My Dad Vs. Normal Part III: Thoughts for Food

These are both food related stories but they’re not really about food. Because I don’t talk to my parents, food just happens to be the only (forced) topic of conversation and you will soon see that they’re not much of a conversation.

Dad: Do you want eggs?

Me: No.

Dad: You’re wrong.

What's that you say? We don't know what we're doing with the basketball? You're wrong.

What’s that you say? We don’t know what we’re doing with the basketball? You’re wrong.

That same dialogue exchange has happened many times in the house. The main problem is, by the time my dad asks if I want eggs, he already really wants me to want eggs and expects me to say yes. I say that’s the main problem because that’s not the only problem. He also fails the grasp the concept that I am capable of thought.

I'm capable of thought too. I'm totally making this face on purpose and not because I got some glitter shit in my eye.

I’m capable of thought too. I’m totally making this face on purpose and not because I got some glitter shit in my eye.

The other day, my dad made breakfast for my brother and he didn’t eat it. At night, he asked me why I didn’t eat it when I saw that my brother didn’t eat it. He was more disappointed in me for not eating leftovers than my brother for creating said leftovers. I wish I could come up with a possible explanation for this but I can’t. It’s just plain old crazy.

As crazy as we are about basketball. By the way, where's the basket? Over where? Oh forget it, just touch me.

As crazy as we are about basketball. By the way, where’s the basket? Over where? Oh forget it, just touch my butt.