Saturday, April 5, 2014

Nice Catholic Girl to Wanton Biker Hoochy

Where did I go wrong? I tried raising my daughter in the right way. Taught her good values. Had a very uncomfortable (but frank) sex talk with her while she was on the swing-set. Told her to eat her vegetables and shut her hole, all the respectable things parents should do.

Through-out her edumacational years, she was a good student; shy, sweet, never a hair out of place.

Then it all ended.

Yesterday morning I heard this horrendous chopping sound outside. To my open-mouthed dismay, I watched as my daughter got off the back of a Harley. Leather-wearing dude driving. Gah!

Twenty-one years old and now she decides to rebel.

Well, you know what? I'm rebelling back. I've had it. Two can play at this game. No longer will I tolerate such insolence. Instead I'm going to join the game. I told her I'm going to wear mid-riff t-shirts and skinny jeans. And getting a "tramp-stamp" tattoo that reads, "Luscious." It won't be pretty. Don't care. Payback can be a beeyotch. And when her friends come around, I'm going to spout all kindsa' ludicrous "hipster" lingo like, "Hey, hey, hey, Stuart's in the hizzy-house," and "What up, yo?" and "You feel me, blood?" and "Peace out."

Parents! It's time for us to take back the night. I'm calling for a revolution. And the war starts here. So, hitch up those "mom jeans" and proudly wear them over your navel! Display that comb-over like a trophy! Don't be afraid to own up to having a Hall and Oates eight-track tape in your closet!

I can't wait for the day when my daughter says, "Dad, you're being dumb. Quit embarrassing me."

How will I respond? Gonna' get on my new Harley, of course, toss her the two-fingered metal salute, and leave her in a blaze of smoke.


7 comments:

  1. Oh my. I can't wait to see all these changes in you. I tell my boys if they're not respectful that I'll start going out and leaving them home alone. I've even suggested to them that they quit school and play video games all day.

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    1. In the tattoo parlor now, Suzanne. You guys want pictures?

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  2. Ah, children... If they are not the death of us, then at least we can use them as the excuse for our various mental disorders and weird facial tics.

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    1. Good observation, Michael. I blame my daughter entirely for my homicidal tendencies.

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  3. I dunno, Stuart... A love of motorcycles... Sounds like you raised her right to me.

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    1. Hi, Stacey, you daredevil, you. Tell you what, girl, I'll send her and her Harley pal over to you, let them stay for a month. Then we'll talk.

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