Tag Archives: Fathers

Shit My Dad Sends

Toronto is a big city right? right? Then why does it feel so small sometimes!?

So I went on a date last night with someone I met online (gasp, I know), I’ll call him the Italian. So creative.

Pretty early on in the evening we discovered that we have some mutual friends – well friends to him, family to me.  He used to work with two of my cousins and seems to know them fairly well.  Definitely not that surprising, and the connection was easily established as I sport my Cousin’s company logo on my cell phone.

We chatted a bunch about my cousins – who are awesome, so we had tons of funny stories to discuss – and moved on to other topics.  Turns out that we have a lot in common as we have likely been a at least a dozen of the same parties, worked in the same building for a few years, were probably at some of the same concerts back in our punk days (wow, I’m old – back in the day totally applies here), and even grew up in similar suburbs.

After a few pints we headed to a different bar and during our first pint there he raised his eyebrow and said “So what do you know about Uncle Bill?”


“You mean my Dad?!”

Hysterical laughter.

Backstory: My Father is a bit of an email junky.  He loves to forward absolutely everything that he ever sees on the internet on to different groups of people.  I mostly get emails about Cats.  He has another group, however, that get the more risqué deliveries.  And by risqué, I most definitely mean Porn.

So I guess my Cousin has on occasion flipped an email to the Italian and indicated the source as ‘Uncle Bill’.

So my Dad has sent porn to a guy I just started dating.  Awesome.




Filed under Awk-ward, Events in Review, Funny Ha-Ha, How Embarrassing, Story Time

Youngest Unmarried Daughter

Get the GuyFor some reason or another, my parents have always referred to me as their Youngest Unmarried Daughter – which has always seemed like an unnecessary specification, since until this coming September their Elder daughter was also unmarried.  While at the same time, I consider myself to have been blessed with parents that generally let me do my own thing, and haven’t been on a quest to marry me off ever since I hit puberty.

However, it appears as thought my Father is starting to get concerned about a possible life of Spinsterdom in my future.  Cue this morning, when I receive the following email from my father:

Hi Honey;

This morning on Canada AM, Beverley interviewed the author of this book:

Link to Get the Guy: Learn the Secrets of the Male Mind to Find the Man you Want and the Love you Deserve

I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but the guy interviewed well and seems to have some excellent ideas on how girls like you can catch the man of your dreams!  I was going to order this for you, but didn’t know if you’d prefer the hard/soft cover, or the Kindle edition, so I thought I’d ask?

You’re here this weekend, so I can buy the version you want then!

Trying not to be horrified – I reminded myself that he means well and this was coming from a good place.  Really trying not to focus on and hyper analyze the ‘Girls like you’ comment.  Keeping in mind as well that my Father believes that HE should receive a dowry when he marries off a daughter, so this is likely a wealth management tactic for him as well.  Regardless of how misguided, I requested the electronic version.

Will post update on new found love shortly, I’m sure.


Filed under Awk-ward, Events in Review, Funny Ha-Ha

Texts From Dad

My Dad is a hyper-communicator. He abuses phone and email like its his job. Texting, however, has generally seemed beyond him.

Actually, upon review, I’ve only ever received texts from him on three separate occasions – once in December 2011 with the simple request of Please Call, the second this New Year wishing me well and claiming he was in God’s Country (Lake Placid… Really? Didnt know it was Devine) and finally this gem:

Thanks for the “I’m on the train” update, presumably passed on because I had coordinated his ticket for him. More importantly though, the eloquently acronymmed WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU.

I think my response was appropriate – especially given I was, quite literally, in Miami, bitch.


Filed under Uncategorized

TMI, Dad

… But thanks for the warning.

As Peggy and I journeyed back to Toronto early on this sunny morning, my Father placed one of his numerous (and expected) phone calls. Normally these calls range in purpose:

• To list things we may have forgotten -ok, the time with the laptop and the time I left my wallet were totally justified
• Often he wants to check on our progress – really? How far can we get in 20 minutes?
• Sometimes he just calls to pass on anecdotes he forgot to share over the weekend – and we wonder why I yammer so much?

He quite often phones me when I’m at work to check how the rest of the ride was, as well. I miss you too, Dad.

Today, however, was different. Dad had taken it upon himself to ring us and warn of a possible oncoming issue.

Apparently his flatulence had been of the problematic variety, and was concerned it was something that he (and therefore Mom and I) had eaten. So… Ok, I’ll be careful passing wind then – thanks Dad.

Despite the tidings of doom, I experienced nothing more than garden variety gas today.

Does this count as Fatherly wisdom?



Filed under Events in Review, Funny Ha-Ha

Extra Pickles, Please.

I distinctly remember the moment I decided I loved pickles.  It was probably the most agreeable moment of my life, and I’m definitely not generally characterized as being ‘agreeable’.  I was in the neighbourhood of 7-9 years old (I remember the details of the scenario, not the date – mmkay?), my Father asked me if I wanted a pickle and responded with something snotty like “No! I don’t like pickles!” which is pretty much what I said about anything I didn’t want to try.  Instead of my Father using one of his charateristic threats like “I’ll rub it in your hair” he just explained that he genuinely thought I would enjoy pickles if I gave them a chance.  Given my life-long penchant for all things salt and vinegar related – he wasn’t really reaching here.

My father then took the jar out of the fridge, removed a pickle and carefully quartered it.  I thought it looked vile, and smelled really weird.  Needless to say, something about my Father’s approach made me react differently to the item on offer.  Shockingly, I’m usually known to be stubborn – which is pretty much why I’m certain the ‘rub it in your hair’ threat was empty, as I’m sure I would have downright refused things on most days and I have no memories of rinsing any uneaten meals out of my hair.  That day, however, I carefully investigated the quartered pickle, picked it up and took a hesistant bite.  To my Father’s delight, I quickly finished the rest of the quarters and discovered my love for gherkins.  My Father and I ended up sitting there and polishing off the entire jar.

Ever since that day, anytime I order anything that can come with pickles, I order it with extra.  In the fast food world, “extra pickles” is normally met with a single extra slice on my burger.  I always know how many pickles I’m given on a burger since I think they are too good to waste, and open up my burgers to enjoy them first and separately.  Its a habit I can’t break.

Since arriving in Sydney last November, and again this January, I have been eating a large amount of Subway sandwhiches for lunch.  Given that the other nearby options are plentiful but either busy or wholly unhealthy, subway seems like a safe bet.  Regardless of what type of sub I order (although, its Pizza like 90% of the time), I always ask for extra pickles when they are topping my sub.  A solid 100% of the time I have had to ask for more pickles after I find the first layer to be insufficient.  Until today.

I’m not sure if I’ve just beaten this particular Sandwhich Artist into submission with my constant repitition of “Can I have some more pickles, please?” or if she was just trying to be funny – but after a single uttering of extra pickles today, this is the sandwhich I received:

Would you like some sandwhich with your pickles?


Filed under Events in Review, Pictures Tell a Thousand Words