Our House Go Up In Flames

I was home visiting for the summer when my parents decided to go to San Diego for the weekend to celebrate my dad’s birthday.  Now according to the movies I’ve seen this is the perfect opportunity to throw a raging high school party, but when you have 3 younger siblings left in your charge and live in a shithole, such cannot be done.  Also, my sister’s friend’s parents were out of town and he was already throwing a party that night.  We had been planning on attending his shin-dig and so were somewhat upset upon hearing that our parents would be leaving us with the responsibility of caring for their kids.  Our aunt, knowing the importance of underage drinking, offered to take the youngins off our hands for the evening.  They’d be sleeping at her house so we were free to get as wasted and stay out as late as we wanted.  Having just completed my first year of college I was now a seasoned drinker and intended to show these high school kids just how it’s done. So we shuttled the children to my aunts house, groomed ourselves to the party-appropriate level, and arrived at the gathering fashionably late.

Immediately I began consuming everything offered me. Thus I attained a sufficient state of inebriation and began talking way too much to anyone who would listen. During my mingling, my cousin decided to get into a fight with some guy about god knows what, because what’s a high school party without a good amount of drama? My sister, quite the drama queen herself, approached me in a huffy to inform me of recent events. She was dragging my cousin along with her, his hand dripping with blood. “We have to clean him up and take him home.” She informed me. “Okay,” I said, “but I can’t drive.” I had driven us to the party but immediately forgot my responsibilities upon the first sighting of booze. “I figured!” She answered totally bitchy. “I can drive.” I tried to argue, persuade her not to as I assumed everyone else was as drunk as I. She assured me that she only had one drink and was completely sober, so I gave up and followed her to the car. A few other friends/party guests piled in as well; I guess they wanted to see what would happen next. We arrived at my house, cleaned and bandaged my cousin’s hand, dropped him off at his place of residence, and then returned to the party.

A few hours later, about 3am, we decided it was time we called it a night. Again my sister drove. I sat in the front seat wearing a baseball cap (that I had stolen from some random guy as was my custom at that stage) backward on my head. As we turned into our cul-de- sac we noticed flashing lights and several fire engines. My sister turned to me “what should we do? It doesn’t look like they’re letting cars through.” I tried to focus on her, swaying in my drunkenness. “Its probably one of those damn old neighbors” I finally spit out. “Let’s go get some food and water and hopefully when we get back they’ll be gone.” So we drove-thru the closest fast food restaurant that was open and returned to our home street. Nothing had changed.

We sat there parked at the beginning of the cul-de-sac unsure what to do when a fireman approached us. “Hello, I’m Captain Morgan” he introduced himself. I couldn’t help but smile thinking of his contribution to my current state. “Do you live down here?” he asked. “Yes just a few houses down” I answered. He surveyed us, “which of you is older?” he asked. I raised my hand. He nodded toward my sister, “oh, then why is she driving?” Though I’m sure it was pretty obvious, I tried to answer anyway, “Er…well…she’s a better driver…?” I smiled. He looked us over one more time. “Any chance you guys have two dogs and a pool?” We nodded. “Yup that’s the house that caught on fire” he continued nonchalant. I looked to my sister and gasped, the size of her eyes mirrored mine. We asked him to repeat himself, hoping that we had misunderstood, but he only confirmed: there was a fire in our house. We informed him that our parent’s were out of town for the weekend, and though we were essentially “in charge” in their absence our younger sisters were staying with our aunt.

I was far too drunk to deal with this, and my sister far too emotional. So we left towards our aunt’s house, hoping that she would know what to do. We called her and relayed what we had just heard; she told us she’d be waiting for us to pick her up. Being both drunk and in shock, I don’t remember getting to her house or the drive back home. But when we returned to the scene of the blaze, there was quite the crowd gathered around. Not only had our neighbors awoken to see what the ruckus was about, but my sister had also informed her friends about what had happened and it seemed that the entire school had shown up to see the events unfold. The firefighters gave my aunt an account of the occurrence—it seemed to be an electrical fire that started in the bathroom. We had a wall heater at the time and apparently in the excitement of trying to repair my cousin’s hand someone had accidentally switched it on and not noticed, thus leaving it on after we had left the premises. As luck would have it, there happened to be a pile of towels near enough to the heater to catch flame. This of course would all be realized later; at the time all we knew was that our home had been destroyed because of a fire that seemed to have originated in the bathroom.

