Everyone needs an editor

The sun sets around 3:30 in Wisconsin.

My parents have met many people I know in Brooklyn. But today, we are sitting around the kitchen table, playing a game I made up called "What do you think of my friends that you will probably never meet?". The table is covered with photos. We are drinking gin and tonics.


Jess

Mom: She's pretty.
Dad: Cute girl.
Mom: The girl from Australia, right?
Me: Yeah. She's lovely in every possible way. And she makes the most amazing porridge.
Mom: I like porridge.
Dad: Do people still eat porridge?
Everyone else: Yes.
Brother: What's up with the strange expression?
Me: These pictures were taken all together (brings out polaroid of Fred and one of me) at a show. The opening band was horrible and played for an hour and a half. So these are pictures capturing our misery.

Fred

Dad: He's anguished.
Mom: He's tormented!
Me: It was a *really* bad band.
Brother: What band?
Me: Don't remember. We were there to see the Handsome Family.
Dad: Jon, you should ask Fred how to grow a good beard.
Me: Yeah, patchy. Your beard makes it look like you have malaria.
Brother: Shut up! What does that even mean?
Me: You know, like you're stranded in the jungle, sick, with a bad beard. "Oh my God, it's that explorer we all thought was dead! But he's alive and he's all gaunt with malaria and he has a horrible beard!"
Brother: You're insane.
Mom: Pass the salsa please.
Dad: So what does Fred do?
Me: Advertising. And he's a heart throb in Asia.
Dad: Who isn't?


Alex

Brother: What's he doing?
Me: Cooking. That's ravioli. He makes them.
Mom: Good cook?
Me: Yeah. But his wife is better.
Dad: I used to dream of having a bunch of friends who are all good cooks. And all I'd have to do is bring the wine.
Me: That's your life. Your dream has come true.
Mom: So Alex lives in Brooklyn?
Me: Yeah. But he's from Georgia.
Dad: (singing) Nobody knoooooows, the trouble I've seen...Nobody but Jeeeeeeesus.


Mario

Mom: He looks nice. Why is his shirt over his mouth like that?
Me: Dunno. Just for fun.
Dad: Maybe he's hiding a horrible scar.
Mom: Mario is Japanese, right?
Me: Japanese and Mexican.
Dad: Why 'Mario' then?
Me: He was named after the doctor who delivered him.
Dad: No one ever names their kids after me.
Brother: 'Cause your name is Herb.
Everyone: hahahahahaha
Mom: Do you think Mario likes canoeing?
(pause)
Me: Um, I really have no idea? Probably? Everyone likes canoes, don't they?
Dad: What's Mario like?
Me: Wonderful.

Gary

Mom: He looks 18!
Me: Really? He's much older! But maybe he'll be flattered you said that.
Dad: He has a nice profile. So he's a soccer player? (He's holding a soccer ball in the photo --ed.)
Me: He has a bad back. But when he does kick a soccer ball around, it's great, because he's like 50 miles of limbs all jogging and kicking and passing.
Mom: Yes, he's tall.
Dad: He's looking off to the side. (In deep thoughtful voice) What are you looking at, Gary? What are you thinking about?
Me: One of Gary's songs is being used in a Kleenex commercial.
(Note: Kleenex is made in my hometown. It is sacred.)
Mom: Oh! Wow!
Dad: He is a friend to paper products everywhere.

Peggy

Mom: And who's this?
Brother: Give me her phone number.
Me: This is Peggy Wang.
Dad: Peggy Wang. What is Peggy's secret?
Me: I don't know. But one thing about her is that she is the Peggy Wang of the East. I know another Peggy Wang in San Francisco, Peggy Wang West. And they know each other! We thought when they met, the world would blow up, but it didn't, and now they're good friends.
Dad: Why is she drinking PBR?
Me: Peggy's young. She doesn't know better.





Dad: So why are we probably never going to meet any of these gorgeous children?
Me: Who knows? Maybe you will. In Brooklyn someday.
Mom: If they're ever passing through Neenah, tell them to stop by and say hello.
Brother: No one "passes through" Neenah, Wisconsin.
Me: (laughing) That's very sweet though, Moms.
Brother: Who wants another drink?
(Everyone raises their glasses)


*This update typed while listening to Dressy Bessy.