Yay! Now, most people would tell you all the great things their dad did, like playing catch or some other cliche, in order to show how much they loved him. I am going a different route.
My father is a nut. He is a Vietnam vet, a conspiracy nut, a diabetic, a lapsed Nation of Islam member, and a dirty old man who flirts with nearly any woman he meets. He rarely gets my jokes, mostly because the only television he watches is C-SPAN and maybe PBS. He has very little sense of irony or sarcasm. He insists on regaling me with his latest theory about how Bush is running the country into the ground, and that the entire administration is going to jail.
He has no idea how much I hate yard work, but if he did, he would make me help him anyway. I am afraid if I do get a girlfriend, he might try to steal her from me. I never liked his seemingly cavalier attitude towards relationships with women, and how he can be so comfortable with juggling so many hearts at one time. I even had to lay down the law and told him to leave my mother out of his shenanigans. He won't read this, since the most a computer can do for him is email and Solitaire. He still has VHS tapes, for crying out loud.
And I wouldn't have him any other way. Even now, I catch myself saying something he says or throwing up that ridiculous thumbs-up sign whenever I want to politely tell someone to shut the hell up.
Love ya, Dad. Now eat the shrimp you made me cook and quiet down. *thumbs up*
Edit: Hmmm, perhaps I should explain further. That conspiracy-convinced Vietnam vet showed me what true courage was about, and that it was my right and duty as an American to bitch about the government so that they don't think they can get away with anything. And the yard work? Taught me discipline and follow-through, as well as how to take care of my own place. And even seeing him sitting alone after flirting with all these women made me realize how empty life can be without someone who cares about you there to comfort you. And no matter what, he always tried his damnedest to keep me from wanting for anything. He isn't perfect, but he was just right for me.
My father is a nut. He is a Vietnam vet, a conspiracy nut, a diabetic, a lapsed Nation of Islam member, and a dirty old man who flirts with nearly any woman he meets. He rarely gets my jokes, mostly because the only television he watches is C-SPAN and maybe PBS. He has very little sense of irony or sarcasm. He insists on regaling me with his latest theory about how Bush is running the country into the ground, and that the entire administration is going to jail.
He has no idea how much I hate yard work, but if he did, he would make me help him anyway. I am afraid if I do get a girlfriend, he might try to steal her from me. I never liked his seemingly cavalier attitude towards relationships with women, and how he can be so comfortable with juggling so many hearts at one time. I even had to lay down the law and told him to leave my mother out of his shenanigans. He won't read this, since the most a computer can do for him is email and Solitaire. He still has VHS tapes, for crying out loud.
And I wouldn't have him any other way. Even now, I catch myself saying something he says or throwing up that ridiculous thumbs-up sign whenever I want to politely tell someone to shut the hell up.
Love ya, Dad. Now eat the shrimp you made me cook and quiet down. *thumbs up*
Edit: Hmmm, perhaps I should explain further. That conspiracy-convinced Vietnam vet showed me what true courage was about, and that it was my right and duty as an American to bitch about the government so that they don't think they can get away with anything. And the yard work? Taught me discipline and follow-through, as well as how to take care of my own place. And even seeing him sitting alone after flirting with all these women made me realize how empty life can be without someone who cares about you there to comfort you. And no matter what, he always tried his damnedest to keep me from wanting for anything. He isn't perfect, but he was just right for me.
Powered by ScribeFire.
0 brain pickings:
Post a Comment