Happy birthday, Katie Bee!

And now, family drama.

So my uncle (not the one I live with, the one I work with and who got me this job) has a four-year-old daughter, and it was her birthday on Friday, a fact I discovered on Thursday. So I didn't really have time to get her anything. On the way there, I got a call from my aunt, who, as an emissary from my mom, then still in Europe, told me I should give her $25, which seemed like a large monetary gift for a four-year-old. It was one of those "It's up to you, but if you don't do this, you're going to be in trouble and also be a horrible, despicable person" things. Luckily, I actually did have a twenty and a five in my wallet, and when we got to their house, I quietly slipped into their office and, um, borrowed an envelope to put the money in. Later, I unassumingly gave the daughter the envelope to put with her other gifts.

My parents got back from Europe yesterday, and the first order of business was the fact that I hadn't given the daughter anything for her birthday. My aunt said it didn't sound like I was going to take her advice, and my uncle (the one I live with) said I didn't do it. Why did he say that? my mom asked. Because he didn't see me, I said.

So I kind of awesomely won that round, because she was all set to berate me, but my dad told her to ask me first to get the whole story. Sometimes I just think, money is money, I can always get more.

Then, as we discussed Europe, there was a wonderful segue into the Inevitable Subject. She said we would be going to India this year or next year.

"Errrrr," I said.

"Why 'Errrrr'? Do you have someone picked out?"

"No," I said.

"You tell me if you do," she said. "And she should be Gujarati. Please don't pick a white or black or anything. They never work out."

"Right," I said.

"Their views aren't the same as our views. They rarely work out. Very low chances. Maybe one in a hundred."

"Okay," I said.

Toward the end of the conversation, she talked about the hypothetical future when I'm living in my own apartment with my wife, and I said, "Actually, I got my own apartment now," but she didn't hear it, so we'll have to burn that bridge when we come to it.

And speaking of burning bridges, dinner was a harrowing experience. The whole family went out yesterday (and may I just give a big "Fuck you" to my condescending aunt who expressed huge, genuine surprise that I was going out with everyone instead of staying home on the computer), and we had a couple other teenagers in tow, cousins of my cousins. We went to an Indo-Chinese place.

Now, a couple months ago, I got a stern talking-to from my parents because I had accompanied the relatives to Ice Age 2 and not paid for my own ticket. I'm sorry, I didn't know the rules. Also, I didn't buy any popcorn or anything because, well, I never buy concessions. I'm sorry, I didn't know the rules. I didn't realize that now that I have a job, I would be forced to spend money whenever there was a chance. A couple fucking weeks later, we went out to see MI:3 for Mother's Day, and I tried to suck it up and pay for everyone, but my aunt wouldn't let me. MIXED MESSAGES MUCH?

So now we were at dinner, and I wasn't sure what the motherfucking rules were, but I didn't want them to pay for me, and I didn't want to pay for myself either because I was going out a lot this month and had not accounted for this extra expense on top of everything else; I could make a sandwich at home or something. I stood in line with everyone as they ordered. No one specifically asked me what I wanted; my aunt asked me if she should order some Manchurian, but I shook my head because it hadn't been that good last time. She didn't go on to ask me what I did want, though, so I didn't say anything. I figured they would be ordering enough dishes for everyone to share, anyway; I didn't need my own thing.

They secured a table, and my cousin got dishes for everyone. Except me. There was no plate in my place. He had (continued...)

( continues...) forgotten to count himself, he said, but it sure didn't lessen the effect. Food started arriving. My cousin had a big bowl of chicken fried rice. Which he proceeded to dig into with his spoon. So I guess it was, in fact, individual dishes for everyone. Whatever.

As food continued to arrive, it became clear that I hadn't ordered anything. They told me to order something, but I said I was fine. "I'm fine" is like a fucking catchphrase for me. I couldn't explain my neurosis to them. That I didn't want to make them pay for me. That I didn't want to be a burden.

Then I felt like a total douche as people began offering me their food, and I reluctantly took it. My aunt and uncle kept saying I should order something, but I said I was fine. The scraps would do. All I needed was scraps, like I was a dog.

If anyone saw my tears, they could assume it was due to the spiciness of the chicken.

{{{{P-C}}}}

~ma for Raq and Vortex.

super~ma for Beverly and StE and your whole family.

Happy b-day, Katerina B.

{{{{{{{{{{P-C}}}}}}}}}}

As part of your second family, I think I speak for all when I say you get no scraps at this table. Full plate, always.

t /damn allergies

Oh, P-C, you poor guy.

They didn't do anything wrong, though. It was all my own stupid fault.

Well, I think you've finally convinced me that your mother is right, P-C.

"And she should be Gujarati. Please don't pick a white or black or anything. They never work out...Their views aren't the same as our views. They rarely work out. Very low chances. Maybe one in a hundred."

Speaking as a non-Gujarati white chick, my views of how families should treat each other and deal with monetary issues and going out are definitely not the same as your family's views.

It was all my own stupid fault.

Next time you'll get the fried rice. All these tricky social codes to negotiate.

I disagree. They put you in an impossible position.

I don't really know that I understood how the ordering process worked at the restaurant, but I'm guessing it was a step up and order what you want kind of thing? If my family was out together, everyone would get a chance to order, and if someone wasn't ordering we'd badger them three ways to Sunday to make sure that maybe they'd want a little something, etc. It seems a little inconsiderate to not at least check to see if you wanted something, whether you're expected to pay for yourself or not.

But then again, I'm a white chick, so...

More {{{ }}}.