A family friend came with her son and daughter to visit us last week. Also visiting were a couple of my sister's friends, one of which now lives in France, and as such, rarely visits. We ate some lovely mushroom stew my father made. It really was quite delicious.
The son of the family friend is a quiet boy the grade under me in school. He's quite nice, and is cultivating quite the jewfro. Actually, it may be a mexifro, as his father was born in Argentina, but his father is Jewish as well as Argentinian, confusing matters all the more.
The point here is, he has lovely large hair.
I was seated next to him during the meal, and occasionally rubbed his head, to which he responded by laughing when his mother shot me odd glances. He wasn;t so bothered, but eventually
Family Friend: Josh, why don't you bother the girls? It's weird, bothering boys.
Her Son: Ma, it's fine.
Me: Do any of the girls have such lovely hair?
Later
FF: Josh, look at FrenchGirl, look how pretty she is! Bother her!
Right-o.
Later on:
FF: Now Josh, remember: Don't do drugs. Don't drink!
My Dad: And don't have sex, and don't drive! Not all at once, at least!
Her Son: *Snort*
Later, I hear her talking to my father
FF: Is he always like this?
My Dad: Some little explanation thingie
FF: Oh, I hear a lot of artists are like that.
I've got an artistic temperament, wouldn'tchaknow. Just need to figure out the actual art bit.
By the end of the evening, I felt like some sort of cross between George Michael and Iggy Pop. I proved my manliness to myself later on by showing clips from the Story of Ricky to her son.
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