The Universe Loves Me, the Universe Loves Me Not…

The Universe Hates Me:

Oh sorry, I meant fired.

Jan 3: Job Offer Accepted! I finally get to resign from my horrid, horrid job.

Jan 7: Resignation, and it feels so good.

Jan 10: Job offer….rescinded?!?! But dudes, I already quit my old job!!!

(Later that day):

Me: Can I have old job back?

Boss: Don’t worry.

HR Lady: No, sorry dude. It’s been 3 days, but we’ve already put into place a plan to replace you that cannot be undone. Fuck you.

Me: Let me get this straight. I went from having a new job to having no job?

HR Lady: Yes, as I just said, Fuck you.

Jan 14: New job offer, much better than the one that didn’t work out! Whee!!

Month of February: Second job offer slowly evaporates.

March: Unemployed.

The Universe Loves Me: 

March: Unemployed!

April: New new job offer accepted, and  job ACTUALLY HAPPENS!

The Universe Hates Me:

Nothing personal, valued subordinate female employee.

My last day at the firm was supposed to be Jan 31. But because they like to humiliate you there, HR lady calls me in her office a couple weeks before on a Friday afternoon to say: Boss and Managing Partner decided that today’s your last day. Don’t worry, it’s nothing personal.

Boss, who I spent the entire morning with and who acted like everything was cool, conveniently out of the office that afternoon so that, after I worked for him for 5 years, he doesn’t have to say goodbye to me.

The Universe Loves Me:

At least I had time to fart in Boss’s chair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Universe Hates Me:

Two days into unemployment: timing belt breaks on Kia, destroying the engine. Have to sell for scrap.

Break my timing belt, break my heart.

The Universe Loves Me:

Friend Clark Kapowski works at car dealership, gets me a sweet sweet deal on a new Prius!

Courtesy of Clark Kapowski.

The Universe Hates Me:

And then THIS happened. A fucking tree fell on my fucking house.

The Universe Loves Me:

Cat has unobstructed view to the street.

Wrong way, Stupid.

The Universe Hates Me:

Distracted by the fucking fuck tree, we ran out of oil.

So, as always, we called Paul’s Oil to come and bleed the furnace.. But they couldn’t come because Paul died. Seriously, Paul died. That is not funny.

The Universe Loves Me:

Nothing can make this right.¹

The Universe Hates Me:

I feel tired, like, all the time. And then I’ll sleep too much and feel lousy about it.

The Universe Loves Me:

I get to wake up to this every morning.

The Universe Hates Me:

Sometimes I have not been able to find graphics for my blog that I thought would be easy enough to find, and it’s really weird and I worry it has some deep scary cultural meaning. Just try finding: Co-Worker in Ugly Outfit or Pregnant Woman Running Scared in the Woods. Universe (i.e., Google), why dost thou forsake me?

The Universe Loves Me:

When I search for images of Martin Freeman doing something, they are always readily available. Seriously, try it.

Martin Freeman disco dancing.

 

Martin Freeman bubble bath

Martin Freeman hamburger boobs

 

Martin Freeman getting attacked by a tree that’s probably about to fall on someone’s house

 

Martin Freeman really sad your cat died

Martin Freeman rainbow hat

 

Martin Freeman taking a hypothetical dump.2

Conclusion:

“Disappointment is an endless wellspring of comedy inspiration.”

– Dr. Martin Freeman

—————

¹ Derek: Nothing? What about the fact that I learned how to bleed the furnace myself and we have hot water and I have a sense of my own power and independence?

Me: What about PAUL, Derek, what about PAUL?!?

 

² Derek: I don’t think you can use “hypothetical” like that. How could “dump” be “based upon hypothesis or conjecture?”

Me: Well, we certainly know that yours aren’t.

Derek: No one thinks you’re funny.

 

True Confessions II: I’m Dumb as Bricks

 I got into an Ivy League law school. Aren’t I amazing?

The one I got into was the one with the suicide gorge, so I decided I had better not go there. Smart and wise….