The fire-fighters allowed us to enter the house to get anything that we felt necessary—a couple turtles, fish, and a hamster that wouldn’t be able to endure the smoke that still lingered throughout the house. Upon entering I immediately felt sick. The combination of the alcohol I had consumed, the thick smoke that hung throughout the house, and the sight of what was once my home was almost too much too handle. I quickly grabbed what I could and ran out of the house gagging. My sister also couldn't spend much time inside and was standing on the lawn in tears. My aunt assured us that all would be well and we called our parents to inform them of the events as she drove us to her place to sleep.

When we awoke the next morning nearly the entire family was gathered at my aunt’s house discussing the events of the previous evening. My parents decided that it would be best to attempt to get a night’s sleep before driving back home, so they were not yet there. My younger sisters awoke confused, asking how their pets had come to arrive at my aunt’s house and why everyone else was there so early. Not knowing how to break the news, we evaded their questions and told them not to worry about it. My older sister who lived with my grandparents awoke in the morning to find a text message that my sister had sent at 3:30am saying “our house go up in flames call us.” As it was the beginning of July she assumed that we drunkenly had a pre-Independence Day firework show, and picked up the land-line to give us a ring. Upon putting the telephone to her ear she heard my grandfather shouting “what do you mean their house caught on fire?!”

Needless to say, my parents haven’t taken a trip since.

Year End Letter

Dearest Friends,

Its been a busy and exciting year in the Porter household. Our eldest three daughters continue to bring us pride and joy each day. First off, our 24 year old, beat down by the big city, came crawling home from New York in February. She remains unemployed, perched on our couch drunk. Boy, are we glad to have her back! Our third born (23) graduated college in June and currently waits tables at The Olive Garden. She too still lives at home, and in her spare time enjoys participating in the occasional bar brawl. Then August brought us the arrest of our oldest daughter (27). She is currently facing 2 felony charges. We look forward to the trial that awaits us in the New Year.

Our younger 3 daughters are doing just as great. The fourth born, ever the fan of marijuana has moved on to stronger substances and has even begun a career in sales. Rehab is just around the corner! Our 17 year old has been bouncing around between high schools, received several new body piercings, and she too has been dabbling in the world of drugs. The baby (15) has spent the past year keeping up with The OC, One Tree Hill, Gossip Girl, and The Hills among others. She aspires to become a Playboy Bunny.

Despite the menopausal mood swings, Mom continues to manage the household, all while struggling through math courses to complete her AA. Papa too continues to keep the house in order by providing both discipline and sound advice. As he says, "There is a fine line between respect and violence. If you want your kids to respect you, you gotta use violence."

We continue to receive daily greetings from banks and creditors. And just a few weeks ago, the roof collapsed in our kitchen during a rainstorm. This has forced us to remove the lovely maroon carpet and we expect to install a proper kitchen floor within the next five years!

It has been a wonderful year indeed, and we hope you all are doing as well as we.

Warm wishes for the holiday season,
The Porters

Star Struck (Part 1)

I like to think that I’m the sort of person who doesn’t get caught up in all the celebrity bullshit. I couldn’t care less who stole who’s husband, who doesn’t wear underwear, who’s sporting a “baby bump,” or whatever other crap is plastered on the covers of gossip magazines that solicit us in the checkout lines of grocery stores. I’ve sold wine to TV personalities without flipping my lid, I’ve spotted musicians at restaurants without feeling the need to fawn over them, and the time a certain drugged out Hollywood starlet said “hey” to me in a bar bathroom I nodded casually and walked out. Basically, I’m cool. But the fact of the matter is that I have been star struck 3 times in my life…all by the same person.

Our first encounter took place at a Bright Eyes show in March of 2007. I had been looking forward to the show for well over a month and had hopes of standing in the front row to watch Conor Oberst in all his glory. So imagine my disappointment when my sister's friend, from whom she was getting her ticket, didn't arrive until 8:30 (doors were at 7). Upon entering the packed El Rey any remaining hopes of a "good spot" were shattered, so I promptly headed to the bar to begin coping. Then we took up stance toward the back of the theater next to the aisle

As I was sipping on my beer casually listening to the opening band I noticed Michael Runion walk passed me down the aisle. Being aware of his affiliation with Rilo Kiley/Jenny Lewis I pointed him out to my sister and joked that Jenny Lewis herself may also be in attendance. My hopeful suspicions were then heightened upon sightings of some of her other associates: M. Ward, Johnathan Rice, and even Blake Sennett! Mr. Rice passed me and then stopped just a few feet behind us where he joined some friends in the crowd. Being a fan of his music as well, I was intrigued by his presence and looked back a few minutes later just to be sure it was really him.

