Random Esquire

Today I discovered that I might be adopted.  Or may have been born in the back of a taxi cab.  Or to two drunkards.

The jury is out.

Here’s how it came about.  I was filling out this W-2 thing to have it sent to me electronically instead of via mail.  In order to confirm my identity, I was asked the city of my birth.

I dunno.

I know that seems ridiculous but really?  I don’t know.  How many times have I had to cough up that information?  Nearly none.  So I don’t remember.  It’s a waste of my brain space.  So I called my parents and they answered on speaker phone.  I said, “Hey, I gotta fill out this thing…where was I born? like, what city?”

And I’ll be goddamned.

They *paused*.

Then my mother said, “Why do you want to know?”

And see, that?  Right there? That right there?

THAT’S NOT FUNNY.

I said, “What do you mean WHY?  Dude, if this is how I find out that I was adopted, I want that washer and dryer back.”

Oh, did I mention they got them?  They did.  They were delivered on Saturday and they kindly sent me a picture.

Okay, back to the business at hand.

Well, they started laughing and told me where I was born.  They seemed pretty pleased with themselves.  I’m sure that they were only disappointed that I wasn’t in front of them to witness their sideways glances.

WTF.