Hooray! It's my mother-in-law's birthday—she's turning 64 today. "We're heading to Mom's at 4 p.m.," my wife calls from the kitchen. Meanwhile, I tweet: "How do I escape my mother-in-law's birthday?" "You're not listening again, are you?" she shouts. "Well," I snap back, "I heard we're going to see your mother."
Meanwhile, Twitter responses flood in: pretend you're sick, sabotage the car, or claim work. "You're not going to be tweeting with my mother the whole time," my wife yells from the kitchen. I tweet her exact words to my followers, who reply with ROFLs and hahahahas.
A quarter to four, I tweet that escape is impossible—I'm facing my fate at what I call "hell," my mother-in-law's birthday. In the car, I snap a TwitPic to prove I'm serious. "Cut it out," my wife snaps from the passenger seat, meaning I need to stop broadcasting everything on Twitter.
As we pull into the Vinex neighborhood where the birthday girl lives, I secretly tweet: "Entering the gates of hell." "You take the flowers for Mom; I'll handle the Maxi-Cosi," she says irritably. I lag a few meters behind, snap a TwitPic of a dry hedge, and caption it "at: tired-in-law #birthday." Followers like @vroegevogel45 are rolling on the floor laughing, while @plumenek56 wants a forest for his own mother-in-law.
Inside, a circle of guests sits with pastries, debating how Freek de Jonge isn't what he used to be. I can't take it—I dash to the bathroom, whip out my phone, and tweet: "How do I politely exit my mother-in-law's birthday in 10 minutes?"
A knock on the door. "I know you're tweeting," my wife hollers from the hall. I pocket my phone, emerge innocently, and say, "No idea what you're talking about," before rejoining the group.
I steer the conversation to Twitter. "I tweet too," my mother-in-law chimes in. "For about three years now—@tokkenbos197 is my handle." I go pale, realizing I've been exchanging flirty DMs with her for months. "What's your Twitter name?" she asks. I blurt, "@theezak112." "Don't lie," my wife snaps. "You're @vester71!" My mother-in-law pales. I bolt outside for a cigarette, return to the circle, relieved the talk has shifted back to Freek de Jonge 😉.
Written by @Vester71