Upon turning around to catch another glimpse I spotted standing beside him a short, red-headed woman engaged in conversation. Shocked and excited, I turned to my sister, "is that…” dare I say it, “…Jenny Lewis?!" She glanced behind us and confirmed that it was in fact my idol. At this point I felt about ready to have a heart attack because JENNY FUCKING LEWIS was standing less than 15 feet away from me! I continuously turned around throughout the show, because how could I not look? Noticing me totally geeking out, my sister advised me to calm down and pay attention to the show. First of all, the band that we had payed to see was playing. Second, and more importantly, if continued, my frequent peeps may be discovered by the object of my gaze; which is a bit creepy in and of itself, but adding to the creepy-stalker vibe, I also happened to be wearing a Jenny Lewis T-shirt.
   
So I returned my attention to the musical genius of Mr. Oberst for a while, but couldn’t help but steal a glance back just a while later. This time, however, Ms. Lewis was gone.  I turned to my sister and with great disappointment, informed her of the new development.  She told me to casually go to the bathroom, checking the lobby on my way to see if they had migrated there. So I exited the theater and sure enough, Jenny, Johnathan, and the whole crew were huddled near the lobby bar. I continued past them into the bathroom, so as to seem like I was not stalking her.

After taking a minute in the bathroom to compose myself I returned to the lobby trying to muster up enough courage to approach Ms. Lewis. As I entered she broke away from her friends and headed toward the door.  She was alone and this was my opportunity. I took a deep breath and prepared to walk toward her, but just as I was about to take my first step I saw her wave to a woman entering the venue and they began to converse. At this point I was only about 4 feet way, but was feeling discouraged; I considered giving up and returning to the show. But just as I was about to turn around a thought struck me: this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, what would my friends say when they found out that I hadn’t taken advantage of it? I had to do this. So I stood there awkwardly waiting.

Less than a minute later Jenny turned to walk back to her friends and spotted my shirt: Born Secular –Jenny Lewis. Here she pointed at me and exclaimed "whoa!" then took a step closer. Oh my god, Jenny Lewis is talking to me! My head was reeling and I was so extremely nervous—I mean, I have trouble talking to normal people and suddenly I had found myself in the presence of a goddess! With the biggest, nerdiest grin on my face I attempted to cover my shirt and replied, voice shaking, "I'm so embarrassed that I'm wearing this right now."

"Why? That’s so cool." she returned. "This is embarrassing, I feel so dorky" I repeated with my hands still across my chest. She placed her hand on my shoulder, "No, that’s so cool, that’s so sweet." she smiled. Then there was a brief second of awkward silence as we stood staring at each other. "Well, uh, i-it-its really nice t-t-to mee...” I attempt to stammer out, when staring at my shirt she again stated, "that’s really sweet."

"I-I'm a huge fan" I said feeling a bit more confident now. "What’s your name?" she asked putting out her hand. I answered. "Mine's Jenny." We shook. "See it says it right there" she continued as she put her finger to my shirt. Oh my God she touched my breast! "I know!" I exclaimed, still in total disbelief that I was actually speaking with Jenny Lewis! "So, any news about the new Rilo Kiley record?" I asked trying so hard to sound cool, collected, and normal, despite the burning in my cheeks reminding me that I looked anything but. "Uh…we're finishing it up" she responded cryptically. "So still no release date or are you keeping it a secret?" I so lamely and dorkily (so much so that it requires I make up adverbs) tried to joke. "No, no. We're working on it, trying to finish" she smiled again. "Cool," I responded as I decided to let her free, "well…thanks for being so nice." I think I may have even touched her shoulder at this point.  She simply laughed, shrugged, and said "Dude!" Then we went our separate ways.

Following our conversation I re-entered the theater with the largest smile on my face. I had to immediately brag to my sister that I had in fact met The Jenny Lewis, who touched my boob, called me “dude,” and said I was sweet, thus making my life complete.

Ode to Potatoes

Potatoes are delicious

they make me feel so full

and they're cost efficient

without them I don't know what I'd do

Baked, fried, roasted, mashed

when I'm sober or when I'm trashed

Russet, red, Yukon Gold

Hot out the oven, the next morning cold

Lightly flavored or seasoned bold

Potatoes you rock!

