Sunday, June 19, 2011
My dad never answers his goddamn phone when I call lately, and it’s seriously pissing me off.
|Tiara courtesy of Midget|
I‘d like to think that he and I have a good relationship. It’s kind of weird because we are complete opposites: I’m extremely introverted, soft-spoken, and somewhat level-headed whereas my dad is loud, outspoken, and belligerent. And, yet, somehow, we get on fabulously – for the most part. Sometimes he will give unwarranted advice, or he will make a snap judgment about something that he is ill-informed about, and that’s when we tend to clash. However, as we get older this happens with much less frequency.
It’s kind of rad, really. I wish we would have gotten along like this when I still lived at home. It’s not like we were at each other’s throats, but there were times when things definitely got ugly.
Now we can easily have hour-long conversations in which we share bad dick and fart jokes and/or talk about great places to eat in NYC (even though neither of us lives there anymore). We like to keep it classy. OBVIOUSLY.
The trade-off for getting along with my dad? I never fucking see him. Seriously; since moving out of state almost ten years ago, I have seen him three times: my wedding, a visit to meet Midget when she was three months old, and a visit to meet Munchkin just days before we left California. I’ve been trying to get him to come visit, but he has a tendency to play the martyr. Because of that, he never wants to take any time off – it costs too much money, someone has to take care of my grandmother, etc. etc. etc. Jeremy and I even offered to buy his plane ticket, and he still declined! Bastard!
So, until I can finally convince him to travel cross-continent, I’m going to have to be satisfied with sharing those bad jokes and food recommendations over the phone -- if he would bloody answer it.
At least I have free long-distance.
Labels: cool story bro