I love those Bush twins. Since the attempted passing off of a fake ID with Secret Service in tow, I’ve been smitten. Now, I don’t often mention the following, well, because, I just don’t. Cue soap opera style flashback to the year 2000.
Mom: So honey, who are you voting for?
Me: I dunno. I’ll never forgive Tipper Gore for that whole PMRC label on Hair Bands in the late 80’s. So, I guess I’m voting for Bush because his redeeming quality is that he looks like Daddy.
Mom: Jesus Christ, he does. I was just telling your father that the other day.
(Of course this resemblance wasn’t as funny by the 2004 election. We all voted for Kerry because drunken Boston Irishmen with bad hair and exaggerated hand gestures are something we Connecticutters can relate to, more than a family resemblance at least.)
To this day, I find it hard to malign GW because he reminds me of my dad. My younger, longer-grudge-bearing, Iraqi-hating, misplaced-war-declaring, dad. The GW similarities to my Dad don’t stop at physical.
I love when Jenna says bye to her mom, and GW tries to hang up on her too, not understanding that he’s supposed to stay on the phone. (No no dude, you’re the President. They want to talk to you!) Or at the end where Ellen says, “Do you want to say Merry Christmas to the audience?” to which he says, “Of course I do! Tell my little girl that I love her!” Um, what? Technically that wasn’t a Merry Christmas to the audience. Totally my dad. Certifiably “out of it” 24/7. (Cue Will Ferrell as GW: That’s 24 hours a week, 7 months a year…)
Let’s recap a recent conversation. Sadly, this reveals our family weakness and makes me look stupid in the process, but I’m not sure what you expected from someone who admittedly votes for Presidents based on their patriarchal likeness. My family has a thing for coupons and rebates. We enjoy them. We love coming up with hundreds of addresses to maximize returns on the mail-in rebate. See, the mail-in-rebate is designed as a “perceived” savings to the consumer, but in the long run (hello Econ 101) really only benefits the seller because most people wouldn’t take the time to fill it out and jump through the hoops required to satisfy the condition for that extra dollar to be mailed in 12-97 weeks. But we’re not “most people.” We like a challenge. And free money! I can practically smell the cash!
Me: Hey, Mom? Is Dad there?
Mom (to the house:) PICK UP THE PHONE IT’S THE BABY!!!!!
(Shut up. I’ll always be the baby.)
Dad (picking up the phone:) Yeah?
Me: Hey, I got this coupon you sent for $10. But those were cash rebates we filled out. Did you run out of addresses or something? Why are they sending a coupon?
Dad: I’ll check.
Me: No, there’s nothing to check. You sent this to me. I got the coupon from you. It came from you with all these newspaper clippings, which, by the way, please stop sending me. I know what herpes looks like.
Dad: That’s not me, that’s your mother.
Me: Dad! The coupon. Where did it come from?
Dad: I deposited the rebate. Your brother told me to.
(This comment accurately implies a massive family plot. I can’t deny this. We all have roles in rebate-gate.)
Me: No. I’m talking about the one you just sent me. I just got it in the mail. From you. They should have sent a check, but if you used your address twice, they might not. They might send a coupon instead.
Me: It wasn’t a yes or no question Dad.
Dad: I don’t know.
Me: Are you talking to me or someone else? Is Mom still on?
Mom: I’m here.
Me: Is he okay? What the hell is he saying?
Mom: He’s like this all day honey. No one ever knows what he’s saying.
Me: Dad, is someone toying with your medicine?
Mom: The train is coming honey. We’re going into the city. We’ll call you back.
Me: No. Please don’t.
Mom: I can’t hear you. We’ll call you back.
I wanted to let it go to voicemail when they called back. But my mother will sit there talking to the voicemail going, “Hello? Are you there? Pick up if you are,” not realizing of course, that it’s all inside that itty bitty computer and there’s no answering machine connected to my cell phone that I just carry around with me. Perhaps that’s better than Jenna and her dad though, I think I heard her tell Ellen that her parents don’t have an answering machine.
Excellent. Mine have one, though they don’t believe in call waiting. Maybe if it came with a rebate…