Monthly Archives: February 2012

The Fuck-Its

Hello Internet.  I know, I’ve been quite remiss in my promise to “update daily with funny shit”.  I’m gonna be perfectly honest, I’ve had a real bad case of the fuck-its for about a month.  I’m not really sure why, but I am sure that I need to get over it.

Let’s talk about school.  I found out that I bombed an assignment this week.  I am taking a “Critical Thinking” class right now and we had an assignment due last week about identifying different types of fallacies.  I got 59/100.  Dropped my grade in the class from a 100% to a 90.4%.  Now, for those of you who don’t know or don’t care, my goal is to finish my bachelor’s with a 4.0 GPA, so it’s kind of important for me to maintain my A in this class.  And I know, there’s probably a lot of you that are thinking that “C’s get Degrees!” but since I am going on to a master’s program, finishing my bachelor’s with a 4.0 will make it soooooooo much easier to get accepted into my master’s program of choice.  Admittedly, out of 1000 possible points for this class, we only have 430 graded, so it’s unlikely that I won’t be able to maintain my A, but still.  I’m really, really bumming out about it and kind of hating myself for fucking up so badly.  I know, retrospection is useless at this point and all I can do is knuckle down and make sure that it doesn’t happen again.  Except that my instructor lady (yes, it’s that instructor lady) didn’t give me any feedback about WHAT I got wrong.  So I don’t know what I need to review and study.  And without that information, there’s a very real chance that I’ll study all the wrong shit and fuck it up again the next time around.  I’m going to email her this afternoon and see if she’ll send me a graded copy of my assignment so I know which fallacies I identified correctly and which ones I didn’t.  I’m sure that there’s a really good chance that my email exchange with her will be just as frustrating as the last one.  If it is, I’ll be sure to post it here.

Let’s talk about pointy sharp things!  Archery practice is still going well.  Not a whole lot to report on that front, except that I haven’t hit my forearm with my bowstring a SINGLE FUCKING TIME since I invested in a $30 leather armguard.  I’m still wearing it, but I fixed the technique and form issues I was having and it’s been lovely.  The bruise on my forearm is almost gone, too!

More introspection! Huzzah!  So, I’ve been thinking a lot about The Power of Words lately.  I feel like there’s more that I can do to help LGBT teens other than talking about the issue and relating my own story.  The problem is, I’m pretty inconsequential (haha, get it?) in the big picture and I don’t know what I can do.  A whopping 50 people read my blog (and that might be optimistic) and I don’t know what else I can do to try to raise awareness and promote love and tolerance.  One thing I do want to plug is the Born This Way Foundation.  It’s a non profit started by Lady Gaga and her mom, aimed at increasing tolerance, acceptance and love in the world.  From their mission statement:

The Foundation is dedicated to creating a safe community that helps connect young people with the skills and opportunities they need to build a braver, kinder world.

We believe that everyone has the right to feel safe, to be empowered and to make a difference in the world. Together, we will move towards acceptance, bravery and love.

And that’s beautiful, I think.  So if you have a few minutes, go over and check them out.  Because He made you perfect, babe. ❤

And one more time, PLEASE support the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.


I sent the following email to Instructor Lady.

Not to be a nitpicker, but you graded my assignment wrong.  When checking the answers with the matrix you provided, I actually got 10/15 correct and not 9/15.  That would make my grade for the assignment 66.6, not 59.94.  Which would make my overall total grade a 91.96%, not 90.4%.  I know that this is something that I need to work on and something that I need to study more, but I also deserve the grade I actually earned.  I would appreciate it if you could correct this.  I have attached a copy of the assignment where I was copying down the correct answers next to the incorrect answers so I could study them, when I noticed that I got “poisoning the well” correct but was not awarded points for it.  I have also attached the grading matrix you provided for me and the my original submission.

Thank you,


Waiting for a reply.  I am really curious what she’s going to say…


I would say I’m an Amazon Princess…

… Except that I refuse to cut off my left boob.

So let’s talk archery for a few minutes.  Basically, I just want to brag about what an awesome life I have.  As you may remember, my wonderful husband bought me a 62″, 30# PSE Razorback recurve bow for my  birthday. I am absolutely in love with her.  She doesn’t have a name, yet, but I’m willing to entertain suggestions.  We set up an archery range in the garage (it’s 30 feet deep and underneath the house, so I’m firing towards 12″ of cement and 30ft of dirt.  I can’t think of a safer place for it) and so far things are going well.  I had about a 15 year hiatus but from day one, every single arrow I’ve fired has at least hit the target.

