And you insisted on a woman's part. That's what hurts.
Mom, look, you guys used to be married. Can’t you do something?
What? I think it’s cute that he’s involving himself. It’s more than he did while we were married, I can tell you that.
He just used the phrase I fancy myself a bit of a thespian. I mean, getting drunk and hitting on the waitress at my sixteenth birthday dinner was bad, but this is worse, somehow.
Life is long, dear. If this is as bad as it gets–and I can’t imagine that it will be–you should count yourself very lucky.
I mean, I have to see these people again. Tomorrow he’s back to pimping tract homes in Newark, and I’m still here.
Here, but be discreet about it.
Is this booze?
It helps. Believe me when I say it helps.
Good god, what is that?
Vodka, of course. You can barely smell it on the breath after a stick of gum. Here.
This tastes like my childhood smelled.
Exactly.
You were bombed throughout my entire childhood.
Bombed? I wouldn’t say bombed. Don’t be so hyperbolic. Say instead “slightly mellowed.”
I just didn’t know you were a lush, that’s all.
Maybe you should join your father up there on the stage, little miss drama queen.
