My family is petrified that I'll post a blog about anything they say or do. "This better not end up on that internet." They say, wagging their fingers at me.
Paranoid, aren't they?
Anyway, last night I was at my parent's house with my hubby and sister. Summer, in mid-conversation as she is prone to do, stops and reaches for something in the floor under the coffee table. "What's this?" she asks my parents.
"Daddy brought me home a vibrator." Mom says nonchalantly.
Then, we all laugh hysterically as Summer opens up this thing that looks like an antique ear thermometer and squeals "It's from 1965!"
This prompts my dear hubby, he who possesses the social graces of an angry monkey, to retell a story.
Harry: "My friend's dad worked for the Department of Highways and he found a vibra-"
Me: "Please don't say it. I can't take anymore. Please - call it a - uh - a - uh 'personal hygeinated stimulatory device'!"
Harry: "So he found a vibrator by the side of the road, took it home, and used it on his wife."
A little part of me dies as I bury my head into his armpit.
Mom: "Oh, that reminds me of my friend-"
Harry: "Wait we're talking about vibrators and THAT reminds you of someone?"
Me: "Oh God, please, help me...
Mom: "Well, yes! You know, AIDS, Diseases and the like, since it was by the side of the road, and my friend was teaching class and a kid bit her! She and the little girl both have to go for AIDS tests!"
Dad: "Hey, Summer, does it smell funny?"
All but Holly: belly laugh with merriment and mirth.
And I'M the one they're worried about.
That I'M going to embarress THEM!