The Life & Opinions of a Late GenX-er/Early Millennial
I just got off the phone with my dad. A 45-minute conversation.
Our conversation went something like this: “Hi, dad.” “I just tried calling you. Your voicemail box is full.” “Oh, ok. Yeah, I never check it.” “Someone might want to call you and leave you a message. Gotta check that.” The only people who call me and leave messages are Walgreen’s pharmacy with an automated message letting me know that my prescription is ready. So, not even a person.
“Are your standards too high?”
My concerned dad, seated in front of me in the booth, waited to hear whether I was self-sabotaging my romantic possibilities and thus crushing his dreams of seeing more grandchildren. Grandchildren from his firstborn. No pressure. I’d returned to Houston to visit my family for the Christmas holiday. My dad had kidnapped me from my parents’ house, where funnily enough I’d been regalingmy mom with dating horror stories. He’d returned from running whatever errands dads run and whisked me away. He didn’t tell me where we were going. I didn’t know until we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. I guess we’re eating then.
This is the third year that Jimmy Kimmel encouraged parents to torment their unsuspecting, innocent, cherub-faced children by pretending the parents ate all the kids’ Halloween candy. These candy-nappers film the interaction as they break the news to their presumed beloved spawn, and we, as adults, are expected to laugh at the pain these helpless tykes feel at the sudden, shocking and unexpected loss of their sugar prizes. “That’s not a very kind thing to doooooo,” one sweet boy wailed at his candy-napping parent.