is excited about it. Not even the happy couple, I don't think.

Apparently, it's wedding season. First, there was me shopping in Target the other day. I LOVE their "dollar spot" section, with all the cute seasonal stuff for a dollar? Anyway, there were all these little do-it-yourself wedding favours like frames and candles and things. AND, these cutesy little baseball caps with "Maid of Honour," "Bachelorette" and "Bridesmaid" printed on them in pretty script italic font. Then, there was Nat's post about the engagement rings... and so then I just couldn't get the whole thing out of my mind so now I've booked my flight and invited el Chulo and he booked his flight and now all there is left to do is lament.

Anyway I saw those hats in Target and I about had a breakdown in the middle of the store, because since *I* am the maid of honour, it occurred to me that *I* was supposed to have planned a bridal shower by now! So I called my mom all annoyed and freaked out and she of course thought I was overreacting because she generally dislikes these American traditions where it's really not about much of anything other than a discreet way to ask for more gifts. I mean, it's nice to get all your girlfriends together and giggle over lingerie and play the silly games but you know... I could just throw a party and giggle with my girlfriends anytime... these things are really just about cleaning out the registry list. And my sister isn't registered anyway, because she lives in NYC and her apartment is barely big enough to hold her, the shiftless fiance and the couch, let alone gravy boats and mother-of-pearl handled vegetable spoons and casual AND fine china in some ghastly pattern. So.

I decided to play it all nonchalant-like and called up Lil Sis to say "So, what are we doing about your bridal shower?" To which her response was, "What bridal shower? Isn't that just an excuse to get more gifts?" So amazingly, somehow, I got a get-out-of-throwing-a-bridal-shower-free card because my sister doesn't want one so I am relieved of my maid of honour duty on that one. I feel kind of guilty about it, but then her point is well-taken: she doesn't have loads of friends and it really is just an excuse to get more gifts anyway so why bother flying all the way up there to arrange a party that no one will attend? Sometimes (and I do mean sometimes) my sister is very reasonable and matter-of-fact about things.

Then there are the other times. Like deciding to marry The Fiance.

Okay look, he isn't a bad guy. He's quite good-looking, he's actually quite smart (though you certainly can't tell from his speech patterns), and he's a nice person. But they are just a bad couple. No one likes him (for her), no one wants them to get married... and yet, 5 years after he slipped a silver-and-amethyst ring (and make no mistake -- that thing is silver. NOT platinum) on her finger, they are due to wed. On a boat. In front of a guest list that, as I understand it, mainly consists of her bosses and other office mates.

Oh, and my father? Uber-traditional, breeding-is-everything, stiff upper lip, good Coptic boy? Well... let's put it like this. The Fiance thought he would get brownie points if he did like dad-in-law did way back when, so he took my parents out to dinner and officially asked for my sister's hand in marriage. Except dad-in-law's answer was precisely thus:

"If I say no, you're just going to do it anyway. So what's the difference?"

Niiiiice.

Actually he boycotted the wedding. Or he tried to. Thankfully Mom smacked some sense into him and this, ladies and germs, is why they are getting married on a boat, instead of in a church. Yeahhhhh, on a boat. Hey, did I mention they were getting married on a boat? Right. Because Dad's reasoning was, we have to invite every family member tracing all the way back to the time of the Sphinx, but they all live far away so they won't come and see my daughter marry a black man! Seriously? There is no end to the fuckedupiness of this wedding.

See, that's Dad's issue. He's a racist. I love him with all my heart, he is a wonderful, brilliant, generous, sensitive man and the best father a girl could ask for. And he has no objection to black people (or Asians, or little green martian men) until they want to date his daughters. Except Lil Sis? Yeah... all she dates is black men. Or I should say all she used to date, before hooking up with shiftless, no-job Fiance. She does it just to be rebellious... I think because growing up, she was always The Good Kid. -sigh-

I could go on and on about why they are not a good couple. But the main thing is, they don't challenge each other. At all. They bicker constantly but it's not that "ahh! you drive me crazy but ohmyGOD I love you anyway!" kind of bickering. There is no spark. They just exist, side by side... mainly, I think, because they're both too complacent to bother looking for happiness elsewhere, because what they have is "enough." It's like a lifetime of enablement awaits.