The Pros and Cons of Living at Home

Several months ago I had the great misfortune of moving back into my parent's house. It has been quite an experience, so I decided to make a list of the pros and cons:

Pro: My dad always has beer in the fridge 

Con: He gets angry when people drink his beer

Pro: I have younger siblings on whom to blame the missing beer

Pro: My pothead sisters smoke me out all the time

Con: It’s really awkward and unsettling to be high around my parents

Pro: My dad pays for munchies

Pro: I don’t have to buy my own groceries or cook my own meals

Con: Meals tend to be meat-based

Pro: I get drunk easier on an empty stomach

Con: I have to help my mom with her homework

Pro: I get compensated in wine

Con: My father gives me daily lectures about my alcoholism

Con: My parents treat me like a child
Pro: I'm taking this opportunity to relive my youth in a more exciting and rebellious manner
Con: As a result my parents hate me

Pro: The parents give me gas money

Con: I have to drive their kids everywhere

Pro: I finally have a reliable internet connection

Con: My computer-incompetent father constantly asks me to look up random crap

Pro: My many sisters keep me entertained

Con: I sleep on a trundle bed in my 15 year old sister’s room

Pro: Every day I am forced to engage in conversation and be social 

Con: Every day I am forced to engage in conversation and be social

Two, In Case One Dies

It was our second day on the resort in Cancun, the first real day of our vacation as the previous day consisted mostly of traveling and getting settled in our rooms. The air was humid and the sun was beating down hard on our pale, sun-deprived bodies. To keep cool we spent most of the day floating in the ocean. We had intertubes so that our bottoms were submerged in the crisp clear water, but our faces and arms at liberty to enjoy the free drinks. It was still early, not quite 1:00, so I had just begun sipping my third beverage.

Surprisingly, my father had managed to become quite inebriated at such an early an hour. He is not much of a drinker so I was not expecting this by any means. He's a chatty feller in any case, but alcohol seems to escalate his loquaciousness. Unaware of his current state I mistakenly floated into his vicinity, and that’s when it happened. He cornered me, right there in the middle of the Gulf. I don’t know how it is possible to corner someone in the middle of an ocean, but this guy is good--he has a presence that is impossible to escape. Immediately he began to lecture me on life, work, and most importantly, success. "It doesn't matter what you do in life, just make sure you're the best at it. I don't care if you dig holes for a living, if you're best goddamn hole-digger around you're gonna get hired and you're gonna make good money. The key is to get yourself educated,” he advised me. He then went on to extol the benefits of education, “you went college, you have the power to do anything you want now. Once you have that degree you can get any job out there, you won’t have to work too hard and you’ll still earn a great living.”

This guy was killing the small buzz I had managed to acquire and I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I should have agreed with him in hopes that he would release me, but irritated by the forced interaction and his complete ignorance (and perhaps more affected by the alcohol than I had thought), I instead found myself contradicting him. “Well, actually a bachelor’s degree doesn’t hold the same weight that it used to,” I began. “And to be honest, I’m not opposed to hard work. Plus, I have no real desire to earn an excessive amount of money. I’d just like to have enough to support a comfortable, simple lifestyle…and burgeoning drinking habit” I added with a smile.

This angered him, “you’re young, you don’t know what you want!” He argued. “Just think of all you could afford with a high paying job. Hell, you can have a condo on the beaches of Cancun!” I looked at him annoyed and puzzled, hadn’t I just informed him that I had no desire for such extravagances? But he didn’t notice me and went on to devise a plan for his own escape into life on the beaches of Mexico. Slowly he moved his head back and forth surveying the shore. "I'm looking around at all these people working hard on this resort" he started. "You've got the waitresses walking around in the hot sun getting people drinks, the jet-ski men tuning up the jet ski’s, the boat drivers taking people parasailing. All these people working hard, and you know who's making the most money?” I shook my head indicating that I was not aware. “The man walking around the beach with that goddamn iguana!” He answered. “People are willing to pay an arm and a leg to get their picture taken with a goddamn iguana. I'm gonna buy a goddamn iguana! Hell, I'm gonna get two, in case one dies!" Then with a smile and in a tone of conviction, "that's what I'm gonna do, get myself two iguanas and move to Mexico."

Baffled by his soliloquy, I stared out toward the shore speechless and praying that he was through. I saw that my sisters were still splashing around in the tide. Upon seeing me stuck in conversation with my father they had been thrown into fits of laughter. Now finally able to compose themselves they recognized my anguish and called out to me, “come on, we’re going to the swim-up bar!” Thank God, I needed a fucking drink after that.