I Will Fight No More Forever

Currently, I am at war with my father. For the past few weeks we have been passively agressively fighting over parking spaces at home. Yes I live with my parents, get over it.

At the end of the day when My Mother, Father, and I all get home from work there is a parking dance that we normally do. My Dad comes home first, usually around 4 p.m. His parking space is in the garage on the right side, to which he normally pulls in to. I come home next at about 4:30, I usually take the lower right hand corner of the driveway, so my mom who comes home a little after me can park in her space on the left side of the garage. This way, my Dad can back out of the garage and get around me. Not a bad arrangement, but Dad hates it. My brother did the same thing in high school and my dad backed into his car one day. Ever since then he's always fearful that he'll do it again. I don't understand what's so difficult about turning your head to look behind you when you back out. I mean, he is like 60 years old now and maybe he just spaces things now, like he may forget I'm even behind him. But I don't think my Father's dementia should mean I have to park in the street.

So, in order to prevent me from taking the back right space for the last two weeks, he has parked in my space, knowing that I won't park in the garage because then I'll have to move my car later at night (God forbid my parents should have their cars sit in the driveway for one fucking hour). Which is a pretty good move, and for a couple days I didn't know how to handle it, and just parked in the street until later on in the evening. But I can't stand the idea of my Dad thinking he's winning. I can't stand it. It's like nails on a chalkboard. It's like getting a papercut. It's like watching a Patrick Swayze movie. So annoying!

Here's my plan:
I started to park in the lower left hand side of the driveway, right next to my Dad, blocking my mom's path into the garage. She has had to park in the street. My thought process is that she is going to get so pissed in a couple days, and yell at me for my parking. To which, I will calmly explain that the reason I'm parking there is because Dad is taking my spot, and that I can't possibly park up more in the driveway because then she'll be blocking me in and will have to move her car when I need to leave. So, she will start complaining to Dad. He will cave, and ipso facto I will win. Dad will park in the garage, I'll get my spot back, and the world will be back in order.

I'm like an evil genious. If you put me in a room with Lex Luther and Hannibal Lecter, I'd eat their kids.

One Good Thing About Favre

Most people that know me understand that I hate Brett Favre. I've hated him his whole career with the Packers, and I won't stop now just because he is now the quarterback of my favorite NFL franchise. I even had a t-shirt made...

So it was to my amusement that I have heard a great nickname for him, one that works for both the people that hate him, and those that love him.

Drum roll...

The Baby Cheeseus

See, it works for me becuase he is a frickin baby, as evident by the crying scene listed on the above shirt.

It also works for those people that think he walks on water and can do no wrong.

I don't know why this hasn't caught on...

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

I was at my friend Jay's place the other night, watching TV and generally relaxing. His girlfriend walks in and starts watching with us. We have a little light chit-chat, but then the conversation turned a little serious when Jay's girl accuses me of having a "disgusting porn collection". Now, I have nothing against porn, but I've never actually owned a porn tape in my life. Who needs a video tape when you have the internet now adays. Evedently, Jay had told his girlfriend, upon discovery of his vast array of videos, that his porn stash was mine. Like I would keep my porn at another person's house. So every time I wanted to snap one off, I'd have to drive to fucking Eagan. But the thing is, she believed him!

In the middle of having to defend myself, to which Jay was no help ("C'mon Dayve, Vaginal Encounters, like that's not yours"), the conversation took an abrupt halt when Jay's girl says,
"Why is porn even attractive? It's not beautiful. Like anybody wants to see a close up of anatomy like that. It's way hotter when you can see the whole girl, boobs and ass and everything."
To which my simple reply was, "I don't think guys are thinking "beautiful" when they're doing the things you're doing when you need porn."

And this is the best, I still can't stop laughing...

"Well I think it's gross. Jay, what do you think? Would you rather see a close up of a vagina, or would you rather see the whole girl from farther away?"

Now, I'm no relationship expert, lord knows. But I'm pretty sure this is what they call a "loaded question". There's about a million trillion different ways Jay could have answered that question. And of those millions of trillions of possibilities, Jay decides to go with the worst fucking one I can think of...

"I'd probably go with the whole girl. Because with the close up, it could totally be a hot vagina, but then it belongs to a 400 pound cow."

Well done Jay, well done. And I know I promised I wouldn't post this on the internet, but fuck it, you tried to blame your porn collection on me.

Steve Loves Heroin

My dad has undertaken the task of growing poppy flowers in his garden this year. I'm not sure why he did it, I think he found a packet of seeds in the junk drawer and decided to plant them. They look like any flower really, just a small red flower on a long green stem.

I was smoking my cigarette the other day, and Steve was doing some yardwork. "Hey Dayve, you should try some of those poppy seeds, they make heroin out of those you know, you can get high. Just take some of the seeds out of the pods and smoke them."
"I don't think that's how it works Dad."
"You can take those cigarette papers you use to roll your heaters with and put the seeds in there."
"Again, I don't think that's how it works."

He then goes over to the plants and cuts a seed pod off the stem and hands it to me. "There's a world of magic and fun in all those little seeds."

So, not only does my dad encourage me to use drugs now, he wants me to start with one of the worst ones man has made. And for some reason, his nostalgia on the seed pod makes me think he wishes he could have been a junkie at some point. Mind you my dad is an ex-high school teacher, who would tell us stories about all the pot smokers he would bust in the woods behind his school. I know he was joking with me, but the only thing I could think of is the scene in Half Baked where Chapelle is talking about how parents look to find ways to bond with their kids, and all they needed to do was maybe spark a joint every now and then. Perhaps I should get out a needle and a spoon for some quality time with Dad, fuck throwing a ball back and forth.

[UPDATE]
When confronted the next day by my mother, who thought my father's suggestion was more than a lapse in judgement, my dad said "I just thought Dayve should be more fun, that's all."

I Do Not Think It Means What You Think It Means

Dad: "The Twins got killed tonight against the Blue Jays. They really got their asses wiped"
Me: "I think you mean kicked"