Daddy dearest, is that you? Are you reading this right now? If so, please just don't tell me. I don't want to know you are following the stories I tell about being drunk, slutty, naked, and just plain disrespectful.
I emailed my father a bunch of my sister's graduation pictures, and he asked me why the file was so large. I rudely but lovingly told him to get with the 21st century and make a gmail account, since he still uses hotmail. He instantly replied with just his gmail address in the body. (Being a smartass runs in the family.) I asked him when he started that account and he said:
"couple of years now... :-) I set it up as my job search email. I do look at it though, it's the one tied to my facebook page (yes! facebook) OMG."
Say whaaaaaaaat!? No, your eyes are not deceiving you. No, I didn't add my own commentary into that quote. As it turns out, today is not just any day. Today is a very special day. Today is the day my father introduced "OMG" into his vocabulary.
And through my feelings of pride and dismay, I sensed the tiniest bit of sarcasm in his response. Could my father have — gulp — found my blog? Does he know my thoughts on him and Facebook? Daddy ... is that you?
If it is — I ask again — don't tell me. But I would like to inform you darling father that I have appreciated your constant Facebook status updates, the new Robin Hood character you recently created, and the wall post from your neighbor that apologizes for her drunk husband — whom she refers to as "Monkey Man" — going "apeshit" on you at dinner. And I don't know how to properly express my genuine delight in your gift of a Jenny Appleseed plant. Only you Daddy ... only you.