Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Worst Father's Day Eveh

Well, naming you "Beaver" just seemed funny at the time

Got lost - that's not supposed to happen. Especially not on Father's day. Especially not when I had to admit it and most especially not since I looked it up, wrote it down and somehow missed the turn anyway. My navigator was busy blabbing away on the phone and I didn't give her enough "time" to find Rt. 32. Stupid iphone. And I didn't even get to yell at her since I "knew" where I was going. Stupid Expedia. But I didn't say anything, although I wanted to and she knew I wanted to. Bad things happen when I do. To me.  One of our first major arguments was over the correct method of barbecuing, which ended with several pounds of raw chicken being flung into the dirt during our tug of war over the platter. (She laughed - I knew at that moment that this was the woman for me). So I'm pissed and fucking stewing over having to backtrack. Then this:
Why the silent treatment - I didn't yell at you.
Well, I tried to make conversation - you didn't seem  interested.
What I thought - Oh Jesus, It's Father's Day - do I have to talk, too?
What I said - Shit, I'm sorry.
Of course, we have to take 3/5's of the grandkids with us which means 87 stops everytime one of the little whiners needs fed, watered or bathroomed. If it was just me I'd never stop - I once drove from Pittsburgh to Fort Collins in 28 hours straight thru - gas and coffee only. That's how a real man rolls.

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