how to have the best dad in the world.

25 May

In celebration of the holiday weekend and all the horrible drivers/outfits/people in general out there, I’ve decided to highlight some morons.

  • The kid at the yogurt place. Look, kid. I’m really proud of you for getting an after school job. But if I’m by myself and I’m getting 4 things of yogurt, it’s pretty safe to say that I need lids. Oh, and yes. A bag.
  • People who compliment the cakes that we serve at parties. People tend to go bananas for our cakes, because they’re fresh and totally delicious. That being said, they’re mostly either from the supermarket or Costco. So when I say “it’s a local baker” in response to “where did you get this yummy cake?” I find it extremely difficult to keep a straight face.
  • The guy who helped me set up my computer. He’s a friend and he came over and that was so so so nice of him and I’m forever grateful for all the stuff he pimped out my computer with (except for the program that he probably put on to see what me and Harry Google from his living room). But telling a girl “stop it, your diet’s not working” is undoubtedly going to put you on a list of morons.
And now a retraction, of sorts…..

RETRACTION: So my dad asked me to retract the statement I made the other day about him being extremely whiny when it comes to fixing shit around the restaurant. Yes, he showed up promptly the next morning and miraculously rewired the broken fan to make it spin another day. He also cleaned up after himself. But the fact of the matter is that he did it all hesitantly and without zest. So for that, I am refusing his retraction request and instead telling an embarrassing story about him.

THE BOOTS

It was many moons ago, sometime around the turn of the milennium, and my dad decided to come visit me up at Syracuse and take me to the motor home show at the New York State Fairgrounds. It was probably around April, and since it snows 12 months a year there, we decided that we’d also hit up a ski mountain. We arrived at the mountain with my dad, his “vintage” skis, and my roommate Allie who had never been on a mountain before (she sidestepped down the mountain on our first and her only run). I was quite seasoned, having been on at least two bunny hills and one unfortunate black diamond. Allie and I hit up the rental place, partially to get skis and partially to get dates. After we were all geared up, we headed outside to the lifts to meet up with my dad. On our way there, I saw some pieces of debris on the ground. First just a couple pieces, then some more, then a shit ton more. And at the end of the breadcrumb trail stood my sad sad sad daddy wearing one ski boot and one sock.

“My boot exploded.”

“Well let’s go back to the lodge. We can go rent a new pair!”

“I have a wide foot. It was a special boot.”

“Well it was it’s time, dad. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He insisted that we go ski without him, and that he would sit in the lodge and wait for us. We turned and parted ways, but before we could make it to the lift, there was a crack. We turned around.

“My other boot exploded!”

At least we had the RV show to lighten the mood….

 

You know what? That felt so good! Exploiting my pops is FUN! I’m going to try for round two….

 

THIS OLE’ HEART OF MINE

It was a dark and stormy night when we found out my dad had to have triple bypass surgery as a result of sausage, peppers, onions and the restaurant business. Or maybe it was a lovely summer day. I don’t remember. Probably neither does he because he’s really sort of losing it. We do know that it was either a day or a night. He went in for surgery like a trooper, even though he was scared (of how bad business would be if he couldn’t come back to work quickly). He (obv) made it through, as we knew would happen, and we went home to get some rest, because the thing about my father is that he’s occasionally high maintenance, especially when under the weather, so we knew we’d need energy to cater to his odd whims and mostly unnecessary needs. When we arrived at the hospital the next morning, the sexy porn-ish nurse told us that we could go see him in the CCU. It was heartbreaking to see him laying there, completely unable to communicate with anyone around him. He felt such deep pain and had been so severely drugged up that he couldn’t even do anything but keep his eyes closed and moan and moan and moan and make us cry like girls.

But then something happened. I looked up at the TV and Lifetime was playing. Somehow, the boobalicious nurse knew his favorite channel! It was a miracle! She was a mind reader! Or he was a big fat faker. Sorry dad. Seven thousand stitches and a breathing tube or not, we all know the truth about the CCU.

 

*In regards to the title of this post, I’m not trying to compete with you or your dad. I was really just trying to put my dad in a super happy mood before he found out that I was rejecting his retraction request. Next time just come fix the fan, dad.

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