My morbid curiosity about my Dad’s current mid life crisis was by far the main reason to go home for Thanksgiving.  This shit never fails to disappoint.  My sister actually talked him into flying me out last minute at an astronomical price so they wouldn’t have to spend Thanksgiving alone together in his giant, empty house.  “Perry, you HAVE to come.  It’s going to be so awkward.”

For those of you who are new, my Dad is an eccentric millionaire.  He has way more money than he needs, and spends it on really weird stuff like a $20,000 dinner table and a quarter million dollar finger painting.  Recently, his wife found his “other” cellphone with certain naked pictures, and they are getting divorced.  As he plunged deeper into this mid life crisis, he has surrounded himself at home with sports cars and barely legal Hooters waitresses.  One of my stipulations for accepting his plane ticket was that I got to drive the Lamborghini.  I figure if I’m not going to have an inheritance, I may as well enjoy driving around in it.

I flew back and got some breaking news from my sister: “Dad decided to have Thanksgiving with a 23 year old.  We can either spend it at a bar or Debbie’s house. (his soon to be ex-wife)”  This is just one example from a vast array of how fucked up our family is.  Do you know how weird seemed being invited to spend Thanksgiving, being the son and daughter of the man who royally just fucked over this woman, at her new house, while he spends it with a 23 year old Hooters waitress? 

It was awesome, and we had a total blast.  We reminisced about the shit-show that was Thanksgiving last year, after which my 17 year old step-sister threw up all morning into a zip lock bag at the airport because she was so hungover.  I got to spend some time with my 12 year old sister, who, up until the divorce, led a blissful, charmed life.  I gave her a handshake and told her that now she was now “officially a Perry” and that the feelings of guilt and entitlement were the most effective weapons against our father.

After dinner we went over to see my Dad and hang out for a little bit.  His wife took a lot of the furniture, and he decided to do his own decorating, so we did a tour of the house.  The dining room that had been previously been bright and filled with lively art now looked, in a word, sinister.  He asked what we thought.  It was now much darker, with evil looking chairs and large candelas.  “…Were you trying to make it look haunted?”  My sister summoned us to the next room and asked why he had a bowl full of rose pedals next to one of the chairs.  “Dad, that’s so gross, and weird.”  Little did she know what was to come.

Besides those other two rooms nothing else had furniture in it.  We walked upstairs to the master suite, which was just God damn creepy.  My sister quickly nicknamed it the “Sex Trap.”  He laid on a little couch by the fireplace and said, “I used to have to run down three flights of stairs to get a bottle of wine to enjoy by the fireplace.  Now I have that.”  He pointed to a wine cooler and rack. My sister shuddered.  I walked over to the nightstand where he had a framed picture of a pretty nasty girl,

“Dad, please, please tell me you’re not hooking up with her.”  She was busted.  Not only were they hooking up, but he had her nasty asss picture in front of two rows of candles that provide perfect lighting to jerk off.  He told me not to worry because she was married.  How the fuck was that supposed to make me worry less?  Honsetly, I wouldn’t even fuck this type of girl when I was wasted. 

 The second reason I came back was to drive his new cars.  I mean, if I’m not going to have an inheritance, I might as well drive around in it.  His newest acquisitions, his newest children, are an Aston Martin and a Lambroghini Gelardo.  We’re not allowed to talk loud around them.  We’re not supposed to look them in the eye. 

Indeed, it would, because he is currently neck deep in a midlife crisis a full order of magnitude larger than the one he had when he divorced my mom. 

If I’m not going to get an inheritance, I might as well drive around in it. 

Thanksgiving last year:

http://www.intelligenthumor.com/adventuresofperry/index.php?aid=773

24000 table

http://www.intelligenthumor.com/adventuresofperry/index.php?aid=168

quarter million painting

http://www.intelligenthumor.com/adventuresofperry/index.php?aid=603

subaru