BUT…also dumb as bricks. Here are some of my greatest hits:

1.  One time in my early 20’s I applied for a copyrighting position. That’s right- “copyright.” I also asked for a salary that was “commiserate” with my experience and education. Still not sure why I didn’t get an interview.

A great source of wool…

 

2. In a college psychology class, the professor was asking what cotton and wool had in common. I had already piped up about double letters and that they are both fabrics, when I took it too far: “they both come from plants.” I said it with such authority that the professor nodded. I quickly corrected to “I mean…they are both natural fibers,” but the damage was done.

3.   Me: What’s the difference between Citizen Kane and Slumber Party Massacre?

You: I don’t know, what?

Me: I’ve seen Slumber Party Massacre.

That’s all he ever wanted out of life… was love. That’s the tragedy of Charles Foster Kane. You see, he just didn’t have any to give.

4. As a child, I thought the Dukes of Hazzard was a drama.

Luke Duke can go fuck himself.

 5. It took me a really long time to understand the proverb, “A stitch in time saves nine.” Nine what, dammit!!! Nine what? People? How does time save them? And is this “in time” thing some sort of a metaphysical state of being?

6. One time I thought the Pats were playing the Patriots. In baseball.

7. I was assisting a very arrogant trial attorney named Mark at court. He was giving his closing statement, and told a few mild jokes during it that we all chuckled audibly to. Then he said to the jury, “Now, the plaintiff’s attorney is going to say a few words after me. And while he’s talking, I want you to think to yourselves, ‘What would Mark say?’” It sounded strikingly similar to “What Would Jesus Do” and so I laughed out loud with everyone else. Only, no one else was laughing. Mark wasn’t impressed.

Jesus, Attorney-at-Law: What would Jesus Do?
Opposing Counsel: Objection!
Judge: Sustained.
GOD: Overruled. Jesus, you may proceed.

 

8. Many of my misunderstandings with the world have more to do with my ears than my mind. Examples of my hilarious hearing deficits:

1. Take it with a grain of salt = Take it with a great assault
2. George Michael song “Too Funky” – “Would you like me to seduce you, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”  =  “Would you like me to introduce you, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

9. My mom has her own vocabulary. I call it Judyspeak. This propensity for neologisms led to some problems. For example, I thought for years that “Mondale Button” was the scientific term for a cat’s butt. Thanks, Mom.

10. When I was about 5, my older and slightly overweight cousin Ginny asked me if she looked pregnant. The word “pregnant,” however, was tragically way past my pay grade. But I couldn’t expose my ignorance. I figured I had a 50/50 chance of getting the question right, so I went for it. “Yes?” Ginny wasn’t impressed.

Are you gonna eat that?

 11. Probably that same year, there was all this weird pink stuff on the ground that kind of looked like bubblegum. I asked my dad what it was, and he freaked out. “Kristy! That’s insulation! It’s made out of cancer! Don’t go near it, don’t touch it, don’t even think about it!” ….Thank God he hadn’t seen me eating it. 

BONUS SECTION

Derek wanted me to put this in my blog today, so here you go:

Million dollar ideas come to me all the time, often in my dreams. I am truly blessed. Last night I came up with another winner: Pizza delivery strippers.

Meat Lovers Pizza- Hold the Sausage.

True Confessions

Look, I’ve got to get a few things off my chest, but you have to promise this stays between you and me.

You: Uh….you’re putting this on the Internet.

Me: Confession #1 – what’s the Internet?

I Lie

A classic case of sun rash.

Lying for coworkers. Natalie and I used to work together as legal assistants. After she left her abusive boyfriend, she went through a “make-out slut” phase[1]. One morning she showed up to work covered in hickeys after a close encounter with a human vacuum cleaner. Natalie told everyone she had a “sun rash.” I stood by her in her time of need, and proclaimed loudly to anyone who would listen, “Ah man, sun rashes are the worst and also they exist. I have totally had like 4 cases of ‘the rashes’ in my life. Let’s all give Natalie some pie.”

