game, set, match: burrito

[gyzym]

Saturday brunch did not happen this weekend due to [various and assorted nonsense], so we did pizza dinner tonight instead. Why I always let myself believe they'll be less ridiculous later in the day, I just don't know.

Me: Ugh, this tomato sauce is killing me, I bit the inside of my cheek this morning.
My Mother: DON'T LOOK AT IT.
Me: What?
My Mother: The place you bit, don't look at it, or if you do look at it, don't be surprised if--
Me: Why would I look at it?
My Father: Who looks at that kind of thing? Do you look at it when you bite the inside of your mouth?
My Mother: Well, yeah, I mean, I can feel it, I can't help myself.
My Father: Never look inside your mouth. What are you, crazy?
Me: Okay, well, sometimes I think there's probably a good reason to--
My Father: No, no there's not, there is never a good reason to look inside your own mouth. It's like sushi--just go with it, do not look at what's inside. Unless you're you, I guess, because you're a freak and you like octopus--
Me: Octopus is delicious!
My Father: There are suckers on it.
My Mother: She can eat octopus if she wants.
My Father: We can't go by you, you look inside your own mouth! Only dentists should go there.
Me: Your intensity about this is kind of freaking me out, just so you know.
My Father: You should listen to your father, I know what I'm talking about, and--
Burrito: *BURP*
My Father: Don't burp at the dinner table, you know better than that.
Burrito: Seriously? You guys are talking about the insides of your mouths.
My Father: ....
Me: ....
My Mother: He's kind of got us there, guys.

And then, of course, there was the continuation of the Angry Bird madness after Burrito left the table:

My Mother: So, should I download it?
Me, referring to the conversation she interrupted: ...what, turkey tacos? How would you--
My Father: No, she means the birds.
Me: Oh my god, are we still on Angry Birds?
My Mother: It's all he's been talking about all day.
My Father: I got to the second part! In only a couple of days, that's good, right?
Me: I don't know, I stopped play it when I realized how much of my time it was eating.
My Father: The yellow ones explode when you hit them!
Me: You recognize that you sound like a four year old right now.
My Father: Fuck you, it took me like an hour to figure that out.
My Mother: So, should I download it?
My Father: YES
Me: NO
My Father: DON'T LISTEN TO HER IT'S AWESOME
Me: IT'S TOO LATE FOR HIM, SAVE YOURSELF
Burrito, from the other room: YOU GUYS, STOP YELLING, I'M TRYING TO WATCH A SHOW.

In conclusion, the 11 year old is the only mature adult out of all of us, and it's not even much of a surprise. The end!

Comments

[winslow-arizona.livejournal.com]

...I look inside my own mouth all the time. It's rarely justified, except when I recently thought I had a cavity, but I don't have a little mirror so I had to use the big one.

The moral of that story is: it's impossible to be panicked about one's possible tooth problems when one is sitting on the bathroom counter trying to figure out the best angle for one's head to be at so one might see one's rearmost molars. (I don't even know if I'm talking about myself anymore, or some hypothetical anonymous person. It's possible that I've had too much sugar today.)