I Know You'll Read This, Dad.

"You should put that in your blog"

"Are you going to write that in your blog now?"

"Am i going to see this in your blog tomorrow?"

Ever since that last post about the Christmas tree my father has ensured that this blog is all the family can talk about. Not any other post, just that one.
Just in case anyone else out there interpreted that post (which by the way, is the transcript of a REAL conversation that REALLY happened whether you remember it or not, dad!) as he did, allow me to make it clear that the conclusion was meant to portray that once I understood why we didn't buy a Christmas tree, I decided to be happy with our porcelain tree, and that, ironically, while my dad was coming around to my idea of needing a tree, I was coming around to his idea of the tree not being what's really important. Kind of an "Our Town"-y vibe, I thought. (which is probably why you didn't get it, dad.) Also, the Haiku at the end was not meant to portray the lack of Christmas atmosphere at my house, but rather how I was unable to focus on the happy Christmas season while I was focused on finals!! I was hardly even in my house that week, so regardless, the atmosphere shouldn't have affected me much.

Instead of read it that way though, my dad skims it, thinks I'm not only portraying him as a piece of white trash but as a Grinchy piece of white trash, freaks the heck out, runs out and finds a Kmart tree on sale for 50$, and carries it through the door over his head like a victorious hunter bringing home that day's kill, only to throw it down and immediately make it clear that he wanted no part of assembling or decorating it. (Incidentally, when he went to pick it up, he scratched off a lottery ticket at the front of the store that won him exactly 50$. I say that because I know he'll construe this information as me saying that the lottery ticket is the only reason we have a tree, and I hope that will annoy him)

I starting writing this in the hopes that it might quell some of the relentless quoting and misquoting of my own words that makes up 45% of interactions with my father... in writing that, though, I realize that surely, no matter what I write, If I mention him at all I'm only adding fuel to the fire... So while I'm at it, I might as well do this:

Guess which facts are true and which are false about my dad:

1. My father's wardrobe consists primarily of cut-off T-shirts and gym shorts from the 80s, (many of which are pink)

2. My dad habitually eats  horseradish and BBQ sauce. Plain.

3. If you see my dad without a 40 in his lap, it's only because he's standing up

4. Every conversation my father has with his younger brother begins with him saying "Hey baby" (without the "H" sound in "Hey")

5. I've never heard my father use the word "have." It is only ever "got" or "ain't got."

6. My daddy's real real proud of the '88 camaro we got up on blocks in front of our double-wide. Makes 'im smile so big you'd think his las' toof'd fall right out.

(1. True ("primarily" could be a slight exaggeration)  2. True 3. False, he typically prefers regular sized bottles 4. True 5. Semi-false, he cleans up his syntax if we aren't alone. 6. I hope you liked that one, dad)

~Ali

So much crankiness
Nonstop time with family
Unleash "The Moser"