A Guide to Life for the Disenfranchised and Counterrevolutionary
an excerpt

"I'm ooooold!”

Which was definitely one of the weirder things to wake up to. Not, for some reason, the weirdest thing I've ever woken up to. That involved a few chickens, a box of cereal, and copious Silence of the Lambs quotes.

...this was back when my older brother still lived at the house. Before he moved in with his common-law-wife, his best friend, and his wife's older brother in that apartment downtown. The one that I try not to visit too much, because I am reminded of Utah.

“I'm old! Ancient! Decrepit! I am Bea Arthur!” the screams continued, wailing into the night. Or, well, morning. It sounded like my dad wasn't going to shut up, so I decided that getting up might be a viable plan.

Some people spend a lot of time waking up, and getting ready for the day – especially on the first day of school. I spend the same amount of time as normal: I roll out of bed, put on whichever clothes are nearby, and wander downstairs. Most of the time, without ever opening my eyes. But because it was the first day of school – the first day of my high school career – I went into the bathroom and actually styled my hair.

By the time I got downstairs, Dad had flung himself across the table (not the dining room table, but the table we actually use) and was wailing. Max, my dad's boyfriend, was sitting at the head of the table, calmly reading a motorcycle magazine. Auggie was staring at Dad in that blank, vaguely sociopathic way he has. Oly was... nowhere to be seen.5

“Morning Max, Auggie, Bea. We got any Captain Crunch left?”

Dad actually stopped wailing long enough to glower at me, and bite his thumb at me.

“Look for yourself,” said Max, whose sense of humanity has been severely impacted by living with my dad for nearly a decade.

There was, indeed, still a bowl's worth of Cap'n Crunch. I soon returned to the table with the bowl (plus milk! And cereal!) and a can of ginger ale. A few bites in, I finally gave into the curiosity. “So, Dad, what made you realize that you're older than dirt?”

“We received our invites to the twenty year reunion today,” Max said calmly, carefully and artistically tearing various pages in the magazine. “Here, Auggie, run this back over to the Hydes' place, would you?” he added, offering the now-completed magazine.

Auggie gave him a long, long look, before taking the magazine and sloooowly walking away. Max, his monthly task complete, pulled his boyfriend off the table and sat him in a chair. Like he was human. Max is quite hilarious that way.

“I love that it's this letter that makes you realize your age, not the fact that there are children who run around and call you 'grandpa',” I commented through a spoonful of colorful sugar cereal. Dad mouthed 'vacuum' at me, and Max gave me a disapproving look. Which, really, I hoped he was joking about, because come on. That's not even half as bad as anything he lets Dad get away with. And aren't parents supposed to think the antics of their children are adorable, and those of their spouses are worthy of disapproval?