What!?

Monday and Tuesday were like a mini-vacation. I’ve consumed more candy, soda, sweets and pizza in the last two days than 3 ten year olds put together could handle. I’ve also consumed lot of antacid too.

Sunday night D got in from work around 1am and we started watching movies as you can see from my entries below. We giggled, stayed up until 6am and acted like kids during a sleep over. Monday was a repeat. Movies, crap food, laughing like madmen, and being goofy in general.

Tuesday we went to our district office for class, stopped by Costco and were done running errands by 2 in the afternoon. More movies. By 5pm D got the brilliant idea that he wanted to mow the front of our property on the new riding lawn mower we bought my dad for his birthday. So, after D tried to “pop a wheelie” on the mower (and got yelled at for it) we sat out in the back yard on the swing until 9pm cutting up with my dad, getting ate alive by mosquitoes.

I’d like to relay part of the “cutting up” that took place. I think the collective IQ dropped by at least 50 points in my home yesterday. And I thought I was a little too honest.

D says, “Hey Mr. C”

Did I mention that D still calls my dad “Mr. C”? Yep, D has been in our family for 11 years now and still calls my dad by his last name. He says it’s a respect thing. I think it’s sweet. Anyway.

“Hey Mr. C” my dad says “Yeah?”

I must stop this new born story right here and tell you I swear, D said the following word…for…word…to…my…father(!).

“Hey Mr. C” my dad says “Yeah?”. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to set my balls on fire with habanero peppers?”

There it is. He said it. My dad starts cracking up and asked if that was the time I called him and asked what would stop a hot pepper burn. D answered gleefully “Yeah! I was cutting peppers for dinner. I had to pee so I rinsed my hands off but I guess I didn‘t rinse them well enough looking back, dried them and went pee.”

Here’s where it gets really good. Can anyone say TMI?

D continues “I think when I was shaking off getting ready to zip up” (HOLY SHIT!!!! What did you just say to my dad???? Shaking Off??? WHAT!??? Did I just hear you right???) “my hand must have brushed against my balls or something because it felt like I set them on fire!”

The world is spinning out of control, blood is rushing to my head, I think I’m going to pass out.

At this point my dad is in tears he’s laughing so hard which is just encouraging D even more (who is giggling like a child). I sat there. Staring. At D. My eyes bulging from their respective sockets.

My dad caught a glimpse of my ‘look of death’ and promptly says “Oh Aza, re-LAX! It‘s a guy thing!”

“No dad, D discussing his habanero burnt testicles with you is NOT a ‘guy thing’ it’s creeping me out!” this statement brought forth another 5 minutes of uncontrolled giggling.

So there it is. Male bonding. I swear we’re not white trash. Really.