My parents are rock stars. I have discussed this before. Recently, it has been the center of much debate. Strange, really, because I have had that information up on my about page for some time now, but I guess people just started exploring this site this week (after only eight months in).
Anyway. The term "rock star" is to be taken metaphorically of course. But, confused, my father got on the phone with me on Monday after having read such a curious fact about himself online and said, "Can I just ask you a question? Rock stars? What? That was really weird." I just laughed back.
But it hadn't occured to me that "rock stars" is sort of a semi-slang expression maybe only used by people under 30. Or, for those of you around 30, I'll graciously extend that to under 40 so as not to hurt your feelings.
So luckily, my under-30 (for now anyway, ha ha ha!) sister happened to be home with the parents last Monday to explain to my hip-but-not-necessarily-aware-of-all-the-fangly-things-youngsters-are-saying-these-days Mom and Dad what exactly I meant by "rock stars."
I meant they are the coolest, greatest, most wonderfullest people I have ever known. To call someone a rock star is to say that they are not only fascinating and fabulous, but that one has a lot of admiration for them in a dazzled and almost fanatical way - just as one does for rock stars. That my rock star parents could totally put on stilettos and big sunglasses, strut their stuff on a stage, and I would clap for them and ask them to give me autographs. I would maybe even faint just because I would be so in awe of their super-cool ways, or just for dramatic effect.
Never mind that the "stuff" my dad would strut would probably be some wild trivia facts or maybe one of his, um, creative papier-m�ch� art exhibits, I would still clap and whistle for that man if he decided to do some sort of performance. And while my mom would make a rather strange addition to the Aerosmith, I'd pay top dollar to see her strut her Jeopardy-winning, explosive-giggling, kick-ass-lasagna-baking, cultral-reference-making, funny-story-telling, hilarious, courageous and gorgeous self across a stage any ole day.
Hell, to call them "rock stars" is just another way to say that I'm their biggest fan.
They're so rockin', I might even become a roadie. Like a Deadhead or a Phishead, but I'd just become a Corneliihead. Doesn't have the same ring, though, does it?
So these are the things I meant and mean by calling my parents "rock stars." Unfortunately, when I talked to the Parental Unit a few days ago, I didn't understand that Dad was asking me about the actual term because he might have just not caught the lingo.
Instead, I clarified by saying, "No, Dad, I don't mean you're like Ozzy Osborne or anything."
And after not a second's pause, my otherwise perfectly polite father answered, "Let me just give the fucking phone to your mother."
I'm telling you guys: Rock Stars. All the way.
Can I git an AMEN?
Although, not about the almost-thirty remarks. Low blow, dear sister, low blow.
Just look at it as my turn to rub it in your face that YOU don't have a licence yet. Although you do. And now I do too. But no matter. The tables have turned, that's all I am saying.
And yes. AMEN!
I'm *sure* I would never stoop so low as to flaunt a driver's license to my younger sister.