Cultural Learnings of America

It was going to happen sooner or later -- I was going to fall back into my old pattern of rarely blogging. I'm going to try to dig myself back out, but no promises. What can I say? I think it's just the way I am. Sometimes I want to plunge in, participate, and contribute. Other times I just want to sit back and dangle my feet in the river as it rushes by me. And of course, at other times, I don't want to be anywhere close to the riverbank at all. It's the same for everything, school included. I WISH I always wanted to be swimming, but it's just not that way.

But -- I'll tell you a funny story to start in the blog-renewal process.

My parents, being good citizens of both the British realm and the 1950's, wanted to go see the movie The Queen over the weekend. On the way, they wondered aloud if the theatre would be full (since it was last time they tried to go see it), and I muttered "No, I doubt it. Borat's out now." To which my father replies, with a supreme lack of concern for my delicate sensibilities: "Oh yes. I wanted to see that."

*pin drop*

When I had regained the power of speech, I asked him to clarify. Turns out Borat made an appearance on Jay Leno the other night, with Martha Stewart. My mother chimes in to say that it was the funniest thing she had ever seen in her life. In her words: "She tried to teach him how to make a bed -- you know, hospital corners and all that -- and he had a TOTALLY DIFFERENT IDEA of what that meant! Oh, it was so funny!"

Needless to say, the thought of my parents, who are turning 70 and 68 this year, sitting through a theatrical presentation of "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan" sent me running for the nearest paper bag. But my horror wasn't over: my mother then proceeded to drop into a BORAT IMPRESSION. My mother. Who serves tea in china cups and believed that the novel Trainspotting was about the charmingly innocent pastime of railway photography.

Sometimes, I'm just not sure what to do with them....

~isolde