Hold My Beer, I Lost My Keys: How to have dinner with parents

Columns November 20, 2019

Having dinner with your parents is like sitting across the table from a firing squad armed with questions about your past, present, and future. To survive, you have to be focused and quick on your feet. You can’t be shooting from the hip with evasive news like “Elizabeth’s pregnant!” This is the first time they’re hearing of Elizabeth and they’re sure to open an investigation and interrogation to get to the bottom of this story. It’s only a matter of time before they find out you’re talking about the season finale of The Blacklist.

Lucky for you, your wise mentor has some sage advice on how to tread the awkward small talk and punishing dad jokes! 

Hold My Beer, I Lost My Keys is a column dealing with issues around growing up (photo provided).

First, you’re going to want to put on your Sunday best and pick somewhere nice to eat, some place that will demonstrate to your beloved parents that you have impeccable taste. Let’s say Big Bad John’s. Surely they’ve never seen so many bras in one place before and are bound to be impressed by the sheer culture.

I recommend ordering modestly, as everybody knows that they’re footing the bill. You don’t want them to think you’re taking advantage of them. Go with the 8oz steak instead of the 12oz and maybe order something from the drink specials, like the vanilla sunrise martini, which is marked down from $22 to a more-than-affordable $18.

This is where they light you up with a hailstorm of questions. What you need to do is blindside them by openly bragging about your awesome life! Brag about how you finally paid off that credit card you maxed out while buying Scrabble scratch tickets or how you’ve evaded your phone bill this month by faking your own death and changing your name to Johnny Kuklinski and they should get used to it because you’ll be damned if you’re going to pay $3.49 in overage charges.

You can tell them all about that exciting new business venture you’re started with Scam-a-U, where you only had to make an initial payment of $1,499.99 for membership and then recruit two of your friends to sell discount zip ties. Your mentor says you’ll be making over $50,000 a year, which is a lot more incentive to find friends than you’ve had in a while!

Oh, the server’s back! What are we thinking, Mom and Dad? Dessert? And, also, can I move back in again?