My Father (by The Bwaz)

My cat got out of the house last night and has yet to return. I fear the worse. I loved that cat like a child. She was the sweetest, most loving cat I had ever met. I cried all morning. In an effort to console me, Dad tells me how the coyotes must have eaten her and there’s no use looking for her. The guy I’m dating tells me there must be some very happy and full coyotes this morning. Do I see a sick pattern forming here??? Thanks for the consoling guys. I think I’ll go to the vacuum cleaner next time for sympathy. The sad part is I know my dad loved that cat too. We both lost a very special person in our lives today.

My Father (by The Bwaz)

I just found a brochure entitled, “Kyolic Liquid Garlic” by the side of my monitor on my desk. It’s about 23 pages long on the benefits of Kyolic Garlic. I’m pretty sure this isn’t mine. Normally I would throw it away since it looks about 25 years old but tonight, I won’t. Instead I will go place this very old, very informative mini-book on Dad’s speaker since I know it’s his, if I don’t I’ll get yelled at, and he’s probably been looking for it for the past 3 weeks.

My Father (by The Bwaz)

Dan got an electronic dart board for Christmas and since he’s moving into Dad’s house soon, he put it up there. Dad complained the whole time Dan was putting it up. “You’re gonna ruin my walls.” Yes Dad, plastic darts can be a killer sometimes. We put it up, anyways. As soon as the dart board’s up, my Dad grabs a dart and throws it. After that you practically had to push him out of the way to throw a dart. On top of that, playing games against him is terrible!! He is the worst winner in the world. He practically says “Neener, neener, neener every time he wins.” Yesterday he won at the game 301 and screamed to me “HA, in your face loser, in your face.” I refuse to play him in darts anymore.

My Father (by The Bwaz)

Dad calls to tell me I forgot to get beans at the store yesterday. Thanks Dad!!

My Father (by The Bwaz)

My father knocks on my door to tell me that he is going to return the Metabolol to the company he bought it from no matter what the cost. Do you mind?? Can I please get ready in peace? I walk out of my room to his yelling about how what the Metabolol company did is the same thing that Pablo Escobar did with drug trafficking. Huh?!?!? I stop listening. I offer to take his Metabolol to my work, call the company, get his money back, and then ship the product. He tells me “No, the last thing I want is to be without the money AND the product.” That’s funny, I could have sworn that returning defective products WAS MY JOB. I do it every day, but, no Dad, you’re right, I wouldn’t know how to do it correctly. I then hear him make a comment about how he has put the box of Metabolol in front of the door to remind him the mistake he made by ordering over the internet. He tells me I can’t move it no matter what. I think nothing of it. I’m getting ready to leave, walk to the front door and, sure enough, there’s a box about 3 feet high and 1 foot wide sitting RIGHT SMACK DAB in front of the door. I simply walk around the box and head off to work where, once again, I’m gonna be late.

My Father (by The Bwaz)

I get home 1 ½ hours later, after standing in long lines of Christmas traffic, to him still yelling about the Metabolol and now he wants me to email, over the crappy internet, the company he bought it from to bitch at them. Oh please dad, can I? I get home from 8 hours of work, 2 hours of grocery shopping, and now there is nothing more I would love to do then email the company you bought Metabolol from to point out that it’s not the same product it was 10 years ago. This leads to him yelling at me about the Christmas tree that he let come into the house. Funny…. I could have sworn Tom and Stephanie went out, bought that tree, and put it up. His answer to that “What was I supposed to do, stop them?” No dad, that’s ridiculous. Of course I would prefer you to bring it up now, blame me and yell at me for the Christmas tree. The bright side…he’s mad at me right now so he’s not down here following me around, telling me how the Republicans are ruining the economy and how my job as an auditor will be taken over by people in India in 10 years.

My friend Michelle lives with her father and hasn’t spoken to him in 2 years. I’m immensely jealous right now!

My Father (by The Bwaz)

I call Dad to ask him if there’s anything he would like from the store because I’m going there anyways and I’m trying to be nice. He’s had a rough day with the Metabolol nightmare and everything. (sarcasm) He complains for 10 minute more minutes of Metabolol’s lack of morals and how the company must be run by a bunch of Republicans. Why did I even call and ask?

My Father (by The Bwaz)

Dad’s Metabolol, that we ordered over the god-forsaken internet, was delivered. He calls to yell about how crappy the internet is because it isn’t the same Metabolol that he bought 10 years ago. The company we bought it from is “selling stolen products” because it claims on the package to be the same product, but there isn’t as much Vitamin C, protein, etc. Wouldn’t that be Metabolol’s issue, not the company we purchased it from? After yelling at me some more for mentioning this small fact I tell him I have to go because, surprise, surprise, I’m still at work.

My Father (by The Bwaz)

Earthquake in Northern California. Dad calls me to ask if I felt it. No father, did you? No, you didn’t. Excuse me while I get back to work. Oh, there’s my email from CNN telling me the exact same bit of news.

My Father (by The Bwaz)

My father calls me to yell at me because he can’t figure out how to use the internet. Well, that makes sense since I obviously invented the internet so I am obviously the one to call and yell at. Could someone please explain to him that the internet is far from perfect and it will not work great every time? I try to explain this to him but I admit, in between my frustration and yelling, he somehow doesn’t want to hear me. God, please give me the strength to survive my father!

My Father (by The Bwaz)

This morning, as I’m running late for work, daddy-dearest decides that this is the opportune time to accuse me of losing his $450 glasses. His argument is that since he always puts his glasses on the bar or the speaker, I must have moved it. Granted, I’m always cleaning his crap off the bar so my area can look half-way decent, however, I did not remember seeing or moving his glasses. As for the speaker, Tom had cleaned that off when we were trying to make the living room look presentable after going to a lot of trouble to decorate for Christmas. God forbid he just call up Tom and ask him if he’s seen them. No! I have to hear for the remainder of my time getting ready how rude it is to move someone’s glasses and not tell them. As I was leaving I saw his glasses in his hand. His answer as to where they were, “oh yeah, they were next to the couch in my room. I should have looked there first.” No dad, I am thankful that you came and yelled at me and frustrated me at 8:00am Monday morning. Feel free to take your frustrations out on me anytime. I have nothing frustrating at all going on in my life – I will be your punching bag. Off to work…