One Step Closer To Home

Today was quite the busy day. Travelled by car up to Edmonton with my parents, I slept all the way to Red Deer than I was awake from then on to Edmonton. This may have been due to the medium iced cap I got from Timmy Ho’s. So an hour and a half later, we arrive in Edmonton. Yay. Now comes the event of trying to find my brother’s place. Great. My dad has been there a few times before, and he was saying turn at 82nd street. Well my mom was too busy trying to figure out where 82nd street was, and missed it. Then we were trying to figure out where to turn to get back to my brother’s place and missed the next turn. It was quite the disaster. At this time it was pouring rain and we had a bunch of stuff to unload to take to my brother.

So we get to my brother’s apartment complex, park in the 15 minute loading zone and start unpacking. Well apparently my mom thought she was going to be doing some modelling for JuST B and brought 3 different pairs of sandals. So those all fell out of the car. My dad was all worried about the 15 minute parking and whether or not he’ll get a ticket or not. And by this point I just want to get out the car and go up to my brothers room, sit down and relax. So I grab as much of this stuff as possible and grab my stuff, and move towards the elevator. So we finally get it all in one trip and get on the packed elevator. At this point my dad decides to start talking to me about how my brother’s apartment is this, or that. I don’t even remember.

But I don’t know about you, but I hate it when people talk on the elevator. I really just wanted to tell him to STFU. The elevator is not a place to have a conversation, especially when you’re having said conversation over about 4 other people. So first rude offense: talking in an elevator, second rude offense: talking over other people. So we finally get to my brother’s apartment and in through the door and I see my brother’s roommate, who is pretty friggen tall. Something like 6’7″. One of the few people I can actually kind of look in the eyes. At which point my dad figures it’s his place to introduce my brother’s roommate to me. Luckily my brother cut him off and did it himself.

After we get everything set in my brother’s apartment, they decide to go to dinner at some resturaunt. We end up accidentally at an uber fancy place where the waiter’s wear full tuxedo’s and a steak costs $30 a pop. My dad continues to do some crazy things, including involving himself in conversations which he has no idea what’s going on, and taking what I say to the waiter as a response to his question. Oh how I am ready to go home.

Being in Calgary is great and all, but after living without supervision and parents for the past year, coming back to this is quite a pain in the ass. I’m not picky, I don’t like answering questions, I don’t really have much of an opinion on things and I don’t like help or being told how to do things. And my parents always seem to forget this and do the opposite of everything I don’t like.

After dinner we went to Superstore where my brother loaded up on all the essentials for living on his own. This was an enjoyable experience for me, as I have done it a few times before when my parents have visited. BASICALLY when your parents take you shopping it’s the greatest thing ever. Even if you don’t really need something, but you just want it, and you COULD possibly use it sometime in the near future, all you have to do is throw it in the cart and it gets bought. Yay. When we get to the check out we find out if we spend $5 we get a $25 gift certificate. Okay great, we throw a magazine in there and get our $25. But no. My brother and I have the cart, ready to leave and my mom stops us at the door because apparently neither my dad or my mom had the gift certificate. Well neither of us had it so we go and load the car with stuff. We get that done and go pull up front to wait for them. Well, after waiting about 15 minutes, my parents finally come out. They had argued about getting their stupid gift certificate activated and blah blah blah.

Today I had an epiphany about my parents. They are the people that everyone who works in the service industry hates. They’re the people who return their steaks because it’s too well done. They’re the people who return steaks because it’s too rare. They make sure everything is perfect for them and won’t stop until it is. I’m the kind of person that as long as I get what I wanted to, then it’s okay. I’m not picky and won’t argue. But today my parents needed to get an extra dollar off on their meal, and had to make sure their gift card worked. Blah.

So again we return to the apartment, and the whole 15 minute loading zone fandango happens again. And again, I grab as much as possible and get upstairs. Then we get everything unloaded and have the whole, “well what do you want to do” back and forth thing. Well I didn’t really feel like going out, but my entire family wanted to go visit my uncle. So I’d feel like the dick kid who didn’t show up if I didn’t come. So I HAD to come visit with my uncle and aunt and cousin. Now you have to know, my brother has been up to Edmonton to visit with this part of my family quite a bit, and he and my 7 year old cousin get along quite well. While I have been in Victoria for the past year and never really warmed up to her. Now, I don’t like children under the age of about 13. They don’t understand sarcasm. I’m just not a fan of the whole baby talk with kids, I can’t do it. So basically I just sat and told the same story I’ve told everyone that I’ve been here. Yay.

And now, finally got home. Blew up my air mattress. Watching football with my brother. Finished this stupid blog. Going to bed soon. I just want to go to this concert tomorrow and then go home. Blah.

Later days,

– J

Advertisements

One comment

  1. calandra

    good god! that is quite the fandango. glad you survived to see your one true love dallas green live šŸ˜›

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s