A History of Self-Amusement

My father is right now in St. Louis, Missouri, visiting his father. He phoned me today and mentioned that he's been driving my cousin's old, beat up, teensy weensy, Geo Tracker around town. This is the most appropriate picture I could find:


My dad, but slightly less putzy... many more gray hairs... NO stupid, Hawaiin shirt, and a much less shiny vehicle

So he says to me, "I'm having to drive Tommy's (my cousin's) old Tracker... (Here I say "I can't see you in a car like that, Dad)... Yeah, but it's got a good, expensive sound system that Tommy installed... A little old lady pulled up next to me at a red light and I had it turned up fairly loud... I was looking at her and she looked over at me... only to see a middle-aged, gray-bearded man booming the bass of something like Limp Bizkit or Nine Inch Nails... She just shook her head in disgust and drove away."

Thanks goes to you, Dad... For momentarily portraying the image of a wannabe-hip, over-the-hill, victim of midlife crisis to a judgemental, old, white lady.... all for the sake of comedy.

...Way to raise a sadistic, cynical, humor-lovin', foul-mouthed daughter; this blogsite wouldn't be possible if it weren't for your ridiculous child rearing skills.