Day one target practice.

Day two was uneventful and my grouping really started coming together on day three:

Still have a couple of errant shots, but much better!

Days three and four also reminded me why archers wear bracers or arm guards.  I know it’s my form that needs correcting, but after this:

Holy OW, Batman!

I did decide to invest in an armguard.  Today was day five.  With Arm Guard in place and a brand new target (yeah, I kind of hated the first one we bought) I headed down to the garage and tested out a slightly modified stance.  And you know what? With better form, I didn’t strike my arm a single time!  I’m still going to wear the armguard, at least until the bruising goes away.  Also, I shot a total of three quivers and had about a 4-6 inch spread.  Which is not fucking bad, if you ask me.  Also, Husband got to see me shoot for the first time and took some action shots:

Isn't she sexy? Again, I'm talking about the bow...

I'm kind of a badass, I know.

Grouping's getting tighter!

I'm finally starting to get my consistency back!

Other than that…

I went to the dentist this morning and I fracking LOVE my new dentist.  It’s the only pleasant experience I’ve ever had at a dentist’s office.  I have one temporary crown, I’ll get the permenant one on this tooth and the temporary one on the other tooth in 2 weeks.  I effing HATE this fake tooth.  It’s all … porous and it just feels funny.  But as long as I don’t end up having to get a pair of root canals as well, I’m not going to complain.

Nothing else new in my life right now, how are you?

The Power of Words

Dyke.  Faggot.  Worthless.  Shithead.  Slut.  Whore.  Skank.   Bitch.  Asshole.  Homo.  Good-for-nothing.  Trash.  Cunt.

Do any of those words make you mad?  Good.  Do any of them hurt? They shouldn’t, but they probably do.  I want to talk about the power of words and the effect that they have on the teenage psyche.

Last night I watched a DVR’d episode of Glee.  It aired on Tuesday the 21st of February and was titled “On My Way”.  If you haven’t seen the episode and want to watch it, STOP READING RIGHT NOW.  Here, there be spoilers!

I know, I know.  Faithful reader, you’re probably sitting there thinking “Wait, Kalypso, I thought you were this tomboy rockstar badass?  And now you tell me that you watch Glee?”  Yes, I know, gentle reader, it’s a shock.  But I do.  In addition to being a total tomboy rockstar badass, I am also a huge musical theater nerd and an audiophile.  I fracking love Glee.  It makes me happy.  Plus, Naya Rivera is a SMOKING HOTTIE and I want to be her Brittany.  So, yes, I like Glee.  Let’s move on.

Tuesday’s episode dealt a lot with Gay Bashing and Teen Suicide.  Dave Karofsky, the closet gay bully that was harassing Kurt gets “outed” at his new school.  They spray paint “Fag” on his locker and his Facebook blows up with hatred.  For his simply being alive and being gay.  Dave doesn’t know how to handle it and tries to kill himself.  Luckily, he doesn’t succeed.  His father comes home and finds him hanging from a belt and gets him medical attention before any permanent damage is done.  I sobbed like a little bitch watching it.  As much as it hurt me to watch it, I am so, SO glad they did this episode.  Bullying sucks, period.  But to be bullied for something you have absolutely no control over is the worst.  Being gay bashed sucks.  And it’s a type of bullying that a lot of teachers and administrators have turned a blind eye to.  And that is FUCKED UP.  Harassment, gay-bashing and the suicide of gay teens is an epidemic in this country.  They touched briefly on this topic a few weeks back when Santana got forced out of the closet.  But the frank and compassionate manner in which they approached this topic on Tuesday’s episode was beautiful and so, so needed.

