onto matters of blood…
the other night, my father and his coworkers attended one of my comedy shows.
“keep it up!”
“good for you!”
those were my favorites.
after the show, i asked my father how he enjoyed it, and he didn’t even comment on the show, he just said:
“you looked very tired up there. you should get some rest.”
hoo boy. *whistle through teeth*
then today morning, when i was leaving the house, he said:
“you should comb your hair. you can’t go to work like that!”
(i had just combed my hair)
now my dad has never been one for veiled language, but methinks something is a-brewing here. WHUDDIDIDO?!
in fact, i think he’s trying to undermine my self-esteem and/or put in his bid to be my manager! oh, but daddoo! the formative years are over. it’s too late to assert that kind of control over my psyche. *carefree dance on shrink couch*
in all actuality, my dad is one of the shweetest people imaginable and i’m finding his little nerf darts bouncing off of the side of my head pretty funny.
i’m hoping tomorrow will involve wardrobe criticism. fingahs cwossed!
Archived Picture for Good Times’ Sake: