Saturday was my dad’s birthday and Saturday night was his party. We do the same thing every year to celebrate– all of his favorite people come to our house and we eat chili cheese dogs and jamoca almond fudge ice cream. It is, quite literally, his favorite day of the year. Only downside of the whole situation is the fact that, in recent years, this is the first time that I’ve seen some of my parents friends in a while– usually since last years party. And it comes with the territory of being a 21 year old with one year left in college to be asked some very repetitive questions with some very repetitive answers.
“Yes, this is my last year!”
“I know! I feel like I just started”
“It was a good experience, but I’m really happy to be back home.”
“New York city is super hot.”
“I have no clue what I want to do; I’m just going to try and get some sort of job and go from there.”
“Savannah really is such a beautiful city.”
“Yes, Vera Wang is crazy.”
“Just a few more weeks– we start on September 16th.”
But, I don’t mind answering those questions. You know why? Because I’m the Queen of Small Talk. When I was a kid, my mom was a stickler about “playing tennis in conversation.” You’re talking to someone and they hit the ball to you. You hit it back. Your skill levels of tennis may vary, but you always have to at least try to swing at it. I was trained in the art of bourgeoisie salon lyfe since I could talk.
When Kaitlin and I were kids though, sometimes we’d get bored and we’d mix up the game by throwing back answers that they didn’t see coming. Usually complete lies. But sometimes, they weren’t lies at all, but just brutally honest, small-talk-with-your-parents-friends-innapropriate answers.
This weekend, Kaitlin was out of town in Seattle apartment hunting (!!!) and missed the party. But throughout the night of small talk, I wished she was there so we could have laughed secretly when one of my dad’s golf buddies asked me how my day was going and I answered that I had “mad cramps.” The look on his face.
An old friend of my parents who is the kind of person who you never really feel like is listening to you when you talk asked me what my plans were after college and I had a feeling he was zoning out so I said that I was going to try my hand at making it in the WNBA to which he replied “College really is an exciting time.”
Speaking of plans for after college, let me just state right now that the plans are these: slowly deteriorate as a human and blame it on the economy.
I’m not too happy with that plan so I’m still working on a plan B, but for now, that’s what I got. I don’t have a Plan C either, but I do have a Plan D: Run away and build a cabin the woods. These guys made it look real easy. I’ll keep you posted though.