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Saturday, December 15, 2007

Cultural Wasteland

First of all, I'm so glad to hear there are others with the freakishly long torso. Mine? Totally my dad's fault. I feel kind of guilty for possibly passing my three inch long legs and forty inch arms onto someone else. But The Targo? He's pretty proportional, so it may all work out.

We received a call from my father-in-law a few weeks ago.

FIL: "[The Targo], what are you guys doing on 12/16?"

The Targo: "Um, I have no clue. Why?"

FIL: "I just bought you tickets to The Nutcracker. It's a big family thing. We'll pick you up and drive together."

The Targo: "Um, no that's okay. Just save your money. If you want to get us something, you can buy us a stroller."

FIL: "We're going out to dinner afterward. [Cousin #1] and [Cousin #2] are driving in with their kids."

The Targo: "No really. That's okay."

The Targo tried to sweetly let his dad down for a few minutes. I was honestly surprised he didn't say "WHY THE HELL WOULD I GO TO THE BALLET? I'M JUST AN AVERAGE DUDE! I LIKE SPORTS AND DRINKING BEER!!!" The Targo's dad asked to talk to me.

FIL: "Marianne, I can't believe he doesn't want to take you to the ballet!"

Me: "Oh. Hmm... You know... I do wish you guys would just save your money. You don't need to spend anything on us." Hemming. Hawing. "Truthfully, I'm just not that into ballet. I love theater and musicals, but ballet isn't my thing."

FIL: "Really? Well, we'll see you that Sunday."

I hung up. The Targo and I looked at each other for a minute and then began talking at the same time.

Me: "I can't say no to your dad!"

The Targo: "Do you think we could just forget?"

Me: "No. But if there's a bar, we could just repeatedly sneak out to watch football."

I don't know why we don't want to go. I think part of it is that we're both homebodies right now. But also, the big family affair? These are all of the same people we'll see at Christmas. So, eh... maybe I will just hang out at the bar.

Go JETS! Squash the Pats!


Becca said...

I know exactly how you feel! There were times during the end of the pregnancy when someone could have offered to take me to the Bahamas for a week and I'd have said "Pass!"

L Sass said...

Three words--bring a flask. It can't possibly hurt the baby at this point, right?