Lying to coworkers. Whenever I have to choose between being nice and being honest, I usually pick being nice. If someone has a new hairdo, I tell them I like it, when really I usually feel nothing more than, “I notice you look mildly different.” If someone at work is wearing a loud outfit, I tell her I like it simply to avoid the social awkwardness of gaping and pointing.

Lookin’ good, Deb!

Faking a Pregnancy?? But I’m already married! My senior year in college, I landed a pseudo-acting gig at some fancy schmancy woodsy resort in upstate New York for the summer. I was supposed to lead people around the place pretending it was the 1800s and that I was a new Irish immigrant who had escaped the potato famine. But I had second thoughts. I had recently married, and wanted to follow Didier to France instead of languishing alone in the woods. I waited and waited until the last possible minute to get out of it. Garnering all my cowardice, I sent the resort an email that I was preggers and couldn’t come. The resort dude called and I made Didier answer the phone.

Shame on you, Wife-Child!

For 40 odd minutes, Didier had to deflect the persuasions of the resort guy – “We can make this work! She can get all the prenatal care she wants here in the woods!” After he finally hung up, Didier wouldn’t even look at me. I learned years later, as we were breaking up, that Didier had never forgiven me for my indiscretion, and was “disappointed in me” for lying and making him complicit in the lie, even though the whole point of my charade was so that I could be with him. He did have the moral high ground, though, having only cheated on me once in our five year relationship.[2]

I Cheat

First, let me just explain that I grew into my morals over time. I would never ever ever have cheated in college or law school, where I actually gave a shit. But before I became the paragon of morality you see before you: lazy desperate times called for desperate measures.

Me, being smart and popular.

Original sin. School and me go way back. School was good to me, and I was good to it. In grade school, I was always smarter than everybody — like way, way smarter. That’s why I was able to make so many friends.

Picture it, first grade: there I was, flying high without a care in the world- when all of a sudden I was stopped dead in my tracks. Teach gave us the math worksheet from hell. There was no way to solve it, it was completely inscrutable. I looked around for sympathy. Everyone else was breezing through it. Even Ryan Thibodeau, who sat behind me and drooled on his desk. Time kept ticking by, and there I sat, internally pissing my pants. Teach tried to help me, but to no avail. Finally, she let everyone go to recess, and I was left behind to complete the assignment, abject and alone. Ryan’s finished worksheet winked at me seductively from his desk. Was this a setup? Were there spies everywhere, just waiting for me to take the bait? Or had Teach taken pity on me as I agonized futilely over this veritable Da Vinci Code? Did she want me to cheat? I concluded that she did, and respected her decision.

Er, did I say jazz? Blues! I meant blues!

Muddy, Muddy Waters. 9th grade was my most morally bankrupt year. I was too busy growing a pair of kick ass boobs to give a crap about my immortal soul.  One time Mrs. Cross was forcing us to read biographies and then write book reports. Gross. I was too lazy to read a whole book, so I found some liner notes in a Muddy Waters CD that contained a short biography. Not short enough, though, for my delicate constitution; I just copied it and called it a day. Mrs. Cross called me up after class to have me explain my obvious plagiary. I channeled the State of Florida, and stood my ground. “Uh, well, you see, Mrs. Cross, there were all these jazz terms— he was a jazz musician, right? — that I didn’t understand, so I didn’t know how to put the concepts into my own words.”

Result: B-.

I Steal

It all started in junior high, when I would fill my sweatshirt pockets with gum at the corner store. In 9th grade (of course), I advanced to shoplifting clothes.

Even though I was a totally badass shoplifter, I had a lot of compunction about it. The guilt of my crimes drove me to distraction, and I told my mom everything in a fit of hysterics.

Forgive me! Forgive me! I stole all the gum!

I was so pathetic that instead of punishing me[3], Mom had to rock me back and forth like a baby until I calmed down. She even told me that shoplifting wasn’t so evil, and that she’d done it herself as a child. There was never a discussion about apologizing to store owners or repaying my debt to society, thank God.

