Adventures with my Father

Now to those of you who know me understand that my dad and I have a very special relationship. We bond over chicken piccata, he collects spiders from the garage and leaves them on my bed, and we both own cowboy boots.

I am going to share some of our more interesting memories in which we experienced while being "roommates.

I had the pleasure of spending an entire summer living with my dad before my sophomore year of college. I learned that his snoring can be heard from the other side of the house with 3 different doors closed and that I should never leave underwear that says, "SHUTUP AND KISS ME" in the dryer where my he will find them. To be fair when I bought them I really had no idea they said that.

 My dad is known as "The  Aggravater" or "Cupcake". "Aggravater Dad" does things like chase me around the house with a spider trapped under glass and a piece of paper while I spray pledge at him until he corner's me and throws the spider at me as I shriek in fear of the eight legged beast. Nearly in tears as my dad is pissing himself laughing so hard he shows me that its just a fake spider drawn on the computer paper. What an asshole right?

Well later that evening I was sitting in the computer room when I can hear my father pawing through the kitchen. This is how he earned the nickname, "Cupcake". I instantly knew what he was looking for. His favorite lady in the whole world. 

Debbie, you're a trifalin hoe.

 LITTLE DEBBIE. Those of you who do not know me, I find the need to hide things people should not have. As a child I would stow my mom's cigarettes in various locations, I once hid an ex-boyfriends chain wallet from him in his own bedroom because it was hideious and I didn't want to be seen with a Jax Teller wannabe, and you bet I hide the Hostess/Little Debbie artery clogging confections from my father.

People just don't understand I am just trying to protect them. Anywho, I can hear dad hunting for his tasty treats, pour himself a tall glass of milk and make his way over to the computer room. 

"Chrisssssteeeeeeeena" he whines. 

"Where are the Little Debbies!?!?"

He sounds desperate. I can hear him inching closer. I'm smirking because he will never find them. That's when I heard it. The slip, the bang, the crashing of the cup to the floor. I stop in my tracks, stunned for a moment, worried that my dad is incapacitated and I am the only one who can save him.

I erupt from the chair to the doorway where I see my dad Shamu style on the floor clutching his hand.

Shamu Style

"Fuck" I thought, "His arm is broken". 

He looks up at me with tears in his eyes and cries out, " Myyyyyyyy pinnnnnkkkyyyy". All while clutching his hand in complete and utter pain. I couldn't believe it, my dad is not a small guy, he is relatively masculine, and he was sitting there in shambles over his pinky finger?

That's when I lost it. For a good 45 minutes I could not stifle my laughter. After cleaning up the spilled milk, getting him a band aid and cleaning his "wound" I was still hysterical.  He was getting angrier and angrier. He claims he fell where I had sprayed pledge at him that morning during the spider fiasco.  Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't but I like to call that karma.

Sharing embarassing stories about my family members is only okay if I tell you about not so shining moments of mine. So some of you may know that I am a 'little bit' (being an understatement) of a country fan. My lovely father to whom I just spoke of bought me VIP tickets to go see Brad Paisley at Seacoast Country Fest (probably still feeling bad about tormenting me with bugs 2 years ago). 

Well my friend and I started drinking at 3pm...Unfortunately we never actually made it to our seats and I will never know what was in my "VIP gift bag". But I can tell you that my cell phone died at the end of the concert and I was left running back and forth around Scarborough downs searching for my dad who was picking up his "mature & sophisticated" 21 year old daughter. In this time I managed to give my number to a hot guy when I was supposed to be finding my dad, stopped a woman in her car to drunkenly borrow her cell phone (turns out she knew me when I was a baby..go figure)..and then I hopped on a golf cart with event security and made him weave through traffic to find the escalade in the disaster of cars waiting to leave Scarborough Downs.  He dropped me off, I popped myself into the back seat, buckled up, looked at my father and demanded he get me a cheeseburger. Who did I think I was David Hasselhoff?  The funny thing is he really did speed off to Wendy's along with 78% of the concert attendees just to get me a late night drunken snack. On the way I suddenly realized I had to pee. It was urgent. Incredibly urgent and I began to yell very loudly.This is where I have to make my dad pull behind Dunkin Donuts so I can pee behind their dumpster in the woods. I am lucky I didn't come face to face with a skunk. Eventually I got my cheeseburger and the next morning I noticed a trail of bacon leading from the car to the house so I am assuming I enjoyed it. I'm sure my dad enjoyed watching me scurry behind a dumpster to pee and my belligerent yelling about fast food because who wouldn't want a daughter who is just that cla$$y?

Well there you have it, a glimpse into my super special relationship with Johnny D. Be jealous that your dad doesn't dance to Michael Jackson in his towel  or organize your jewelry box when he's bored.

A Daughter Dose of Teen