I got gay bashed in high school.  I played softball and lacrosse and had short hair.  I got into fist fights and ran with a bunch of no-good punks (I love you, boys, but it’s true).  I got shoved into walls and called a dyke.  Lezzie. Lesbo.  Fag-Hag.  Homo.  Bitch.  Cunt.  And it hurt.  It hurt so much that by the time I was 16 I was pretty severely suicidal and had developed a very unhealthy self mutilation habit that took years to break.  Now, my sexual orientation is no one’s business and this isn’t about whether or not the kids teasing me were right or wrong. This is about whether or not they had the right to make me feel worthless.  Broken.  Wrong.  And they didn’t.  Now, I know that you’re going to say “No one can MAKE you feel anything, you allow them to influence your emotions”.  Well, you’re right.  Except imagine being told the same thing every single day for 7 years.  I was once told “If someone calls you a horse once, punch them in the nose.  If they call you a horse a second time, call them a jerk.  If they call you a horse a third time, it might be time to start shopping for a saddle.”  And I fully believe that.  If you’re continually told something, it doesn’t matter whether or not you KNOW it’s false.  If enough voices say it enough times you will eventually start to believe it.  Just that one seed of doubt about your own inherent awesomeness is enough to completely topple the fragile teenage psyche.  Teenagers are generally a mess anyway, even if they only have positive influences in their lives.  And for me, it was one straw too much.  I could have grown my hair out, started dressing in trendy clothes, stopped playing sports and become a total whore to “prove them wrong”, but I didn’t.  I knew enough about myself to know that I would be miserable playing the part that they seemed to want me to play.  So I didn’t.  I continued on my path despite the harassment and I am so, SO lucky that I managed to escape it before I decided it was time to end everything.

I only went to high school for three years because of it.  I didn’t drop out, I managed to get everything I needed to graduate done in 3 years and got the fuck outta dodge.   A lot of my friends at the time, notably G (who I’ll talk about in detail someday very soon) and M (who I’ve talked about before) were very upset that I left them behind.  But at the same time, they all knew that if I didn’t get out of there, there was a very real possibility that I wouldn’t make it out alive.  I took it all one step further.  As soon as I turned 18 I started looking into joining the military.  About 6 months after my 18th birthday, I enlisted in the US Army and spent the next 4 years in Germany.  I needed that time.  I needed to get the hell out of Phoenix and away from all the pain and hatred that I associated with “home”.  Don’t get me wrong, my home life was never as fucked up as it was at school but it was all mixed together into a ball of unhappiness and fear.  So I ran away.  And once I got away I found myself.  I came to terms with my sexuality, met and married an amazing man and I have the best girlfriend that anyone could ever ask for.  There is so much unconditional love and support in my life that I don’t know what to do with it sometimes.  And that scared, defensive and self-destructive kid that I used to be?  She’s still in here, but she doesn’t see the light of day very often.

So what I’m trying to say is that if you’re a teen and being bullied and harassed, whether it’s because you’re gay, perceived to be gay, overweight, nerdy, too tall, too skinny, too short, whatever.  It gets better.  High School seems like it’s forever and it’s never going to get any better, but I promise you, there is a beautiful, loving, accepting world out there just waiting for you.  There are so many beautiful things for you to experience in this world, but you have to hold on.  You have to push through the awful times to get to the good ones.  There is always someone out there who can and will help you when you need it.  I’m going to list the contact information for the national suicide hotline, but if all else fails, email ME.  I’ll talk to you as long and as often as you want.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline (Lifeline):  11-800-273-TALK (8255)


Husband lied to me.  He told me that he had bought me a set of Skull Candy headphones and we were just waiting for them to arrive in the post.  He didn’t.

He bought me this instead:

Isn't she sexy?!?

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a 30lb recurve bow.  I was really into archery when I was a youngster and I’ve been wanting to get back into it for a long while.  Every time we go to Bass Pro Shops, Husband very indulgently waits while I spend at least half an hour drooling over archery supplies that I can’t afford.  I’m also somewhat convinced that he has a secret goal to “one up” me every birthday.  Our birthdays are 13 days apart and every year I think I’ve gotten him a great present.  And then he gives me an iMac.  Or a new bow.  And makes my “video game I know he wants and computer software” gift look completely lame in comparison.  *sigh*

I was so excited about this present, I might have derped.  Hard…

Hurr Hurr, Is New Bow!!

Seriously, though, she’s gorgeous and I absolutely love her.  Unfortunately, every single place that sells feather fletched arrows is either a) sold out or b) closed on Monday.  So I have to wait until tomorrow to buy arrows.  Oh well, I think I’ll live.

Update:  Viking Archery in Canyon Lake had the arrows I needed and I spent about an hour talking shop with the dude who owns the shop.  He’s lovely and they’re very, very reasonably priced for just about everything they sell.  I wholeheartedly recommend them to anyone in the San Antonio area.

