Apples Don't Fall Far From the Tree

I have to admit, I'm an odd lady.  I don't know how I came to be, but seriously I can't even understand it.

I think it all comes down to who raised me.  My parents are ridiculous.  I can't even put them in words, because words don't give them justice.

Here's the family dynamic:
Mom (Colleen): Awesome.  Amazing chef.  Typical outfit includes no bra, hair half up in pony tail and half not, sweatpants, a stained t-shirt or sweatshirt, white crew socks and Adidas sandals.  She looks like a hot mess and couldn't care less.  I did not intend to rhyme, but it happened.  Just call meh Tupac.  I love my mom so much.  I'm turning into her more and more each day, which scares the hell out of me.

Dad (John): Awesome.  I think my father is literally one of the funniest men alive.  Maybe it's because we have the same personality, but he can always make me laugh.  My dad has six or seven tattoos and used to ride a Harley at one point, but sold it to buy a backyard fence to keep us then-toddlers in line.  What a guy. His hands are as big as baseball gloves and I've never seen him lose an arm wrestling contest.  I'm also turning into my dad as each day passes.  I can't decide if I'm more afraid to become my mom or dad the most...

Sistah (Dorothy): Semi-awesome (most certainly not as cool and hip as me).  She plays volleyball and is pretty damn good at it.  She gets candy from her coach every time she hits an opponent in the face.  She loves it though, mostly because she's a little demon.  I love my sister, I really do.  BUT DEAR LORD.  When we were little tikes, she would go around terrorizing me.  I was always running from danger.

Kinda like this little chickiepoo

Because even though she was smaller than me, she could still pack one serious punch. Or bite. OR STAB. Whichever she felt like that day.

Then there's the extended family, which I can't even begin to get into.  There's just too many of them...

Honestly though, I love being away at college.  It's great to feel independent.  But here's one thing I didn't realize until I moved away: my family is kickass.  Seriously.  And I didn't know how great they are until I visited for a weekend.  You see, I think I became used to their antics while living with them because it's the norm.  But leaving for weeks or months at a time...everything became ten times funnier to watch.

Guys, it's storytime.
I think this was around February of this year.  My roommate (who grew to love my family despite the fact that my sister greeted her for the first time with a fart instead of a hello) and I went to my house for the weekend.  I don't live very far from where I go to college, so it wasn't really a hassle to get home.  My mom got BOSS tickets to go see RENT at the local theater, and I was pumped.


The snow's whipping and it's dark out.  My mom, one of her friends, my roommate, and I drive into Downtown and park in a sketchy lot.  We parked under a streetlight because apparently it would ward off muggers, at least that's what my mom said.  So we go to pay and you have to slide dollar bills into slits with your parking number on them.  I'm not really sure how efficient this was, but can I just say that IT TOOK TEN DAMN MINUTES TO PUT TWO DOLLARS INTO THIS SLIT?! Come on.  Obviously somebody coughmomcough didn't learn how to properly fold dollar bills in kindergarten like the rest of us.

Fiasco #1: Solved.

So we successfully cross the street and climb over the mountains/snowbanks riddled through the town and enter the actual building.  Piano was playing softly in the background, people were mingling, and I had to pee.  Bad.  So I get in the bathroom line while my mom, Kay (her friend) and my roommate talked.  I eventually join them and we were laughing about the most random things when all of a sudden, my mother gives me the most terrified look.  "I think my toe just went through my sock."

Dear lord.

She went to the bathroom to investigate if her toe did indeed puncture her sock and form a hole while the three of us laughed louder than any of us probably ever has.  Luckily, her sock was still 100% intact.  Obviously a work of a higher power because that woman's feet can get gnarly.

Fiasco #2: Averted.

Moving on.  So we go on up the stairs to sit in the balcony (front row) and my mom takes one look and just loses it.  Her hands clammed up and she demanded that I felt them, she closed her eyes, and told us that she needed to sit somewhere else.  It is what it is.  Some people don't enjoy heights and others relish in it.

So the kind usher takes her soaking hand and escorts her downstairs.  We watch her get seated...in the handicap section of the theater.  This doesn't sound funny, but the woman was smashed between a bunch of geezers.  We watched her try to socialize with them and roflcoptered.  It was really funny.

Fiasco #3: Finished.

I think being able to watch the play and watch my mother's reaction to RENT was the highlight of that weekend for me.  There was an unexpected...um, kinda naughty scene.  Let me just say that watching the shock in my mother's eyes on the other side of the theater made everything worth while.  Lord.

A ton of other things happened that night too, and honestly it probably wasn't funny to you at all.  I enjoyed reminiscing.

On a side note, I discovered that I went to high school with a dude who has a glass eye. WOAH.  I didn't think people like that really existed...

Another side note.  If you mix ginger ale and orange juice together, it kinda tastes like pineapple juice.  Oh and it looks like pineapple juice.  I'm convinced that I've been lied to my whole life.

IT LOOKS EXACTLY THE SAME.