As we wait with bated breath for word that the most
overrated woman in the world has finally dropped the most overrated baby, I’ve made
the brave decision to carry on with life as usual. Yes, it’s exceedingly difficult
to not obsessively hit refresh on my Google newsfeed, waiting anxiously for
word that the world has finally been blessed with yet another parasitic
progeny, but being an adult means oftentimes having to make the tough choices.
It was because of this heroism that I decided to leave my
house on Sunday.
And, because he worried that, if left alone, I would
continue to hit refresh on my phone incessantly, resulting in painful carpal
tunnel, my dad decided to come with me. We were sitting side-by-side when it
occurred to me that, though he’s 35 years my senior, thanks to the Woody Allens
and Hugh Hefners of the world, people might come to the oh-so-incorrect
conclusion that my dad and I were together.
As in a couple. Yuck and yuck.
We look somewhat similar, so I would hope that people would
realize we’re related; however, it’s been said that people tend to be attracted
to, and enter into relationships with, people who look similar to them. I can
barely tolerate seeing my face on one person; I can’t imagine having to see it
on two people (of course, I’m not a giant narcissist) but apparently this is a
real phenomenon. Just ask Chris and Gwyneth.
The truth is, I’m not really into older dudes. I just can’t
imagine ever dating/marrying a man old enough to be my father – especially when
he is my father. Unfortunately, Woody
Allen set a terrible precedent on this one as well.
And now, forevermore, a daughter’s relationship with her
father is slightly tainted. At least in the eye of a confused public.
Thanks for nothing, Woody Allen.
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