I got the most obnoxiously girlie arrows I could find, just to piss Husband off when he wants to use them.

One more, because she's so beautiful. I'm talking about the bow, silly, not me.

Awwwww Yeeeaaaahhhh!

Sorry for the radio silence this week, my computer’s been in the shop and I hate using Husband’s laptop.  But, my baby is all fixed up and home now.  So yeah, that’s right, I’m back, bitches!  And now, for a random collection of shit that I don’t feel like breaking down into multiple posts.

Let’s talk about Facebook.  I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but Facebook is kind of a creeper.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as Facebook addicted as the average 20-something, but it kind of freaks me out sometimes.  The Friend Suggestions/”People You May Know” is really what I have a problem with.  For about a year, it kept telling me that I should be friends with my buddy’s 16 year old son who I had never met because he lives with his mom.  Then it kept trying to get me to be friends with a bunch of 14 year olds because I went to their high school.  Never mind the fact that I graduated 11 years ago.  That’s not weird or anything.  Or how about every single time it suggests to me that I may know So-and-so because “you both worked at US Army”.  Yeah… There’s a lot of people that can make that claim.  About 3 million of us.  And I don’t know most of them.  And I REALLY don’t like interactive adverts.  But that’s another gripe.  My biggest problem with Facebook right now is that when you switch to the new timeline, there’s a feature called “Activity Log”.  No one else can see this information, it’s for the profile owner only, but it’s a still bit freaky.  I don’t really like that Facebook remembers that “Kalypso joined Facebook!” on June 12th 2008 at 0653.  That’s a little stalker-esque.

Let’s talk about birthdays!!  As I might have mentioned on Tuesday, it was my birthday. Yes, I know it’s on Valentine’s Day. Thank you for pointing that out to me.  I can’t believe I managed to make it 28 years in the world and I NEVER realized that my birthday fell on Valentine’s Day!  Anyway.  All I really wanted for my birthday was Chipotle, Chocolate and David Tennant.  Again, a girl’s got to have dreams, right?  What I received was: A SHIT LOAD OF LOVE via Facebook, email, text message and phone calls (my sister almost blew out one of my eardrums singing Happy Birthday over the phone), some random Doctor Who memorabilia (sonic screwdriver, roving desktop dalek, mini-tardis and two posters), Chipotle for lunch, Sushi for dinner (bonus!), Dominion, an Edible Arrangement (thanks, mom and dad!) and a set of REALLY awesome Skull Candy headphones.  So yeah, needless to say, I was surprised and it was awesome.  Oh, plus, a girlfriend sent me David Tennant and Chocolate.  So really, my day was perfect. Here’s a picture of my Edible Arrangement:

Chocolate, Strawberries, Pineapple and Cantaloupe? HELL YES, PLEASE.

And it’s OK, you can be jealous of my dalek, roving around my kitchen counter!

And moving on. To Dentists.  I mother-effing HATE the dentist.  I have only had bad experiences with dentists.  I think it springs from the fact that my Daddy is a Ginger.  I’m pretty damn close to being a ginger myself.  And Redheads have been scientifically proven to be harder to anesthetize than anyone else.  I’ve always reacted poorly to Novocain.  It usually takes at least 3 shots and at least 20 minutes to get me numb.  And I’ve never had a dentist believe me, so they all start drilling before I’m numb.  Ugh.  *shudders*  So at this point in my life, I just generally don’t go if I can avoid it and when I do go it’s usually an anxiety attack waiting to happen.  Well, I’ve had one broken filling for about 5 years and another that I thought has been broken for about 3.  I finally went to the dentist on Thursday, for the first time in 2 years.  And I was right, I have one broken filling.  And one broken tooth.  I have no idea how I broke a tooth, but I did.  And the broken filling? It’s so damn big that they can’t drill it out and replace it.  I have to get a crown.  Well, two, actually, because the broken tooth needs one too.  But, I have no new cavities and I don’t need a root canal in either tooth, so that’s good.  The problem, though, is that my dental insurance is only going to cover 50%.  So it’s going to cost me $900 out of pocket to get this done.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a spare $900.  I’m an unemployed student and Husband is an E4 in the army, which means his base pay is $2300/month.  I have about $2200 coming from my amended tax returns (the only nice part of being an unemployed student!) but since it’s an amendment, it won’t be here until April at the earliest.  But my mom offered to lend me the money for the time being “because you have to take care of your teeth, and I know you, if you put it off until your tax returns come in, you won’t ever do it.”  I am incredibly lucky and blessed that my parents are in a position financially that they can help me out.

