My Mommy Is The Best!

What did she get me for Valentine’s Day? A greeting card? No. Candy? No. Why? She knows the only way to my heart is a $50 Chipotle gift card. That’ll last me until easily Monday.

Why My Dad Is Awesome

You know how some fathers and sons have trouble understanding one another? Not a problem with me and my pops. What was his parting advice for me as I left for France? “Son, stay out of the casino.” Was he worried that I have an uncontrollable gambling problem? Nope! “Remember, in French blackjack the dealer takes his second card after you! This decreases your odds significantly (because any extra money that one wagers on a double down or a split is lost if the dealer gets a black jack), you’ll lose, so don’t be tempted even if you feel lucky! Just wait until your next trip to Vegas.” Now that’s effective communication! Demonstrating mathematically that I will in all likelihood lose money and green lighting another Vegas trip in the future: well played, Dad!

My Dad: he’s a great, very intelligent guy (he carries around blackjack odds in his European carry-all, if that’s not the epitome of cool, I want to know what is). He’s not the youngest horse in the stable, and so, not surprisingly, in a lot of ways he is very much a traditionalist; one example of how this manifests itself is his disdain for new wave, pseudo-medicinal remedies like vitamin supplements (my father is a Princeton and Hopkins-trained doctor, so in terms of medicine, his opinions have just a little clout). This is why my friends and I hypothesized that if I had returned from Vegas with a five thousand dollar gambling debt, an STD from a hooker, or a 500 dollar room service bill, he would not be happy, but would he forgive me? Yeah. But if he EVER finds out that I spent 22 dollars at an oxygen bar, I think he might disown me.