I’ve come to the sad realization that my parents have more of a social life than I do. Which on one hand I’m happy for them and all, because they spent 20+ years raising kids and deserve to cut loose, but on the other hand makes me feel slightly pathetic and like I need to launch operation “out-cool kid” my parents ASAP – apologies in advance to Zee German who last weekend announced he hated when it was sunny because it meant I wanted to run around outside chasing one sunny spot to another. HELLO SEATTLE LIFE.

On a side note this kind of reminds me of the Toyota comercials, which I actually think are horrible because they basically market to their audience by telling them they sucked at parenting and their kids are now loosers. And they annoy me.

But back to how my parents are beating me in the cool kid race.

Apparently my parents are now groupies with back to back concert schedules filling their weekends. And while I was listening to them excitedly retell the events of their night with “Motown” musicians (on our way to breakfast), my dad busts in with giggles (yes he giggled, which should have clued me in on the time to plug my ears and sing “na na na na” was upon us) about how they should really call their concert an “intimate concert”. No, no “sensual concert” with lyrics that if you listen closely would be considered porn. Things like “deep inside you is my magic place”. And ding, ding, ding – time for plugging ears has come and gone and I have officially heard my dad giggle, refer to porn, intimate and sensual in the same sentence and state the words “deep inside you”. Things that can’t be unheard.

Breakfast. ruined.