Today's Not Top Ten List: Moving in with Your Parents

I was originally going to write this post on "Why Pop Culture Matters", but I decided against it because I didn't want to become the Scream 4 of this blog and, well...that would be so meta. (But it will be coming up soon, I promise.) So I decided to go with the single most defining aspect of my life right now: My Parents.

Now, this isn't the "I-love-my-parents-and-here-is-my-paean-to-how-they-raised-me" post (although it is true that I do love my parents [btw, we need to get footnotes like Grantland]). That wouldn't really reflect how life is right now, so it would be wrong to merely write about all the great things. So I decided to do 5 good things, 5 bad things, one after another. Just like the Facts of Life, I'm gonna take the good and the bad and realize what I always had...a pretty good life when all is said and done.

So without further ado, my quasi-Top Ten List about living with my parents:

1) Good: My mom makes my lunch.

The last thing I do before I groggily leave my home for work in the morning is reach into the fridge and pull out a grocery bag with what I presume to be my lunch. I rarely, if ever, take a peek to see what's inside. (It has just now occurred to me that my mom could put rocks in tupperware and I'd probably still take it. Your move, Mom.) So, the biggest surprise of the whole day is usually when I sit down for lunch in the office break room and I untie the bag to reveal the actual contents of my lunch. You see, this is a great moment because my mom rarely just packs the usual sandwich, chips, and fruit. She goes all out for dinner and then carries it over to lunch, usually in the form of leftovers. Smoked chicken, pasta of all varieties, and sliced fruit are usually in order. One time, I made it to the office with a miniature Thanksgiving Dinner. I would most likely hate my life if it weren't for the life-sustaining and soul-lifting meals packed away in layers of plastic. And the best part of all of this is that I don't have to lift a finger for any of it. I wake up in the morning and it's just there. Like my own personal manna from heaven. Except more meat.

2) Bad: My mom makes my lunch.

Unfortunately, this seems to also be one of the highlights of the day for my coworkers.

I am the only American in an office full of Germans. While this sounds like a scene in Saving Private Ryan, it's ok guys. I speak (near) fluent German and we all get along pretty well. However, the only time I butt heads with them is at lunchtime, because they cannot seem to let the fact go that I don't make my own lunch. Ok, so I'm not a German 4,000 some-odd miles away from my parents. I don't live in foreign country surrounded with people that think I'm a walking WWII stereotype. I'm not closing in on 30 with almost a decade of work experience behind me. I don't roll my own cigarettes. And I don't make my own lunch. Which makes me less of an adult, apparently.

Before I even open my lunch, I'll hear, "So what has mama packed for you today?" (Or my personal favorite: My mom would write my name on my bag to help keep track of it among my siblings' lunches in the fridge. I asked her to stop. My ever-vigilant coworker opines, "Oh your name isn't written on it? How did you know it wasn't yours? ). Nevermind that I made my own goddamn breakfast, lunch and dinner for 4 goddamn years. And pretty good ones too! Ask, my co-editor, Ryan. I was always cooking for them at The Orchid. But in the end, I get the last laugh because I'll call them old and German and they'll shut up for a bit. Then they'll say I'm a kid again and we'll repeat the whole process until lunch is over (World War II it is not).

3) Good: I skip out on rent and utilities.

This is probably the most obvious thing about living with your 'rents. There is no rent. There are no utilities. In fact, thanks to automatic withdrawls, I no longer remember what a bill looks like. Unfortunately, I have to pay a small mortgage in gas to get to work, but I guess things could be worse. So, I get to enjoy free HD TV with premium movie and sports channels while I check facebook on my iPhone. All thanks to the largesse (?) of my parents. Just call me GOB Bluth.

4) Bad: I live in The Woodlands

Now, for most people, this sounds like a great problem to have. They would say, "Great homes, great schools, great shopping, trails, parks. What more could you want?" And to them I would say, "What the hell?! Are you 45 with a wife and kids?!" The Woodlands proper has 2 bars. Count 'em. Two. Both of them are filled to the brim with yuppies and overpriced drinks (funny how the two seem to go hand in hand). Unless you feel like dropping a Jackson for a meal, if you dine out, it's most likely going to come from a chain (We have TGI Fridays and Chili's within two minutes of each other). Now, I'm not exactly the world's most hipster or alternative guy. I don't have any tattoos or piecings, but I do enjoy a vibrant neighborhood with decent nightlife. After going to the Free Press Summerfest (aka, The "Houston can be just as cool as Austin. Really guys, I mean it" Festival) near Midtown, I can say that The Woodlands has none of these. Just like Sufjan said once about Detroit, The Woodlands is shaping up to be once a great place, now a prison.

5) Good: My dog, Sammy

Enough said.


Well, because I'm lazy, the last half of this list will appear tomorrow. Or otherwise call me Tyler Womack.

-Nick These guys absolutely killed it at the Free Press Summerfest. I don't care what you say about electronic(ish) music.