For a while, I was cured. But then in 10th grade, shit got real again.

I had been musing to Angela about my glory days:

* Shoplifting 101: pick out a bra you want, and carefully hide it in a big pair of pants, etc. Then go to the changing room with the decoy apparel and pretend you’re going to try it on. Once in the stall, put the bra on under your clothes. Then go out and put the pants on the reject rack. Leave store. Come back another day. Repeat.

Angela could already taste the forbidden fruit of the loom. Resistance was futile; she quickly talked me into pulling one last heist.[4]

The mark: Kmart, the Pierre Cardin of Waterville, Maine. The score: bras and undies. We walked over to Kmart with evil in our hearts.

It would probably have worked out just fine, but we got greedy. Too many panties, not enough pants. Angela panicked, and put all her clothes away. I was about to follow suit, when all of a sudden my mom showed up OUT OF NOWHERE.

“It’s raining really hard so I thought I’d pick you up!” (Thanks for nothing, Mom.[5])

Us, if Kmart had won. Poor Mom got caught in the crossfire.

I froze. “Uh, ok. I’ve just got to try a few things on.”

 

By the time I got to the changing rooms, all of my unmentionables had migrated to the bottom of a pair of pants in one guilty bundle. A young employee began inspecting my wad at the service desk. Just as she was about to come to the undies ball, I pulled it out and confided, “Sorry, I hid them because I was embarrassed walking around the store with underwear.” [6] I had momentarily neutralized the threat. As I walked into a dressing room,  she booked it to the manager. Then I snuck out, and put everything back like it was hot.

Shortly thereafter, a store manager came up to me with menacing adult authority.

“What are you doing?” he barked. But he was no match for me.

“Shopping,” I said witheringly, in cold blood. He limped away, rubbing his deflated ball sacs.

But despite the trail of employee carnage behind me, I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder. Some murky, amorphous retribution was waiting for me.

And Mom was taking forever. “Oh look, Kristy, did you need some notecards?” I just barely got out of there alive.

Result: A narrow escape, a moral victory.[7]

End of Part I

In our next installment of True Confessions: “I Pee My Pants,” “I’m Dumb as Bricks,” and “I Should Have Paid More Attention to After School Specials.”

[1] Don’t act like you didn’t, Trenchmouth.

[2] I never cheated on him, which was the least I could do, considering the gravity of my lies.

[3] I should mention that my mom has punished me a total of zero times in my life.

[4] As you can see, it was all Angela’s fault.

[5] My mom is actually the best mom in the world. If I find out you said anything about her, you’re dead! Well, probably not, but it will really hurt my feelings.

[6] God, I’m good.

[7] My friend Charo wasn’t so lucky. She is permanently banished from Walmart.

 

ONE MORE THING: I encourage you to write your own confessions in the comments!

Things I don’t like about my boyfriend[1]

Derek is pretty cool, I guess, but he has some terrible personality flaws that you need to know about. Now, I don’t think Derek would want me to put up photos of him in a public forum, so I am going to use the celebrity he most resembles as a proxy. Thank you for your face, Martin Freeman.

Derek thinking super profound thoughts. NOT!

1. Derek Won’t Dance

Unless he’s drunk. And he’s only drunk if he’s been out late at clubs with his friends. And I can’t stay out late because I am not some kind of superwoman. So, ipso facto, I never get to dance with my own boyfriend. And man, can I dance. Derek and I have only danced together maybe once or twice in our entire epically-long relationship, and he is completely to blame.

Blotto Derek late night dancing without me.

2. Derek Broke His Wrist

Derek broke his wrist when he hit a rough patch of road while riding his bicycle. And now he’s decided that he won’t ever go biking again. This despite the fact that I have lovely images of us biking side by side, probably holding hands, on a super romantic bike trail that likely leads to relationship heaven.

As you can see, prior to the accident, Derek loved riding his bike.

3. Derek’s Been Wearing a Dumb Leather Jacket that Just Isn’t Working

Derek looking dumb in his dumb leather jacket

As you can see, Derek just doesn’t look good in this jacket. He’s more of a peacoat guy. I wonder if I should say anything.

