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!

=====================

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?

===============

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

Oh, Ma! Oh, Pa!

The day after (wasn't that a movie? )... my cousin's wedding.

The ceremony was absolutely breathtaking and picturesque. My cousin looked so handsome with his boyish face, and the bride was beaming.

The trip to the nupitals was a bit harried. Dad did indeed bring his 'bodyguard'-- an old work buddy of his. And yes, he was packin' some heat. Cute little .38! I was smart enough to ride shotgun, because I needed to "assist dad with directions if needed." Plus, the thought of sitting in the backseat with Mom for 45 minutes without alcohol or any place to escape was a punishment no one deserves. My ticket to Heaven has already been punched, so why torture myself?

I knew my Dad was hard of hearing, but I didn't realize I needed to shout. All the time. So, we have mumbling Mom in the backseat trying to converse with Dad, who is shouting and not paying attention to the road. I finally convinced Dad that it was okay to go slightly above the speed limit so we could actually make it to the wedding on time.

Unfortunately, there was time to kill between the wedding and reception. I was gonna hang at the parental ranch, but realized, I needed a break. Whew! Sanity for an hour!

Then the reception. Dad confronted the photographer because everyone was told he never showed to do pictures at one location, and everyone was up-in-arms. Dad barked, "Hey, Asshole, why didn't you show up like you were supposed to, you..." The photog, sensing his impending death, corrected Dad. The limo driver is actually the one who abandoned the newlyweds. Somehow, they made it to the reception via bus. But fear not, we will track down the limo driver and serve a little justice. Dick.

Since Dad's friend was an uninvited guest, my Aunt (mother of the groom) asked who he was. She and my other relatives were waiting for an answer:

Rita: "That's mom's boyfriend. Now that Dad's retired, they've been doing all kinds of freaky things. And they have a lot of latex gloves. So, you know. You're never to old to get your swerve on."

Auntie: "What?"

Rita: "You've read STDs are big with the senior community? I can't believe I had to have the safe sex talk with my parents."

My other relatvies found this funny.... did I mention my Auntie is a strict Baptist. Ooops. Someone was being a smart-ass again!

At least it was open bar. Though I had to settle for Bacardi instead of my buddy the Captain, it did numb the pain of my Mom rambling, stumbling, nearly falling into a candle and "accidentally" grabbing a groomsman's ass.

Thank God I was able to text my bff. She talked me out of walking back home...

Some positives:
1. I got to hear a lot of Dad's "stories" on the way home. I love his stories!
2. I was only asked twice if I had a "man friend," and only once if I wanted to get married again.
3. I will never have to see some of these people again.
4. The whole 9-hour day only sucked one ass ball.

Yaaay!

Now, I need a nap.

xoxo,
RiRi

Oh, Pa!

Weddings. A blissful day, celebrating two people who love each each other until "death do us part." It's a day Hallmark and Kleenex love, but others despise.

Like my Dad.

Dad has always been sarcastic, brutally honest and intimidating to most breathing things. Now add "extra deep-fried temper." (and he's medicated!) This is a lethal, yet entertaining combination.

He's been fretting... check that... slow-burning over my cousin's wedding for several reasons.
#1 Why on Labor Day weekend?
#2 Why on a Sunday? And I quote: "Who fucking does that bullshit?"
#3 Why is the "stupid-ass reception an hour away from the wedding, which even isn't in a church, there's no place to park, and it's in that big city on the Northcoast where scumbags live.....?"

It's my little cousin. And honestly, we'll probably never see him again unless someone croaks. He already knows the arrangements are a little... challenging... cuz a few month ago I asked: "Handed your balls over already? Might as well adjust as soon as possible."

So, Dad calls yesterday out of the blue with a proposition.

DAD: What do you think about renting a limo?
Rita: For what?
DAD: This goddamned fucking wedding I don't want to go to. I'm only going because your Mother and you are. (as if he has no free will.)
Rita: Dad-- that would be really expensive.
DAD: That's not what I asked!
Rita: (almost tinkling in her pants) Sure. Whatever you want.
DAD: Well, I'm not driving my car. It's paid off. I don't know where to park. What if someone hits my car? And, we're taking an armed guard with us.
Rita: What?!?! We're not going into Afghanistan or South Central. This isn't Boyz in The Hood. Please.
DAD: There's nothing but scumbags running around that city.
Rita: Seriously? An armed guard.
DAD: I ain't fucking around.

This from the man that was shot twice in Vietnam. This from the man who stabbed one of his co-workers with a fork in the hand because he made a smart-ass comment about me when I was in high school... Dad may be older, but he's still very large and very much in charge. (As Dad would say: "I may be too old to kick your ass, but you better believe I'm still thinking about it.")

Dad changed his mind about the limo. That's a whole different story.... So, Dad will drive us all to the blessed event... of course, now that he drives completely at the speed limit, it may take a while to get there. I am praying that the reception is open bar. Dad bitchin'; Mom trying to find me a man.... yeah... to quote a friend of mine: "that sucks ass balls." I don't really know what those are or what that means, but I'm presuming it will.

Be kind. Say a prayer.

xoxo,
RiRi

Oh, Ma! Oh, Pa!

It's tradition. The folks come over for any and all holidays, and I cook up a storm. It was no different this Father's Day. We ate. We talked. We laughed. All was well in the world.

It's tradition. Mom and Dad bring back the Tupperware they took leftovers in from the last feast so I can pile more nummies for them to take back home. Usually, my parents throw a bunch of other stuff in the bag: a bottle of Diet Coke; magazines Mom subscribes to but never reads; random clothing items...

But this one takes the cake. For some reason, latex medical gloves were in the bag. I was afraid to ask why. My mind started swirling: Is this a reminder of how I should've stuck with being a doctor instead of dabbler-in-all-things-but-master-of-nothing? Is there a new Father's Day tradition where I'm supposed to check Dad's prostate? And WhyTF do my 'rents have latex gloves in the first place? Are they really playing doctor? Do they break open a box of wine and look at each other's sphincters on a Saturday night?

Needless to say, I needed the box of wine... I might sprout some balls and ask them what the dealio is. But I'm not sure if I really want to know the answer. Cuz really, who just happens to have a box of latex gloves laying around besides a doctor and a hooker?

Oh, God! I know Dad's overtime hours got cut....

Vurp.

xoxo,
RiRi