I am going to dinner with my boyfriend's parents tonight.

I will attempt to covertly take pictures of them with my camera phone. They don't understand this new technology. They'll have no idea.

They have begrudgingly accepted me, I think. First of all, I'm not Indian. So, that was the first hurdle. Then, on a trip to Maui with them, I got blotto. And when I say blotto, people, I mean B-L-O-T-T-O. I blame it on the not eating to look good in my bikini-mai tai death combo. I was elated one minute and sobbing the next, then elated again, then sobbing, then elated. Perhaps you recognize this pattern from babies you've played with. Yes, something very similar to that. So, of course they (very rightly) decided I was taking their lovely prodigy son to hell in a handbasket. They wrote him concerned parent letters for months. Anyway, years later, I was invited to the family x-mas again. This time, I ran from the room at the mere mention of alcohol. If I was handed the wine list at dinner, I would javelin throw it away from me. And many other 'I'm very in charge of my alcoholism' gestures. So, now they're in town and I'm going to take pictures of them without their knowledge.