Derek: But K, I thought you did like it!?!

Me: Derek, the only reason you’ve been wearing it is because you couldn’t find a new winter coat you liked and you found this one buried at your mom and dad’s house.

4. Derek Can’t Read[2]

Derek pretending he can read.

Actually, I like this about Derek, because it’s hilarious. It seems he often just sees the first and last letter of a word, and guesses about its insides. Example:

Derek (reading my Facebook page over my shoulder like a total busybody): What does Theresa have to say?

Me: Trisha. It says Trisha. Are you drunk?

Also, here is a list of words that Derek pronounces wrong:

Word	Word that Comes out of Derek’s Dumb Mouth
Peripheral	Periphreal
Lithe	Lith[3]
Milk	Melk
Centaur	Centarr
Bed and Breakfasts	Bed and Breakfastses
Annals	Anals
Retina	Reteena
Hearth	Herth
Congenital Anemia Pendant	Congenitive Enema Pedant

5. Derek Can’t Swim

What kind of a person who grew up in a coastal town doesn’t learn how to swim? I’ll tell you who: Derek. Now, don’t go assuming he had shitty parents who kept him locked in the basement, not swimming. He had every opportunity to learn, and was too pouty and stubborn to do it.

Derek in the pool, smugly not swimming

6. Derek Doesn’t Like the Beach

Dislike #5 + Dislike # 6 = there goes my Caribbean vacation.

Boo hoo hoo, someone’s trying to make Derek have fun.

7. Derek is Too Cool for Halloween

Derek doesn’t like to dress up for Halloween, and heaven forbid we do a couple’s costume!

Derek: Uh, what about last year when you decided to dress up as me and we were going to be a Double Dose of Derek? So I spent a whole month growing a beard so that you could also have a beard. And then it’s Halloween and you’re like, “No I’m staying inside, I don’t want to go out.” So I grew a fucking beard for nothing, and it was itchy and it was a pain in the ass.

Me: No comment.

DD of D.

8. Derek Put a Razor in the Trash and Then I Cut My Finger on it on Trash Day

Artist’s rendition of Derek throwing the razor in the trash.

9. Derek Doesn’t Like the Common Ground Fair and Refuses to Move to Rural Maine

What kind of a person doesn’t like looking at a bunch of hippies looking at a bunch of animals? Who doesn’t want to learn about turn of the century farming techniques masquerading as new and improved farming techniques?

And everyone knows that rural Maine is a thriving region of the country full of trees, gas stations, and my relatives. Who wouldn’t want to get in on that?

10. Derek Loves the Cat More Than He Loves Me

My Facebook profile picture: a lovely photo of Derek and me at a friend’s wedding, looking happy and in love. My phone wallpaper: a cute silly picture of Derek wearing my kittens and mittens bathrobe. See how much I love him?

Derek’s profile pic? Him and Saul the cat. Derek’s phone wallpaper? Him and Saul the cat. Executor of Derek’s will? Saul the cat.

11. Derek Doesn’t Like Holidays

What a grouch!!!

12. Derek Won’t Wear Deodorant

Derek doesn’t wear deodorant and he thinks he’s getting away with it. Last summer was very, very hot. I think you know where I’m going with this…

Derek and his friend Jason at work. Jason can smile because he’s wearing deodorant and doesn’t smell.

13. Derek Never Gives Me Flowers

I’ve said to him like a million times, “Derek, it’s Valentine’s Day. Derek, it’s my birthday. Derek, I lost my job. Derek, Shirley Temple passed away. Derek, my Internet Explorer isn’t working. Please please please give me flowers!” And what do I get??!? A big pile of nothing.

Derek and my mom, opening night of my play. Note that my mom got me flowers. Thanks for nothing, Derek.[4]

THE END

---

[1]You: Gee, isn’t this pretty mean-spirited? I mean, why would you write something like this? I just don’t get you sometimes.

