real conversations between my father and i
as we watch deagol pull the one ring from the mud;
dad: y’know if you pull a ring from the ground and enya starts singing, you might want to just put it back
me: if a boys’ choir starts singing hauntingly while you make a decision, you have probably made the wrong decision
my dad (a fairly religious dude) and i discussing how much we despise the “keep christ in christmas” signs which seem to plague nearly every yard in our neighborhood
him: we should put up a sign ourselves
him: like, “keep saturnalia in christmas”
my dad just told me i wasn’t liberal enough to own his obama chia pet
my mom hit him on the shoulder and told him to stop being so mean
just had an excellent, long and mildly drunken chat with my father about the shit in our lives that sucks
also how my dad is like 99% sure that mitt romney’s daemon is his wife
mom and i enjoy our wine in paper cups in our hotel room like the classy ass women we are
my mom literally texted me in the middle of class to tell me about an old navy opening up by our house she has my interests at heart
i told my parents yesterday that i wish i controlled what was on tv because there was so much crap that didn’t deserve to be aired and i had way better taste than the people in charge
my dad pointed out that i had watched power rangers: dino thunder for four straight hours that afternoon
- me: oh dad, are you going to the beer cellar?
- dad: yesssss...
- me: get me a coke please?
- mom: oh, and a bottle of wine, please?
- dad: *puts on a silly voice* anything else madames?
- me: A DRAGON
- dad: a dragon.
- me: A DRAGON
- dad: *heads downstairs... calls up a moment later* a norwegian ridgeback?
- me: PREFERABLY
- dad: k.
- mom: and then we'll come home and eat the brownies you've made.
- me: i've made brownies?
- mom: oh. no. but you will.
- me: i will?
- mom: didn't i ask you that earlier?
- me: ...no.
- mom: oh.
- me: well i'll bake them but i'm going to eat them before you get home.
downloaded angry birds onto my dad’s android for my mom i think she’s addicted she’s narrating everything she does she keeps making little explosion noises
- mom: i choose... *gets distracted*
- dad and i: *in chorus* a mortal life.
- dad: i like you so much.
my parents and i sat drunkenly at our dining room table and they discussed what my perfect guy would be like
- a little bit of an asshole, to deal with my assholeishness
- probably a prince
- or at least extremely rich
- mostly so that they could live with us and stop working
- dark haired
- physically strong so that the sex will be good (yes my parents said this)
- bigger guy, broad shoulders, at least 5’11”
- mom insists no taller than 6’2” tho
- we return to the prince thing
- my dad wants a castle
- he needs to be european, either italian or french
- my mom disagrees, as do i
- my dad points out that he wants a castle in italy or france
- so he’s got to be from those places
- he has to want to adopt
- also he has to like dogs