In which N proves he’s funny.

My parents were up this weekend. My parents were up this weekend.

For those of you who don't know, my parents "travel" the country in an RV. Their "home base" is at my step-brother's house in North Carolina. Please keep this in mind as you continue to read: I AM NOT CLOSE WITH HIM. He's a nice guy, I'm sure. BUT WE ARE NOT BUDDIES. This backstory is a post for another time.

So yesterday, we went out for breakfast lunch (why the strikethrough? My folks were 2 HOURS LATE), and after, we decided to get a creamie. Unless you are from Vermont or some other backwoods state, you are asking yourself, "What the fuck is a creamie, and why would you eat something with such a pornographic name?" Because that's what hilltown people call "softserve ice cream." On Cape Cod, we called it Par-Tee-Freeze, and it was the bomb.

Anyway, we were sitting on a bench, devouring our creamies. N is complaining because his watermelon flavor burst is not at all watermelon-y. And for some reason we started talking about hepatitis and tattoos. My mother offers this little tidbit: "I'd get a tattoo, if I wasn't so afraid of the pain. A rose on my boob." Thanks, Mom. I will scratch that off of the list of Things I've Always Wanted to Know About You, But Never Asked, Because in Reality I DIDN'T Want to Know That About You. She then explains that my step-brother, because of his work, cannot wear a wedding ring, so he chose to have a wedding ring tattooed. How very Tommy Lee, right?

N, in a brilliant moment of comic genius, with a completely straight face, says, "That's kind of like wearing one of those t-shirts with a tuxedo printed on it, you know? Just makes life easier."