Me: I could sit and bore you about all the things that make Derek great, but it would take forever and everyone would be rolling their eyes and throwing up into their Max Vibes. You’ll note my list of dislikes is tellingly short. That’s because Derek, like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect in every way.

[2]Guys, guys, obviously he can read. It’s called “hyperbole.” Did you just like not finish junior high or something?

[3] Scene: Derek and I looking at a dictionary as he pathetically tries to argue that his pronunciation is correct.

Derek: See? Lith. A joint, segment , or symmetrical part or division. That’s what I was saying.

Me: Bullshit.

[4]Derek: Actually, I have given you flowers on a number of occasions, probably like 3 or 4 times. And I’m pretty sure I did give you flowers when you were in the play.

Me: Not enough. You should be showering me with flowers on a biweekly basis.

Derek: Well, maybe if you started showering on a biweekly basis, you’d get more flowers!

Me: Psha.

About Jack

Here are some way cool facts about my Dad for your amusement and edification that I wrote back in February, 2009.

1. Dad calls my brother Adam, “Jack Junior.”

2. Dad thinks that animals understand sarcasm. One day, he was yelling at our dog Scottie, and then he pet him, saying, “He knows I’m just kidding.”

3. Recently, I was trying to sleep in my old upstairs room, but Dad was next door in his smoking room. In there, Dad likes to listen to music very loudly, conduct “business” on the phone very loudly, or talk to himself very loudly. On this particular morning, the music was off and the calls had stopped- and I heard him announce, “Ahhhh…my head hurts…my back aches…my feet stink.”

4. One wintry day, Dad got run over by a snow plow. It ran over his legs, and then backed up over his legs again. Dad got up and only had a few bruises. That’s when it began to dawn upon me that my father is either the luckiest or the unluckiest person in the world.

5. Dad got hit by a car in a parking lot and (of course) sustained no real injuries. He made sure to comfort the poor old lady who hit him.

6. Then there was the time that Dad got impaled on some uncapped rebar. Not a pretty sight. He nearly lost a testicle. I know, gross, but that’s what happened. (There were, of course, no permanent injuries- please see 4-5.) Now, Dad asked me not to tell anyone about the nature of his embarrassing injuries, and I kept my mouth shut. That is, until my dear old schoolhood friend Maryann called me out of the blue. She’d apparently called my parents to get my new number and had spoken to my Dad. Maryann asked Dad how he was, to which, of course, Dad responded, “I tore up my scrotum on some rebar.” At that point, I figured it was fair game.

7. Dad and I went to Norm’s Bar & Grill, and he was in top form. First, he amazed the waitress by showing her how there was a bee on his hat. How did it get there, he wondered? No one knew. Then he just had to run up to another waitress and tell her how she looked like a young Elizabeth Taylor (she didn’t). Then a man who was busing tables but was probably a manager or the owner walked by and asked how things were. Dad jumped at this opportunity. He gently grabbed the man’s arm, and leaned into him confidentially. “I’ve got one for you…So there’s this Asian guy…” I feared the worst. “And he goes to a bank and asks them to exchange his yen for dollars, just as he had done the week before. But this week, he gets fewer dollars for his yen. He asks the teller what this is all about (Dad does an amazing “generic Asian” accent at this point to the delight of all) and the teller shrugs and says, ‘Fluctuations.’ The Asian retorts angrily, ‘Fluck you Americans, too!'” And I had a sigh of relief. It could have been so much worse.

8. Dad doesn’t really know what the internet is. One time I told him that I emailed my ex in France. He was very concerned, and worried over whether J- would get the message, where the message was now, and how long it would take to get to him.

9. One time, something very unfair happened at school, I have no idea what. But Dad was on our side and he’d had enough. He declared vehemently, “I am going to go to that school and make a big stink!”

10. Dad ran into Maria, whom he hadn’t seen since she was little. He was amazed at how she’d grown up and gotten so lovely. He exclaimed, “Wow! You’re so beautiful- you could be one of MY daughters!”

