Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Part Two

Yaíll I have written this fucking entry twice and lost it into the void. Because I am too stupid to type things out and then transfer it into Diaryland. Because that feels too much like writing. And then I feel like I have to be clever and funny. And I am neither. Though I swear both of the previous versions of this were HILARIOUS. And also prize winning. Or would have been in Diaryland hadnít cursed them.

All I know is that the first part of our trip to California was fun and light. We slept in a closet. We bought cds in a big store that we were not really cool enough to shop in. We ate at In-and-Out and I called Monica to brag about my burger, animal style. We got lost in Japan town. I had the Big D in Macyís.

We have covered this.

SF is only an hour or so from Modesto. It is about a million miles away in philosophy.

We did have fun in Modesto. We hid out in our hotel room. We bought a digital camera. J almost got in a fight in Target for wearing a shirt that some tight ass woman didnít think was appropriate (our, ďthis is Modesto, that is what is inappropriateĒ response did not please her). We saw Billy and admired his pretty pretty garden. We expressed our sympathy that his brother had ruined his irrigation system when he planted his pot plants (licensed by the state of California). We had dinner with Jís childhood friend Drea. We discovered that we could afford a big house in that fancy-pants neighborhood J has always wanted to live in (pro: arenít we fancy con: itís Modesto). Also, the real estate companies suck. Which led us to deciding that if some one gave us four hundred thousand dollars we would open a better real estate company down there. Which is totally not true. We would pay our mortgage and cars and student loans and then just keep working.

That is all fun.

Also, if you want to have lots of sex with your wife. Take her to a hotel. One in a town where she doesnít know anyone. And canít think about work. And doesnít have email. And doesnít want to see your family. Or leave the room ever. Then you will have lots of sex. Most of it dirty.

Not that I would know this. Or J discovered this.

Not at all.

But the graduation was not fun. Not a bit. First of all it was very far away. Far away in the direction of mountains. And scary men who donít wash. And people who drive faster than the speed limit and donít stop at stop signs because stop signs are from the government and the government shouldnít have any power because they just want to elect Jews and abort babies.

Which means we did not fit in so much.

Which is good. I mean who would want to fit in there really? However, we did feel a wee bit insecure in our little Korean car with its ELECT JOHN KERRY bumper sticker. Maybe they canít read?

It did seem likely.

And the place where JBro lives. SCARY. I mean the house was normal enough. A little dirty. A little secluded. But I mean they live in the woods with many many children. So ok. But the kids were all very nice and so polite and not at all like serial killers. Very impressive. But JBro (not being a member of this family I guess they just took him in after he moved out of his dadís?) lives in the dog kennel. This kennel is like a glorified fort made of plywood. The bottom floor is for the dogs and the loft above is for JBro. No heat. No plumbing. No insulation. NOTHING.

No wonder the kid stinks. And has a scalp so dry you can see the flakes from space. And possibly has fleas.

Donít worry. We stocked him up on toiletries. And sunblock. Because he had a third degree sunburn. Because sunblock is for wusses. So possibly that was a waste of money. Oh well.

The graduation was held in a public park. And attire was. Casual? I thought we were casual. For a graduation in Seattle I would wear a skirt or dress or nice pants. J would wear a tie and possible a jacket. For this I just wore a plain cotton skirt and nice shoes. J wore a collared shirt and khaki pants.

We were the only ones basically wearing clothes that you wouldnít mow your yard in. Most people were wearing wife beaters and dirty jeans. Many were not wearing shirts at all. I guess their husbands didnít mind. Even the graduates wore flip flops and sneakers. And most of them (except one of the girls) had their legs spread wide open through the whole ceremony.


And the guest speaker spent most of his speech talking about how global warming isnít real and science cannot be trusted. Also that anyone who doesnít trust the President is probably a terrorist.

Also lovely.

We fled that place as quickly as possible. Its not that we are snobs (though my MIL would probably tell you different) is that these people legitimately frightened me. All of the women had these blank looks on their faces. Everyone was drunk. Most people were drinking beer and smoking through the whole graduation. Our mullet count reached the double digits which is especially impressive in a town with maybe one hundred people.

I am so glad that JBro finished high school. So proud of him. And it was only our interest in him having a special day that kept of us from screaming, ďBy the way yaíll weíre Jews!!!Ē and squealing our tires trying to get away while they all freaked the fuck out.

That didnít seem like the polite thing to do.

7:40 p.m. :: comment ::
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