Puzzles.  Let’s finish with puzzles.  I am a little … OCD sometimes? I fucking love doing jigsaw puzzles and I always have at least one in progress.  There’s no real appeal to me in doing a puzzle more than once, though.  So I “do ’em and glue ’em”.  This drives Husband crazy because we have about 30 puzzles in cheap ass Walmart frames sitting in our closet because there’s no wall space for them in our tiny house. But that’s besides the point.  I have two 2,000 piece puzzles that have been waiting for a couple of years because I haven’t had a table big enough to do them on.  One is a world map and the other is Neueschwanstein Castle.  I finally remembered to go to Lowe’s and buy a board big enough to do my giant puzzles!  I have a 1,000 piece out right now that I started this morning, but in … oh, two days or so, when I finish it? It’s on like Donkey Kong.

And that’s all I got for now, what’s been going on in your life, Internet?  Did you miss me?   I know, I missed you too.  <3<3<3

Birthday Nonsense

Just a quickie before I go enjoy the rest of my birthday…

So I’ve been talking for a couple of weeks about how all I want for my birthday is David Tennant covered in chocolate.  I mean, a girl’s gotta have dreams, right?

Well, it’s my birthday.  And one of my SUPER AWESOME friends posted this to my facebook today:

The 10th Doctor and Chocolate. What more could I want? Omnomnomnom.

And that really settles it, not only do I have an awesome dad and an awesome husband, I also have some pretty awesome friends.  ❤

My Dad can beat up Your Dad.

Well, probably not.  But still.  I’ve been wanting to write a post about my dad for awhile, but then a girlfriend posted this beautiful story about the 50 most important things a Dad can do for his daughter. And I cried. Because beneath this snarky exterior, I really, truly love my parents and I realize how lucky I am to have them.  I realize how lucky I am to have them in good health, in my life, within 5,000 miles (for the first time in almost a decade) and I am so, so lucky that even though I’m the baby in the family, Dad recognizes that I am an adult and he lets me lead my life.  But that’s not really what I want to talk about today.  I want to talk about how my dad is the coolest dad on the planet and the many reasons why.

Papa Bear (as I so lovingly call him) was not my favorite parent growing up.  He was the strict one, the disciplinarian and I really resented the shit out of him until I was about 21, maybe 22 years old.  As I aged I was able to look back on my childhood without the teenage resentment and with a bit of clarity. And this is what I found:

5 Sentimental Reasons My Dad is Cooler Than Your Dad:

1)  We didn’t have a whole lot of money growing up.  Don’t get me wrong, we were never in danger of starving, but things were very tight in our household for a lot of years.  Despite this, Dad took me on a “date” each month (it might have been more like once a quarter or once a week, I have no idea, I just remember it being on a regular basis.  We have no real concept of time as kids).  We would to out to dinner and then he would take me to the bookstore.  My sister may have been present, but I honestly don’t remember her being there.  I think this is something Dad and I did, just the two of us.  Once I had learned to read, you couldn’t stop me.  It’s a love that I’m not 100% sure he’s responsible for, but it’s a passion he highly encouraged.  My dad is one of about 5 people I know that reads like I do; voraciously and insatiably.  So each month he would take me to the bookstore and let me pick out any books I wanted, up to a certain dollar amount.  Whether it was one book or 5, he didn’t really care.  In retrospect, it’s one of my favorite memories with dad at that age.  Wandering around the Converse Bookstore at Town and Country Mall (why we went all the way to North Phoenix when we lived on the very southern edge of town I’m not really sure…) and having the opportunity to fall in love with reading again and again each month when I brought the new books home.  He would never complain when I asked him to take me to the library so I could borrow more books.  And when I started reading things that he had any interest in, we would sit and talk about them.  For many years and even into my adulthood he would buy me books for special occasions.    A couple of years ago I got a package from Amazon and in it was a copy of “Atlas Shrugged”, with a note from dad: “Kalypso, I started reading this lately and I really want to talk about it with you and your sister. So I sent you each a copy.  Please start reading it so we can discuss it!  Love, Dad.”  He helped me collect every single book in the Redwall series and they’re all still boxed up somewhere in his basement.  All this kind of fell to the wayside when I became a teenager, but that was my fault.  As I’ve stated before, I was a shithead as a teenager, we all were.