I love my sister, and I want her to be happy, so if this is what she wants, I will stand up beside her (on the boat) on her wedding day and hold her bouquet and smile for pictures. But I'm so sad about the gigantic step she's about to take, because I know she's doing it for all the wrong reasons.

Well. I could be wrong. Here's hoping.

Ok FINE! No more sap!

For those of you who are tired of my yak-worthy postings of giddy new-relationship sappysmoochiness, a little bit of negativity. I said I was going to steal this from Dzer and now I have! (It's only fair, he stole it too)

Jmai's LEAST Favourites:

Colour: I have an artist's eye; I love all colours. But if I had to choose a least favourite... I think I'll go with puce. It just SOUNDS ick.

Time of Day: The time the alarm clock rings. For the first time and every subsequent "snooze" ring.

Day of Week: Tuesday. Too much week left ahead of it.

Month: I think August. It's seriously hot and sticky. The kids go back to school, so good-bye simple, non-school zone commuting! And it's smack in the middle of hurricane season (for which I am, once again, completely unprepared. Not a battery to be found in this house, let alone a store of bottled water or a portable radio)

Holiday: Columbus Day. The market doesn't close for it but those damn feds are off which just reminds me that I am NOT doing my dream job (staff attorney at the SEC, for those of you who didn't know), and it's in October, which is such a lovely month for taking time off.

Food: I've never eaten it, but I think steak and kidney pie is probably even grosser than sashimi. I could at least see trying some fresh tuna sashimi at some point down the line... but kidney pie? Eww.

Movie Genre: Westerns. Can't understand a single word they're saying, plus there's too much blood and the costumes are boring.

Actor: Russell Crowe. He's so annoying. What IS that bobo-faced stare he's always doing anyway??

Actress: Melanie Griffiths. Why anyone ever gave this woman a job doing ANYTHING besides cocktail waitressing is beyond me.

Film: I have a really bad memory for books and films, so it's hard for me to think of a least favourite film since, if I didn't like it, chances are I got up, walked off, and immediately forgot that the thing existed. But I guess in recent months I've tried watching Donnie Darko and Boys Don't Cry, and found myself completely unable to sit through either.

TV Program: News. I know it's ignorant of me, but I just don't like watching the news. Especially local news, what a waste.

Sport: I want to say cricket just to annoy Ian, but the truth is I think their little white outfits are so cute! Ummm... I'll go with baseball. It's just so damn boring, I don't have the patience for it.

Animal: Snakes, spiders, roaches, etc. All those of the icky ilk.

Character Trait: I'm so catty. I know it's a defense mechanism but man, sometimes I am just not a nice person.

Body Part: Underarms. What is the purpose??

Piece of Clothing: UGH those newish shrug things that tie just under the boobs. Who thought this was a good idea? WHO? It just looks sloppy.

Music: New Age. Makes me feel like I'm living in a sci-fi film.

Game: Any one I don't know how to play. But generally speaking, I love games.

State to Drive Through: Uhhhh, well Florida is a realllllly long state, so I don't do too much driving outside the state. But I guess there was that one time when we drove from NY down to Orlando, and when we stopped for the night in S. Carolina, I made my boyfriend at the time stay in the car so the night manager wouldn't see him (he was Puerto Rican), and park it sideways so the guy wouldn't see the NY license plate. Then I went in and faked a southern accent when I asked for a room for the night. I'm not sure if all that was necessary but just the idea that I felt it might be ... well, that's unfortunate.

Sound: Someone coughing up a loogie. (or however you spell that. ew.)

Now... I think I will tag some someones so that no one else has to steal... but I swear I won't be offended if you don't do it. So how about... Nat and Terry!

Bummed...well not really

Aww man, I can't believe this weekend had to come to an end. Even worse than the weekend ending? I miss him. He's been gone less than 3 hours, and I miss him. Oh, this is going to be bad.

But we had a truly fantastic weekend. And I mean Fan. Tas. Tic. Also, Just to be a bitch and rub it in with excruciating detail, a timeline:

(warning! as I'm typing this out, I'm noticing that it's getting kinda long. You might want to just skip the text and look at the pretty photos)

Friday 2pm: Dash out of work. YAY! Key West!

Friday 2:12pm: Traffic. Fuck meeeeeeeee!!

Friday 2:45pm: Finally make it to Fort Lauderdale Airport. Get a huge bear hug and many kisses from el Chulo (ps, will no longer be calling him CBG. Chulo is my little cutesy makeyawannapuke name for him. His for me? Angel. Awwwwww.)

Friday 6:35pm: Arrive in Key West, at the incredibly cute bed & breakfast that is to be our little romantic hideaway for 3 days. Looky how pretty:

Friday 7:32pm: We leave the room, showered and refreshed, in search of one of those famous Key West sunsets. Scratch that. We leave the room in search of the sunset but neglect to bring a map, or even consider that we may need a map.

Friday 7:40pm: We are lost. We discover that ...huh! We are not magically going to be transported to the pretty sunset viewing spot, note that darkness is quickly descending upon the island and realise that we have just missed our first Key West sunset.

Friday 8:40pm: After walking the entire length of Duval Street in search of the elusive Mallory Square (and finally finding it, long after the last smudges of sun-kissed colour have dissipated and the place has been deserted), we head back up the way we came and finally settle on a teensy Mexican place for dinner that looked like a hole in the wall but actually had a lovely garden out back. And killer guacamole salad.

Friday 10pm: None of your damn business.

Saturday 8am: Wake up, sit down to breakfast on the lovely little veranda in front of the B&B.

Saturday 9:45am: Rediscover Duval Street (yes, the entire length of it again) in the daylight. Stop in random little shops along the way for browsing or else simply to get out of the heat and humidity. Pop into the Ron Jon store to buy a new t-shirt (Chulo) and flipflops (me).

Saturday 1pm: Toast with pina coladas at a little outdoor bar after all that shopping and walking. Also, there do not appear to be any open container laws in Key West. Woohoo!

Saturday 2pm: None of your damn business.

Saturday 5:30pm: Change outfits 3 times before finally heading out for the gourmet sunset dinner cruise that Chulo booked. Finally I called the boat to see what the dress code is. She tells me "nice casual." I put on a red blouse and linen pants, with dressy sandals, and insist that Chulo wear long pants even though it's 90 degrees out.

Saturday 6:15pm: Discover that "nice casual" means cotton capris and a tank top. We are the best dressed (and the youngest) couple on this boat. I should have known... I mean, I know it's gourmet and all, but it's still Key West!

Saturday 7pm: Even though the fish sounds unbelievable (medium-rare tuna dusted with porcini mushrooms in a key lime glaze -- oh, and by the way, that tuna was swimming around all fancy-free at noon), I order the steak, so that Chulo and I can share dishes (he got the chicken) because he doesn't eat fish. Am I a nice girlfriend or what??

-giggle- I said girlfriend!

Saturday 7:35pm:

Saturday 7:46pm:

(Did I not say fantastic?!)

Saturday 8:15pm: Chocolate chip cheesecake mouthgasm with raspberry coulis.

Saturday 10pm: None of your damn business.

Sunday 7:45am: Very, very grudgingly acknowledge the alarm going off and wake up to get ready for MY treat to him -- a day snorkeling. We took a sailboat charter that might as well have been a private charter as there were a whopping NINE of us (11 if you count Captain and First Mate) on the boat. It was Chulo's first snorkeling trip. He took on the challenge like a champ (even if he did kick his flippers all wrong! He still had a great time).

Sunday 11:45am: I see a nurse shark and FREAK THE FUCK OUT. Remember Finding Nemo when all the little crill say "swim away! swim away!" Yeahhh. I think of Nat and giggle, then choke on a little salt water for my sin.

Sunday 3:15pm: Back on dry land. Head back to the hotel room for a cool shower as we are both a bit crispy from the sun.

Sunday 3:40pm: None of your damn business.

Sunday 7pm: Head out to Mallory Square for the sunset celebration, this time armed with a map and proper directions.

Sunday 7:47pm: We finally get it right. See for yourselves:

Sunday 8:30pm: Have a leisurely outdoor dinner at a Cuban place just off Mallory Square. Marvel at how we seem to have gotten the only non-Spanish-speaking waiter in the whole place. Not only that, but he is the worst waiter EVER.

Sunday 10pm: Lament the imminent conclusion of our weekend. Cuddle up for a bit and fall asleep, completely exhausted from the combination of an action-packed day preceded by almost no sleep at all the night before.

Monday 10am: Pack it up, check out of our romantic little lovenest, and start the long drive back to civilisation.

The rest isn't really interesting enough to make the Teabag Timeline. But I will leave you with a visual of the happy couple: