I'M BLOGGING AGAIN!
Today's entry is about my sitcom family, as per usual.
A couple days ago my father was doing yard work outside, and decided he wanted to go to the bar for a beer. He's wearing the oldest, most worn-out dad-jeans possible with a gaping hole in the thigh, his hair is all a mess, ratty sweatshirt.
"I'm going out for a beer," says my father.
"You should change your pants first," says my mother.
My father looks down, and he says "I don't care what I look like!"
He says this a lot, as a point of pride I think. I'm not sure why he tries so hard to NOT care what he looks like, as if he's winning the "Saggiest dad-jeans butt" award.
I DIGRESS.
I decide to rally the troops and support my mother's claim, telling my dad "You should change your pants."
He says nobody at the bar cares about what he looks like (side note: the bar in question is pretty freakin' seedy, like Cheers but in Detroit somewhere, I imagine.)
He valiantly claims that he wants to go out looking like a hobo, and no one will mind.
Although, he says "Well, maybe the women at the bar care what I look like.."
"Yes dad," I say, "Mom is desperately hoping that a young woman comes and whisks you away from her. So change your pants."
And he did.
Today's pic is a gem from my favourite bird twitter. The internet is an amazing place.
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