2)  He coached my T-Ball team and my softball teams for years.  And even when he wasn’t coaching, he came to every single game.  There was a period when I was in middle school and high school that Pops worked nights and he would miss the occasional game then, but I was old enough to understand why and it never bothered me.  Mom and dad had done a good job of explaining to us why he was working nights (shift differential pay is a big reason) and I can honestly say I was perfectly OK with it.  He held my hand when I got all the bumps and bruises of childhood, through suspected broken bones and inexplicable migraine headaches.  He took me to the ER at midnight on more than one occasion, only to leave with an unclear diagnosis, no sleep and work in the morning.  He was my hero for many, many years.  Still is, in a lot of ways, though I don’t see him as the infallible, perfect being I once assumed he was.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, she’s awesome and a GREAT parent, but I’ve lived my entire adult life with one goal in mind: Make Dad Proud.  Nothing else matters as long as I can make Dad proud that I’m his daughter.

3)  He was never afraid to tell me No or give me punishments that truly fit my crimes.  This is something I see a lot of parents struggle with.  And as I don’t have kids of my own, I have no right to pass judgement on them or their parenting techniques.  And I fucking hated him for this when I was a kid but as an adult, I can see he really was trying to do the best he could for me.  Overall, he let me make my own choices and let me spread my rebellious little wings.  But every time I would cross a line or even get close to the line, he wasn’t afraid to let me know.  Like the time I drew a pot leaf on my backpack as a freshman in high school.  And that night I stood over the sink with a wire scrub brush and scrubbed it off. And I was grounded for a month.  Or the time he found me dead drunk after sneaking out to go to a party with the boys I played Lacrosse with.  Yeah, not only was I grounded for like 6 months, I also had to spend the worst hangover of my life cleaning Everclear Puke out of the back seat of my mom’s car.  What killed me the most about that particular event was that I don’t think Mom or Dad ever even raised their voices to me. They didn’t scream or yell or anything, they didn’t even seem mad.  And then Dad hit me with something worse: “Kalypso, I’m just… I’m just so disappointed.”  Oh God, did that hurt.  That hurt so much, I’ve done everything in my power not to have to hear him say those words again.  And I’ve done pretty well, the only time I’ve heard them since was the day I dropped out of college.  He understood why I was doing it but didn’t agree with my decision.  And I think that his disappointment was only relieved by his pride in my decision to join the army a few months later.  He was, of course, a little disappointed when I got out of the army but he understood that I was a medical mess and needed time off from it. He was disappointed in the situation, not in me, and that’s the big difference.

4)  He’s not afraid to tell me the truth.  He told me one that “you’re so fucking smart you’re almost useless”.  Ouch, Dad, that kind of stung.  But at the time, I deserved it.  I was working as a Ophthalmic Laser Technician and really squandering a lot of my potential.  Now, don’t get me wrong, refractive surgery is a good gig and I made decent money doing it.  I’m not trying to knock anyone who’s in the field.  But Dad’s point was that why should I settle for being a tech when I am more than smart enough and capable enough to be a surgeon.  And he’s absolutely right.  I didn’t realize my potential until the last couple of years.  I’m no longer content being someone else’s lackey or support.  My last job was amazing and I absolutely loved it, but it’s more than a little frustrating having to ask someone else for permission to implement a treatment plan that you know is going to work.  Or having to have someone else make the “official” diagnosis that you already know.  It’s the same reason I never wanted to go into nursing.  Nurses don’t have any power of their own, the Doctors hold ALL the power and make ALL the decisions.  (No offense meant to the wonderful Z, I love you so much and I would work for you any time, but let’s face it, I’m never going to be fully satisfied taking orders from someone else.)

5)  As he’s now considering me an adult, we’ve had a lot of “heart to heart” type of talks in the last couple of years.  I’ve been able to tell him about how crazy I was and how I felt completely invisible to him as a teenager.  Which is a lot of why I acted out; even negative attention was attention.  He’s been able to open up to me about how much I scared him as a teenager because I reminded him of himself at that age.  We’ve been able to talk about all the crazy fucked up things that happened between us and within the family.  And I very much feel like I didn’t know who he was until the last 5 or 6 years.  And that’s OK, you’re not suppose to really know your parents until you’re an adult yourself.  The relationship that my dad and I have today is worth all the drama-queen bullshit that we went through when I was younger.

