Monday, August 2, 2010

A Conversation With My Dad. Translated.

How do I begin? How about I just leave some stuff out.
We'll start with the fact that I STILL have yet to clean ricey-poop from the dog crate. And due to their rampage yesterday, it was not the last pile.
I had a 'lovely' conversation with my sperm donor. I'm not going to tell you what was actually said, I'm going to translate it into what was meant.
SD: Hi, I'm a bit tipsy, and bored as fuck, so I thought I would call to whine and talk about myself, because I know you care.
ME: I don't fucking care, and talking to you is on my list, right below 'have an enema'.
SD: Anyway, I'm trying to figure out my emotions and issues, I'm using a combination of angry emails to your mother (which you pointed out was a bad idea) and lots of Alcohol. it's working great! I'm sometimes working, but not really. I'll get work, mostly because everybody likes me.
ME: nobody fucking likes you.
SD: You know, this isn't going the way I planned.
ME: No way.
SD: Yeah, and I know how you love being around drugs and intoxicated people. So come to the jammnight, and watch me play, because I'm fucking awesome, especially when I'm stoned and drunk.
ME: I'm pretty sure you guys just sound like cats in heat.
SD: Sometimes I'm A prick when I drink.
ME: A fucking revelation. bye, fuckbag.

So, I'm supposed to go out to Ferndale and smile and nod. Honestly, I don't want to break his poor little delusional heart. So mostly, I just nod and smile.
Deployment will end soon. I plan to tune the world out. At least until Christmas.

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