How I Met Your Mother's Two and a Half Men's Big Bang Theory...

Sometimes I have moments in my life where I swear I'm being filmed for some sort of second-rate sit-com (hence the title). And just in case this blog outlives me and/or people don't know what I mean, I intend to provide documentation. Therefore, as stories come to mind I thought I'd provide them as episodes of my own crappy little life.



Here's what I mean...



Episode 1: "Home Sweet yet Uncomfortable Home"



When I was preparing to study abroad to England I was told that part of the program required a weekend home visit with an actual English family. At first I became incredibly nervous. Granted it's not a terribly foreign country, but I was already feeling the high-school fear of making friends but add on top a heaping pile of spending-a-weekend-with-a-bunch-of-strangers-that-are-forced-to-feed-and-shelter-me. But when I was told that often people are paired off to one family I was able to relax. I figured, as bad as it could be at least I wouldn't suffer alone.

As time went on I kept hoping that by some overlook they would forget all about the visit. But, of course, they didn't and the day arrived.

We all gathered outside where the buses usually were. I stood around with my friends and soon the families began arriving. I noticed younger parents and some hip looking 30 and 40 yr olds. I began to think maybe the weekend wouldn't be too bad. Little by little my fellow students were picked away until I was standing alone. I stood holding my pathetic little backpack as it got darker and darker. I felt like an orphan waiting for my new family to come get me and they forgot the date. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, watching the program directors go back and forth to figure out what was happening, and hoping that I might be able to just go back to my tiny shoebox dorm room a small station wagon finally pulled up. And out popped a gray-haired couple. My hope of a pair of party-goers quickly evaporated.

I joined them into their car and we actually made pleasant conversation. She was originally from Brittany, a small region of northwestern France with alot of connections to England (the name translated means "small Britain" I think she said). Actually, the husband didn't talk too much, which is fine but it just added extra pressure on me and the wife. Fortunately, she was talkative, just not really for anything about me. She kept telling me about their last student-visitor who was a singer. I told her about how I was an aspiring writer or teacher or whatever to try and compete with that (which didn't totally work). Instead I decided to take the role of talk-show host and just sputter out question after question like a damn computer survey (which did work).

They turned in around 9, but being in Friday Night mode I didn't feel tired so I stayed up until nearly 2 a.m. watching TV.

The next day they dropped me back into the town to meet up with the group for a tour of the city's castle. I felt pangs of intense jealousy as I listened to my friends regale in their experiences--some were near pubs and went out with their families, others stayed in and drank. Everyone was having spring break, meanwhile I was having a visit with my foreign grandparents.

Afterwards, they picked me back up and we went out to dinner. We were having a nice time actually, but when a lull in the conversation hit I reached for my conversational Ace: I asked them how they met. Figuring that most couples, especially elderly ones, LOVE telling young folks about when they were young and in love, I thought I had just opened the door to a good couple of hours of conversation. Instead, you'd think I just tossed a dead rat into their Yorkshire puddings. They exchanged glances, she told a quick little story and then briskly changed the subject. We barely recovered but thankfully it was towards the end of the dinner. We headed home and I had another late-night TV watching session before heading to bed around 1.

Finally it was Sunday. And one of the things they advised us to bring to our families was a gift from our hometown. Being from the Jersey shore I thought salt-water taffy would be nice. I wanted to shoot myself in the foot as I handed these poor folks a big box of pull-your-teeth-out candy. They were nice enough, saying they'd give some (or I'm sure all) of it to their kids and grandkids.

As they drove me back to the school and we said our goodbyes, I couldn't say it was terrible. They were kind and hospitable, certainly nice enough. I'll never forget them for that (and the fact they taught me about Brittany and proved that Fate has a sense of humor). And I wanted to believe they'd remember me as well as that singer. But more likely I'm gonna be like that taffy...something sweet that lingers for a while yet a bit difficult to swallow.