My parents used to call me all the time, desperate to hear about every detail of my pathetic life. Am I eating well? Do I have enough money? Have I gotten mugged yet? Have I met any nice girls? Have I found worthwhile employment? Do I ever see Jeremy Piven from "Entourage" in my neighborhood? (The answer to these questions are: "No", "no", "no", "hell fucking no", "no", and "I hope not".)
In the hour my parents and I spend talking each week, we cover every embarrassing aspect of my life: My humiliating occupations, my shaggy deadbeat hippie hair that makes employers wrongly assume I'll show up to work 20 minutes late and stoned out of my mind every day, my non-existent love life, and even my lack of acceptable food and clothing choices. But lately things have changed. My parents haven't been calling every week, and I suspect they've ditched me to lead interesting lives of their own.
This is unacceptable. Parents aren't supposed to have lives. They're supposed to be boring robotic drones who go to work, watch repeats on TV all night, and then go to bed at 9pm to restart the lifeless cycle of their lives. They're supposed to live vicariously through my brother and I, desperately and pathetically clinging to the one hour a week when they can pry into the lives of their grown children.
So what happened? Have my parents become so senile that they're forgetting to harass their own children? Have they found a new hobby, abandoning their old one of analyzing why I don't have a girlfriend? Did my dad get ahold of some Viagra? Has my life become so boring that they've started calling other people's adult offspring who lead more interesting lives? The suspense is killing me.
(Note to my parents: If dad did get some Viagra, please don't share this information with me. Lie to me and say your Alzheimer's causes you to forget my phone number. If you want me to someday produce grandchildren for you, do not tell me anything erotic that happens in your lives. Most people view their parents as eunuchs who are incapable of having sex, and if the formula ain't broke, don't fix it.)
Okay, so I may not be the most exciting person in the world lately. I've rarely left my apartment because of the scorching heat, and until I can pay the bills properly I won't be exploring new places or trying new activities. But mom and dad, you still have to call and sit through my boring stories every week. If you don't, I'll have to spend hours telling my friends about the really long interception return I had while playing Madden 2006 this morning. And then my friends will start avoiding me.
I'm sure my life will get interesting again soon, but until then you have to weather the storm of boredom. Try watching TV while you pretend to listen to me. That's what I do when you guys tell . . . or I mean that's what I would do if you guys told boring stories.
Humor me, my dear parents. I never realized it before, but I enjoy hearing you whine about how I never call you. I delight in your irate messages of, "This is your parents calling . . . again. We'll be here waiting for your call . . . all day." I don't live with you anymore, so you can't feed me food, but you can feed my ego. And as you can tell by reading this website, my ego is very, very hungry.
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