Tisiphone
Elitist Redheaded Trollop
When I got a speeding ticket barely two hours away from my house. Fucker clocked me doing 81 in a 65, and said anything over 80 is reckless.
HELLO?????? YOU GET ME FOR DOING ONE FUCKING MILE OVER WHAT YOU CONSIDER RECKLESS?!?!? COCKSUCKER!
Anyways...after a thirteen hour drive from DC to Tunica, I was in a loopy state of mind, and do I even get a hello from my parents, who are waiting in the parking lot of the Gold Strike Casino & Hotel for me? No. Instead I get this, from my dad:
"Slow your ass down driving through the damned parking lot!"
I should have just turned around and went back home.
My mother squeezes the life out of me since she hasn't seen "Her baby" since December, while dad is doing the "Dad" thing and inspecting my car, commenting on how dirty the inside of it is, and I should take better care of it.
Then, as we are having our mini-reunion in the parking lot, mom's cell phone rings, and it's my sister, calling to tell us how her husband, my brother-in-law, has just gotten a speeding ticket because he was about to shit on himself and trying to get home.
Did the officer have any sympathy for him? A hell to the no.
Dad rolls his eyes, since just days before they left, my sister Kelly also got pulled over for running a red light, but she didn't get a ticket. Lucky bitch. See, my dad drives like a damned gomer, and it takes him ten minutes to make a turn. So anything above 20 is considered too fast.
So, we get checked in, and Dad still has to keep commenting on my driving. I don't even tell him that I didn't have my registration on me, so I got another ticket for that. I don't want to kill the man.
In order to understand why my vacation was both exciting and exhausting, one has to understand my parents, especially my mother.
The matriarch of all things dramatic, we have barely checked in before she is literally shivering, because she thinks the casino is sooooooooo cold. Granted, it was cool, but not hypothermia-inducing cold, as she was acting. This is the same woman who shows me pictures of myself from 10 years ago and wants to know whatever happened to her beautiful daughter. Sure, I could stand to lost about fifteen pounds, but I haven't so drastically changed in 10 years that I'm unrecognizable. You all have seen my picture. I'm not some fucking whale.
Okay, so dad heads over to the black jack tables. Now, my dad, while a hardass, is a very fun, easygoing guy. Which is why he has a tendency to get asked to leave the tables if he's losing because he gets a bit loud and boisterous. Not mean or anything, but just cussing up a storm, especially if he's been drinking.
Meanwhile, my mother has decided to order two...that's right...TWO FUCKING CUPS OF COFFEE from the cocktail waitress while sitting at a slot machine because she's so FUCKING COLD!! She's moved beyond shivering to actually having her teeth chatter.
And slowly, slowly, I start to remember what it was like living with my parents, and how sometimes a lot of space between you and them can be a good thing.
Did I have any one-night stands? I'm not telling, but I'll say this...the bed was big enough to hold at least five people.
Did I win any money? Fuck no. Those slot machines were tighter than a virgin's pussy.
Did I get into any fights? Just one, but it was only a verbal spar.
Are there any pictures to share?
They've already been burned.
HELLO?????? YOU GET ME FOR DOING ONE FUCKING MILE OVER WHAT YOU CONSIDER RECKLESS?!?!? COCKSUCKER!
Anyways...after a thirteen hour drive from DC to Tunica, I was in a loopy state of mind, and do I even get a hello from my parents, who are waiting in the parking lot of the Gold Strike Casino & Hotel for me? No. Instead I get this, from my dad:
"Slow your ass down driving through the damned parking lot!"
I should have just turned around and went back home.
My mother squeezes the life out of me since she hasn't seen "Her baby" since December, while dad is doing the "Dad" thing and inspecting my car, commenting on how dirty the inside of it is, and I should take better care of it.
Then, as we are having our mini-reunion in the parking lot, mom's cell phone rings, and it's my sister, calling to tell us how her husband, my brother-in-law, has just gotten a speeding ticket because he was about to shit on himself and trying to get home.
Did the officer have any sympathy for him? A hell to the no.
Dad rolls his eyes, since just days before they left, my sister Kelly also got pulled over for running a red light, but she didn't get a ticket. Lucky bitch. See, my dad drives like a damned gomer, and it takes him ten minutes to make a turn. So anything above 20 is considered too fast.
So, we get checked in, and Dad still has to keep commenting on my driving. I don't even tell him that I didn't have my registration on me, so I got another ticket for that. I don't want to kill the man.
In order to understand why my vacation was both exciting and exhausting, one has to understand my parents, especially my mother.
The matriarch of all things dramatic, we have barely checked in before she is literally shivering, because she thinks the casino is sooooooooo cold. Granted, it was cool, but not hypothermia-inducing cold, as she was acting. This is the same woman who shows me pictures of myself from 10 years ago and wants to know whatever happened to her beautiful daughter. Sure, I could stand to lost about fifteen pounds, but I haven't so drastically changed in 10 years that I'm unrecognizable. You all have seen my picture. I'm not some fucking whale.
Okay, so dad heads over to the black jack tables. Now, my dad, while a hardass, is a very fun, easygoing guy. Which is why he has a tendency to get asked to leave the tables if he's losing because he gets a bit loud and boisterous. Not mean or anything, but just cussing up a storm, especially if he's been drinking.
Meanwhile, my mother has decided to order two...that's right...TWO FUCKING CUPS OF COFFEE from the cocktail waitress while sitting at a slot machine because she's so FUCKING COLD!! She's moved beyond shivering to actually having her teeth chatter.
And slowly, slowly, I start to remember what it was like living with my parents, and how sometimes a lot of space between you and them can be a good thing.
Did I have any one-night stands? I'm not telling, but I'll say this...the bed was big enough to hold at least five people.
Did I win any money? Fuck no. Those slot machines were tighter than a virgin's pussy.
Did I get into any fights? Just one, but it was only a verbal spar.
Are there any pictures to share?
They've already been burned.
