Putting Bollocks, Me, Bollocks, Bollocks, & 2012 aside, I’ve come to tell about the conversations I had with my relatives. It was great, really (it’s not everyday that you hear a teenage girl blabbing about how fabulous it is to talk with the oldies). I felt sort of mature around them, and I loved seeing the look on their faces whenever they get all nostalgic.
My dad left today for Australia and it’s their (mom and dad’s) anniversary tomorrow. They didn’t have time to shag and/or have a terrific date because my dad’s flight was at 4 PM so they ended up having a quick lunch at Shakey’s (quite romantic, right? NOT). But eventually my dad was able to make it up to my mom by giving her a watch that was exactly like the one he gave her 18 years ago, during their first anniversary (to be honest, I want a relationship like theirs, you know, the high school sweetheart kind of relationship).
Next in line of the blab train’s my grandparents’ oh so dramatic love story (not really). You see, my grandma’s family status was above middle-class while my grandpa’s was below it. When my grandpa courted my grandma, he had ridiculously curly hair (it was naturally curly, so I don’t blame him for his sad hairstyle), so my grandma’s dad assumed that he was a homosexual. My grandma’s brother, on the other hand, assumed that he was the wife-batterer kind of bloke. Well, he proved them wrong! Never did my grandpa even flick his fingers (maybe his trouser snake but gosh, I don’t want to picture that) at grandma and I think he’s homophobic… So back to the story, they started off as lower than below middle-class, then with fervor and hope, they became big-shots (not really dramatic as I told you since my grandma didn’t bother to tell me the hardships they went through, that would’ve been interesting).
I would love to go on and on but I am getting pretty slumberous (I feel like a smart-ass whenever I use this) and I’m sure you’re not that keen on me anyway.