I KNOW. I don't know what's sexier, my dad's creeper 'stache or my mom's hair/eyeshadow. God. I love the 80's.
Now they're boring.
Truth be told, I have the most amazing parents on the planet.
I went to dinner with them tonight, and after listening to my dad rant for a solid half hour about how I can't afford to live in Brooklyn, not to mention I'll be blown up by a terrorist and raped/mugged/urined on upon arrival, I opened a fortune cookie that read:
"You will soon venture on a pleasant journey."
"See?" I gloated.
"Yeah, well, we both know they're not talking about Heaven, I guess."
Instead of diving into a theological debate that would end in his throwing annointing oil on me, I smiled like a good daughter. We both know I won that argument. Fortune cookies do not lie. They can't. They're cookies. They are incapable.
Despite their unforunate conservatism, my parents remain my two favorite people in the world.
These guys are in a close second place, however. My grandparents.