The Parental Units

Obviously, my family came to Hipsterville for my graduation. But I couldn’t help feel like it was solely out of obligation.

I say this because they participated in the bare minimum amount if festivities and were MIA for 100% of the graduation parties that I attended.

“Where are your parents?!” “I would have loved to have met them”; these questions and statements played like a broken record all throughout the day.

After my second grad party of the day I stopped by their hotel to get some family time. On a gorgeous, sunny, and warm day, everyone was napping and watching endless Dateline shows.

Wait, what?

They are so weird. I walked into my parents’ suite to find my dad sprawled out across the bed. “SUP POPS!?” I cheerfully cooed as I skipped into the room.

He looked at me, said nothing, rolled over and that was that. End of story.

They then decided to have a “farewell breakfast” at 7:30 A-fucking-M. Hell to the no.

Obviously, I did not go because that is fucking crazy and I was out far too late partying with the graduates. NOPE.


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