Congratulations on Vomiting On One Of Your In-Laws!

You loathe visiting your In-Laws. The insufferably successful doctor mother and the functional, present dad who works in an indistinct but non-threatening and secure field of employment just rub your face in how colossally fucked your family is. Your wife, bless her heart, totally gets it and gives you a lot of leeway during these unfortunate visits regarding the amount of weed you can smoke.

Unfortunately recent crackdown efforts on the part of The Man have lead to difficulties in both acquiring and transporting your weed. After one of those TSA dipshits rummages through your bag and bogarts your weed you’re going to arrive at your hellish in-law’s house with no weed, an increased stress level and a spouse who is fearing that you’ll be incarcerated by some square who took a two week training course.

It’ll set the whole weekend off to a poor start. After a brief, awkward conversation where those self-righteous fucks express joy at seeing you and ask with legitimate interest how your year has been you’ll be out the door and on your way to the nearest and shittiest bar which, thanks to blue laws pock marking New England, is a twenty minute drive away.

You’ll pound a dozen shots and race home as quickly as humanly possible so as to “race the liquor” and return home before you feel of the liquor. You’ll make it, but just barely, so you’ll start to lose it in the driveway of your In-Law’s home. You’ll briefly fumble with the door handle before losing consciousness as blessed mother alcohol takes thought away from you.

This would be just dandy if your cunt of a mother-in-law could just leave you be, but no. Tomorrow when she goes to get the mail she’s going to see you breathing shallowly in your car, alone and apparently drunk and she’ll rush over to make sure you aren’t dead. When she cracks open the door you’ll get a little bit of a rush of cold air, which will feel great. But then she’ll lay her hands on you which will completely turn your stomach.

Your body will respond reflexively, projectile vomiting roughly a quart of bile and part of a taco on to her cord knit sweater. She’ll be all good natured about it and take you inside to get you some water and let you lie down somewhere where you can’t be arrested for “intent to drive under the influence” but you’ll sort of catch her eye with yours when one of your swollen lids edges open and you’ll see that she looks a little disappointed.

If you were more sober you’d ask if she was disappointed in you, your wife, or herself, but you won’t have any energy for pithy rejoinders. You’ll just groan and hold on to the woman you hate for dear life.

Congratulations on Vomiting On One Of Your In-Laws!