Oh, Pa!

Dad gave me a scare the other day. He's been retired for almost a year, and I've been concerned the nearly-sedentary life he's now leading has taken its toll. This is a dude that used to work 12-hour days, six days a week for the love of God!

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Dad: You know, this time of year it's hard on me. It's so cold, I don't want to go anywhere and I'm trapped inside. The sun hardly shines. It sucks ass.

Me: Dad-- I'll take you out. Where do you want to go?

Dad: No, I'll be fine by March. Then it'll be April.

Me: A lot of people have S.A.D.

Dad: Oh, no. Forget about that. I'll be happy because the Gay Games will be in town!

Me: Is there something you need to tell me?

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Dad proceeds to tell me that he's not gay (mom will be relieved!) but wants to help out at the Gay Games. He's going to support the athletes shouting out phrases like "You ain't got no junk in the front. It's all in the trunk." And this doozy: "Want a sucker, Tom Tucker?"

And here I thought Dad was depressed or something.

He also has some marketing ideas for the Gay Games. He intends on buying 50 pair of panties and selling them as souveniers, with the added-value selling point of "the stains are free." Niiice.

Wrong. Very. Wrong.

Then I informed Dad that the Gay Games aren't coming until 2014.

Sigh.

xoxo,

RiRi