Awkward parental moment from yesterday:
Soooo, they're FINALLY thinking about picking up the Failtima and getting it fixed. FINALLY. After, gosh, three months of whining?
I kept trying to remember what I wanted to do this weekend that would necessitate having a car, and finally remembered it: OMG! One of my close friends is having his wedding reception? (whatever a pre-marriage get-together thing is called) on Saturday, so I asked if my folks could pick up the car on Sunday instead.
After some hum-hawing about how they don't like going anywhere on Sundays (even though I think there's less traffic when it's not a major weekend), mom asked, "you don't do anything I wouldn't be proud of at these parties you go to, do you?" The kinds of questions most people get asked when they're, gosh, 14? I'm probably one of the most boring people I know anyway and she's asking questions about a wedding party like I said, "Hey, mom, I'm gonna go chill with these scary-looking dudes over here who look like they sell meth."
Bonus: the party is at my friend's parents' house, and they're both profs at my school...which is kind of strict on the whole "no wild parties" thing, anyway.
Awwwwwkward tuuuuurtle.
