A funny thing happened at the Lobster Pot on Commercial Street in Provincetown tonight: My mom stormed out of the restaurant after I made an innocent enough remark about the moochers one is apt to find in Colombia -- the country she just left after a month long vacation.
Well, eff mom right now. And eff the punk little brother I referenced in my last post -- he didn't even bother to come out for this week-long vacation. I spent the day at the beach, was snubbed by mom, and James is trying to talk everyone off the ledge.
Politics, family and sexuality: is this the trifecta from which this young upwardly mobile twenty-something is to hang himself?