How to Impress Your In-Laws 101
I am not sure how I managed to land the sweetest in-laws on the face of the planet. They love me despite my endless list of social faux pas and outbursts of profanity. They also don't mind my lack of singing ability, just as I appreciate their tendency to obsess over gas prices and tell the same stories over and over again. Especially the one about how to get free chips at Chili's. Here is just a sampling of the many ways I have impressed Joe's parents:
Fell asleep during their home videos.
Got really drunk at their rich friend's Christmas party and threw a tantrum playing the board game "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus."
Said the F-word really loud the second time I met them.
Forgot my father-in-law's birthday.
Stabbed my mother-in-law in the foot (an accident!).
Routinely plugged up their toilets.
These are all major infractions. But I would be remiss not to also mention my lack of interest in gas prices, which makes my father-in-law cringe. He always knows the cheapest place in town to buy gas, and he never fails to ask us about gas prices in Texas when we visit. A couple of summers ago, my in-laws were following us on a road trip and I pulled into a gas station that I chose based on the prospect of a clean restroom and a good selection of drinks. My FIL pulled up next to us and motioned to a gas station across that road that was 1 cent cheaper. I didn't want to disagree, so we pulled out and drove across the highway to the small crumbly shack gas station -- with a soggy restroom key and a lot of flies -- and saved 30 cents.
Another minor infraction involved embarrassing myself at a gospel brunch a couple of years ago in Austin. In an effort to appear breezy, I joined Joe and other restaurant-goers on stage to sing with the band. The only expectation was to clap, smile and sing the word, "Yeah!" when the band leader came around to you with his microphone. I was having fun, clapping and smiling, until the band leader came to me. I froze. I don't remember much of what happened next, but my in-laws tell me I looked scared stiff as I flatly said, "Yes" into the microphone. As far as I know, the music screetched to a stop. A spoon clattered in the distance. I fumbled my way off stage with sweaty armpits and another notch in my totem pole of unimpressive moments.
Fell asleep during their home videos.
Got really drunk at their rich friend's Christmas party and threw a tantrum playing the board game "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus."
Said the F-word really loud the second time I met them.
Forgot my father-in-law's birthday.
Stabbed my mother-in-law in the foot (an accident!).
Routinely plugged up their toilets.
These are all major infractions. But I would be remiss not to also mention my lack of interest in gas prices, which makes my father-in-law cringe. He always knows the cheapest place in town to buy gas, and he never fails to ask us about gas prices in Texas when we visit. A couple of summers ago, my in-laws were following us on a road trip and I pulled into a gas station that I chose based on the prospect of a clean restroom and a good selection of drinks. My FIL pulled up next to us and motioned to a gas station across that road that was 1 cent cheaper. I didn't want to disagree, so we pulled out and drove across the highway to the small crumbly shack gas station -- with a soggy restroom key and a lot of flies -- and saved 30 cents.
Another minor infraction involved embarrassing myself at a gospel brunch a couple of years ago in Austin. In an effort to appear breezy, I joined Joe and other restaurant-goers on stage to sing with the band. The only expectation was to clap, smile and sing the word, "Yeah!" when the band leader came around to you with his microphone. I was having fun, clapping and smiling, until the band leader came to me. I froze. I don't remember much of what happened next, but my in-laws tell me I looked scared stiff as I flatly said, "Yes" into the microphone. As far as I know, the music screetched to a stop. A spoon clattered in the distance. I fumbled my way off stage with sweaty armpits and another notch in my totem pole of unimpressive moments.
posted by Carrie at 10:33 PM
1 Comments:
How 'bout this one: You write some relatively bad stuff about your MIL, post it on your "private" blog, and then she finds it. Have you done that yet?
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