And that’s enough sentimental crap for now.  Here, I present you with 5 more reasons why My Dad is Cooler Than Your Dad.

1) He’s funny.  Really, he has an awesome sense of humor.  It’s filthy and juvenile most of the time, but that’s why it’s awesome.  He raised us kids on Monty Python and all of that good, dark, British humor.  I knew that my Dad and Husband (then, Boyfriend) were going to get along just fine the first time he came down from Montana (it was a long distance thing for about 6 months after we both got out of the army).  Husband and Dad spent about 4 hours sitting on the couch watching South Park together and giggling like schoolgirls.  He’s got that dark humor that makes you think “Oh gods, he’s going to hell, but SHIT, that was funny!”

2) He’s got his priorities straight.  Last year Mother Monster and Papa Bear came to Germany to visit us.  Husband couldn’t take time off work so the three of us spent like 3 weeks just bumming around Europe.  I took them to Munich (one of my favorite cities).  When we got there, Mom was on about going to see the Glockenspiel and Shopping and Going to the Altstadt, blah blah blah.  Dad looked me in the eye and said “I don’t give a shit what we do, but I want a giant beer and a pretzel.”  So I took that evening, after seeing the Glockenspiel and shopping with Mom, I took them to the Hofbraeuhaus. You know, the Hofbraeuhaus.  And Giant Beers and Pretzels were had by all.  It was lovely.

3) He’s Internet-Hip.  He gets memes and understands me when I reference them.  He knows what Rule 34 is.  If that doesn’t convince you, let me tell you what happened on Friday:  I got an Edible Arrangement on Friday from Mom and Dad for my birthday.  I assumed that they had both decided to send me chocolate covered strawberry goodness and called Mom to thank her.  Got her voicemail. So I called Dad at their house (he works from home).  He answered the phone and I thanked him for the present he had no idea that Mom had sent me.  So we chatted about it for a few moments and then I mentioned that I had taken a picture of it and put it up on facebook.  To which he responded “”You know I don’t like shit about me being out on Facebook. Don’t make me come down there and put a bullet through your laptop!” I laughed my ass off and then reminded him that he doesn’t own a .45. “Well, then I’ll come to Texas, borrow your .45 and put a bullet in your damn laptop!”

4) He’s a big old softy.  He talks a big game about my mom’s “fucking ridiculous dog” but he loves her.  And honestly, he’s not wrong, she’s a french bulldog and she IS ridiculous.  But he’s so cute with Zoe when he thinks no one is watching.  He also talks a lot of shit about my “stupid fucking cats”, until one of them jumps up on his lap.  Then it’s petting and cooing “who’s a good kitty?!?”  He’s also enough of a softy that he *really* wants grand kids.  And Husband and I have no intention of giving them to him.  But as I am married and my sister is not, we still get the occasional bit of pressure from him about procreation.  When they were in Germany last year he managed to make it until the last day of their visit before starting in on Husband.  While he was packing up their stuff the night before they flew back to the states he casually dropped “Oh, and Husband? I would like some FUCKING GRAND BABIES BEFORE I DIE.”  “Um, Dad, don’t do that.  Leave him alone.  This is awkward now.”  To which he cackled like a hyena and said “I’m Just Sayin’.”

5) He truly enjoys life.  He laughs a lot.  He realizes that life is too short to be angry all the time and laughs as much as possible.  And when he laughs, he sounds like a squeaky toy.  No, really, he does.  He’ll guffaw for a second or two then start giggling and when he really gets going, he doesn’t make any noise except for the occasional squeak and he just shakes with laughter.  It’s hilarious.  His laugh makes me laugh.  He laughs with his entire body and soul.

****EDIT: This was supposed to go live last night, but I was waiting to hear back from my dad about whether or not it was OK to talk about him on the internet.  He wrote me back late last night with the following:

That was very sweet, honey. Thanks.
and we went to N. Phx because it was the Discount bookstore..  🙂
So now we know the reason we drove way the fuck up to North Phoenix to go to the bookstore.  😀