Dad-
Whats up? Seriously. Ever since you got married, your phone call frequency has not only decreased in quantity (something I never thought would happen, and am actually grateful for, so please thank your new wife for me!) but sadly they have also decreased in quality.
Don't you know I blog about you? You and William are my bread and butter. No one cares about me. They want to read about the ridiculous shit the two of you put me through - how the two of you entertain me! If you are no longer able to fulfill this duty, I am going to have to ask William to become a lot funnier. Quite frankly, he's stretched pretty thin as it is. And I'm not sure he's up to the job.
In addition to the lack of conversations/voice mail fodder that I can blog about, you've been threatening me. Threatening me! Threatening to get online and 'find me'. I learned that your new bride is not only out buying a new computer that she intends to show you how to use (good luck, Maria), but you are also already signed up for, and are already paying for, internet service in your new apartment! And I believe you said that once this new computer was set up that you were going to "yahoo, google and even twizzle"! (by the way, that's "tweet", not "twizzle". You'll learn...)
And sure I've teased you about your gigantic sausage fingers for years - how they wouldn't fit on a keyboard, how I couldn't even figure out how you could dial a cell phone, and how you would never figure out how to get online - but now that you're married to someone who has actually been on the 'world wide web' I have reason to fear that you *will* find me. That you *will* read about me. That you *will* learn and see things you wish you hadn't.
For this brief time being, I know I am safe. Because despite the fact that two of your sisters (my aunts) read my blogs, they understand that there are certain things they've learned about me as a result of my blogs that they should not share with you. And I applaud their silence, thank you Aunt Diane and Aunt Dovey (who I believe told you the things I write about would "make your hair curl"). But they are women. And they understand that I, myself, am a grown woman. I think - no, I know - that you still perceive me as the little girl you once knew. And if you want to hold onto that image of me, you should not go online. You should not "google, yahoo or twizzle" me. You'll find out and see things you wish you hadn't.
So let's turn back time, shall we? Stay off line. Go back to the annoying phone calls. The three voice mails a day, even. All of which make me roll my eyes and some that are entertaining enough for me to record and blog.
Sincerely,
Your little girl,
Sheryl (aka "Chicky" or "P.G." - Pretty Girl)
7 comments:
While I am certain that your dad reading your blogs would be disastrous for his little girl image of you, I find the thought of him banging around on the net with his sausage fingers hilarious and intriguing. I can't wait to hear about his internet adventures and shenanigans, and can you even IMAGINE the 'twizzles' he'd post?? Serious comedy gold is about to land in your lap!
When my dad threatened to start reading my stuff I just asked him if he REALLY wanted to read about his daughter's sex life? I said that it was fine if he did, but he should know what he was getting into.
My poor Irish Catholic dad's jaw dropped along with the topic. Occasionally I'll send him clean stuff I've written, just so he can see I'm not just a completely unrepentant slut.
okay, i thought i was the only person blessed with "chicky" for a childhood nickname. that said, i hope for your sake (or your dad's, anyway) that he follows your advice and returns to his old-timey ways. but i'd personally welcome more william fodder. i (heart) william. and like the viewer of any like sitcom, i'm secretly waiting for the two of you to get together. ;)
Lore- You're right. I think his 'twizzles' would be hilarious. I just don't want him reading my blogs or seeing my photos.
Judy- good thinking. I guess he realized he was better off not reading everything.
Mitzi- he called me Chicky because apparently, when I was just born, my great Grandpa Mario saw me in the hospital and said to my Dad "Tommy, she has legs just like a chicken!" My whole family are butchers so they've seen their share of chickens. And I guess my bent little baby legs looked chicken-like? My Dad called me "Chicky" as a result.
That's so cute that your dad calls you P.G. and maybe there should be a social networking site called Twizzle.
OMG Mitzi, I thought I was the only one waiting for Ms. Bitch Cakes and Sour Balls to go for the no pants dance! I can see it now...they are working late...when suddenly she catches his eye...she's batting her eyes and arching her back...he's stroking his laptop...and then....LUST EXPLODES!!!! (cut away to image of a train going through the tunnel...) ;p
Mitzi and Nora: THERE IS NOT ENOUGH ALCOHOL IN THE WORLD to make me & William ever get together. EVER. I swear I'm as likely to get with my brother as I am with William. It's never ever going to happen. Gag!!!!! Thanks for the laugh though :)
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