September 26, 2014
After you move out from your parents' house you try to avoid that place like the fucking plague, but sometimes you just need to get away from your stressful life of blacking out and not eating, so you go home. Your dad will ask you if you're ready to start paying your own bills and your mom will grill the shit out of you about why you don't have a nice, mature boyfriend. Let the agony begin.
Making it through these couple of days is pure torture when your parents literally will not stop asking you questions from the moment you walk through the door until the moment you storm out Sunday morning, but it’s not impossible with the right state of mind.
Start with your arrival. When you first get there ask your dad what his favorite new cocktail is so he gets excited that you share at least one interest and gets the bright idea in his head to make you a drink. It will probably be some weird whiskey shit, but it will definitely take the edge off of the dinner you’re about to endure.
Knowing your mom she probably invited your whole fucking family for your “homecoming” so you have to duck away from your great aunt’s cheek kisses (you’d rather make out with your back burner bro for the next month than have this lady’s dry lipsticked-lips touch your cheek) and hide in the bathroom during appetizers so your grandma won’t ask if you’re engaged yet. Sorry it’s not 1865 and people wait till they’ve at least partied through half their twenties to get married. And no, I’m not a virgin so stop making awkward comments about that shit.
If you manage to survive this dinner disaster, you will wake up on Saturday morning with a hangover the size of your ugly cousin’s ass. Didn’t she tell you she signed up for Weight Watchers when you saw her at Christmas?
Stay in bed for as long as possible so you can avoid your parents questioning how much of their Grey Goose you drank last night. They will hopefully forget about it by noon after they went to early morning Pilates or whatever it is parents do to not get fat.
By the time you stumble out of your room, shower, eat some waffles, and realize you might still be drunk, your parents will be expecting to do some family bonding activity, most likely including an outdoor activity. Put on your sunglasses and say a prayer because this hike your dad has planned will kick your ass and you might have to throw up behind the beautiful oak tree your parents can’t stop admiring. It’s a fucking tree, not the eighth wonder of the world.
Go to bed early Saturday night, saying you need to catch up on your sleep because you have a grueling work week ahead. Hopefully your parents don’t ask about your schedule because all that’s written down in your planner is a 1 PM mani pedi on Monday.
Unless you absolutely have no soul you will obviously tell your parents you love them and will miss them before leaving their home/torture chamber on Sunday morning. Congrats, you made it through the weekend and if you’re lucky your dad slipped you a check because of how proud he and your mom are of all your accomplishments. By accomplishments he probably means not crashing the BMW they bought you last year and not making him a grandfather yet, but hey you’ll take what you can get. Snag a bottle of their finest wine on your way out and pat yourself on the back for surviving a weekend at home.