11. Lots of things puzzle Dad, and he likes to ask me about them- a lot. Here are some ones that often plague him: “What’s the difference between anyone and anybody? What’s the difference between further and farther?”

12. Dad seems genuinely surprised when I finish a joke he’s only told me 30 times before.

13. Dad had this great idea for a sitcom, and he wanted me to help him write it. It was going to be called, “The Wallets” and it was about an ugly man who somehow had beautiful daughters. When he shows people pictures of his children from his wallet, people don’t believe that they are his. So he says, “Oh, these pictures- they came with the wallet!” Good one Dad. I gently explained to him that usually you need more than one joke for a whole sitcom…and that’s how I got fired from the show.

14. One time, Dad wrote a letter to the editor, which he had me proofread. But Dad doesn’t take criticism so well, so I got nixed from that project, too. Anyway, he wrote a letter that I’m pretty sure made it into the newspaper about how they really need to make the JFK road more pedestrian friendly. He noted the need for this especially in light of people’s “fat food” lifestyles.

15. At his most recent high school reunion, Dad won the limbo competition.

16. Dad tells some story about going to the doctor’s and having the doctor marvel at what great shape he’s in. Dad notes the secret to his success: “Clean living.”

17. I believe it was Cousin John who once said that if you look up “vulgar” in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Uncle Jack.

18. Dad thinks kids like him. And sometimes, they actually do.

19. Dad’s working-man hands are so fat he can’t type on a keyboard or use a cell phone.

20. I recently found out that in high school, my friend Jennie would call, and Dad would say, “Call back later,” and hang up. And never give me the message.

21. Dad made a home-made sign out of cardboard to support Ralph Nader’s run for president a few years back. He attached it to a back window on his car. It featured a picture of a cowboyed out John Wayne saying, “Live Greater, Vote Nader.” Dad didn’t actually vote.

22. Dad thinks that Martha Stewart is hot.

23. Here’s the line Dad used on Mom when he first met her: “Can I have a bite of your sandwich?”

24. Long ago, before any of us were born, Dad and one of his sisters were on their way to Canada to look for land- probably for hippie commune building. The man at the border asked Dad, “Have you ever been to jail?” Dad decided to be funny and said, “yes,” (even though at that point in his life, it wasn’t actually true). The man had them turn right back around to Maine. And that’s why I’m not Canadian.

25. When Dad goes in the kitchen to make himself something to eat, he emerges with a startling display of meat, ketchup, pickles, and, of course, horseradish.

26. One time I was in Dad’s car and I saw he had a tin of Altoids, so I thought I’d have myself a mint. Only when I opened it, I discovered that it was full of garlic.

27. If you’re a small child, you may be lucky enough to have my Dad give you a rocket ride. You lie down on the floor, and Dad stands over you. Then he grabs your legs, and flips you up in the air and catches you. It works for a while, but once you get to be a certain size, your head slams against the floor. ROCKET RIDES!!!

28. Dad’s closest run-in with death may have been a staph infection. He was cleaning out a neighbor’s disgusting basement, and he got this bizarre staph infection in his thumb. He went to the doctor’s, who gave him some antibiotics that were not enough. The next day, Dad’s thumb was about 10 sizes bigger. He went to the ER, and spent a week in the hospital. They told him that if he had waited one more day, he would have had a 50/50 chance of living, and that if he had pulled through, it would have taken months for his nerves to heal, if they ever did.

29. The staph aftermath (or staphtermath): As Dad was on the mend, things got weird. All of the extra skin on his thumb peeled off in one disgusting piece. Dad was proud. He put it up on his bulletin board. Heather came over, and I was very embarrassed, so I put on some oven mitts and threw the staph flesh away.

30. Dad usually has really good taste in music- aka he likes what I like. There are some noticeable exceptions. In high school, it was Dokken. My friend Paul and I used to say something about “I’m rockin to Dokken.” If you’re really lucky, you might hear Dad in his room singing along to his latest favorite song. Unbreak My Heart by Toni Braxton.

Dad’s the one in the hat.