Archive for category Family

YouthDude’s rx for Holiday with parents.

The impor­tant thing here, is to make sure that no one has a good time.

Start cam­paign well in advance, by refus­ing to go on the hol­i­day that Par­ents are propos­ing. They have not been able to afford a hol­i­day for four years, and the idea has come up now because your elder brother has finally got a job and your mother’s aunt Daphne died, leav­ing enough money to take the fam­ily some­where sunny.

1 Repeat often and loudly that you don’t want to go, that it’ll be bor­ing, you hate for­eign food, you’d rather have the money, none of your friends are going away, you want to stay with Fish, your par­ents are always mak­ing you do things you don’t want to do, no one else’s par­ents make them do things and every­one else’s par­ents give them more money and let them do as they like. Imply that your father is a slob because he doesn’t have a BMW and because he has not bought you the sound sys­tem that Kenny has.

2 Slam doors.

3 Shut your­self in your room with Kenny and Fish and play Ixnay on the Hom­bre very loud, espe­cially at four am on Sunday

4 Raid the kitchen when every­one is in bed, leave the fridge door open, and, hav­ing removed the can­dles, eat most of Lydia’s 9th birth­day cake out of the tin leav­ing crumbs and can­dles over a wide area.

5 Con­tinue with 1 – 4 until the eve of depar­ture. Announce that

a) you can’t find your passport,

b) you need new green Con­verse which cost 90 quid,

c) you will be sick if they make you eat for­eign food. Stare out of the win­dow a lot with your mouth open, jig­gling your left foot. Make no attempt to pack or find your passport.

6 When Par­ent finds, buys and brings you new Con­verse, point out that they’re BLUE.

7 When Par­ent finds your pass­port and tells you to put it some­where safe, put it on the pile of news­pa­pers that father is throw­ing out. Grunt at mother when she remarks on this, and replace pass­port on top of the fridge.

8 Stay up until four the night before you all have to be up at six, play­ing Tupac, soul­ful but loud.

9 Stum­ble around the fol­low­ing morn­ing. Be surly. Get in the way. Demand a proper break­fast. Shrug shoul­ders and sigh loudly if any­one talks to you. Say: ‘don’t care’ or ‘dunno’ in response to ques­tions about pack­ing, pass­port and Spinhaler.

10 Develop a sud­den and unusual fond­ness for Fido. Tell par­ents how cruel they are to leave him with strangers.

11 Wait until you are at the check in to remem­ber that pass­port is on top of fridge.

12 Sigh heav­ily and look aggrieved when your dad says how lucky it is that the flight is delayed by two hours and he’ll just have time to go back and col­lect it.

13 In father’s absence, demand money from your mum so that you can buy a com­puter game and have a dou­ble cheese­burger, chips and milkshake.

14 Do not be where you arranged to meet until eleven min­utes before the plane is due to leave.

15 Bring up cheese­burger, chips and milk­shake on unknown fel­low pas­sen­ger on the plane.

16 Blame your mother.

17 Com­plain about the heat and the smell on landing.

18 Com­plain about the heat and smell in the hire car.

19 Vomit on Lydia.

20 Say at two minute inter­vals dur­ing the drive ‘Aren’t we there yet?’

21 Mut­ter incom­pre­hen­si­ble swear words, and answer ‘noth­ing’ if any­one asks what you said.

22 Feel aggrieved when Par­ents take the dou­ble room at the villa. Slam the door of your allot­ted room and refuse to come out. Be pissed off when you hear the oth­ers hav­ing fun in the pool. Eat the Lasagna they bought for din­ner, leav­ing four dirty pans – one irre­triev­ably burnt – a bro­ken egg on the floor and a trail of sticky plates, cut­lery and sur­faces. Com­plain about the Lasagna. Com­plain about the ants when your mother points out that there is noth­ing left to eat

23 Com­pel your par­ents to drive to the vil­lage ten miles away to get another Spinhaler

24 When they sug­gest you might like to come with them, point out that they left your BLUE Con­verse at home.

25 Eat all the Hob­nobs while they are out. Refuse lunch.

26 Be sick again. Get a temperature.

27 Sud­denly feel much bet­ter when they have gone back to the vil­lage to find med­i­cine for you, and play Nin­tendo for the next eight hours, snack­ing on a loaf of bread and all the Nutella.

28 Refuse sup­per. Tell your mother she is an alco­holic when she sug­gests to your dad that they have a glass of wine

29 Scowl and look embar­rassed when the owner of the villa drops by to see if you need any­thing and your mother talks to her. Point out that the tele­vi­sion does not have the sports chan­nel and that the cd’s are bor­ing old people’s music.

30 Sleep all day. Play Heavy Metal and Nin­tendo all night

31 Refuse all sug­ges­tions for trips to Water­world, the local fiesta, horserid­ing, the sea, the pizza restau­rant. Feel mar­tyred if they go with­out you.

32 Keep this up for the week or fort­night, and there is a good chance that you will not have to endure another hol­i­day with your parents.

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