Due to several unforeseen circumstances, (problems at work, problems with boys, problems with life), I’ve been staying at my parents’ place. But enough about me – there are more pressing things to talk about.
My Dad’s latest obsession
My father is an insomniac. He spends an inordinate amount of time on the internet to pass the waking hours. I’ve always assumed he was watching porn. But, surprise of all surprises, he’s discover Nick Minaj’s big butt. Twerking on Instagram. He’s not one for celebrity news or gossip, but he’s like my dog once he gets fixated on a certain toy, or say, cat on the street. Obsessed.
This started a couple of days ago at a dinner party at my parents’ house. Out of nowhere, my father interrupts the guest who is talking about his wife’s possible cancer. “Excuse me, excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen Nicki Minaj’s ass? On the internet? Do you know what I’m talking about?” And before you know it, the whole table of retired community homeowners are talking about her implants. “Myra, what is twerking? Explain it to us.”
“Oh, Dad, I’m not sure I’m the one to answer that.”
“But you like dancing.”
“Yeah, but it’s not dancing, really. It’s this stupid, stripper-like thing everyone’s become obsessed with…”
“Linda, I think you should get implants in the tuchas.”
“Oh, please. My tuchas is big enough.”
She’s right. It is big enough. I blame her for my own big ass. If only the genes were different. If only I had different parents. But, I digress.
My father’s obsession has blossomed. Maybe he felt he needed to take up a hobby. Like knitting, or racquetball, or Rummy Q. He’s decided to photograph big asses – and post them to his new Instagram account. Yeah. He’s gone there.
We have to stop in the middle of the supermarket if he sees someone with a big, photo-worthy ass. And he stalks them to get close enough without them seeing – like a wide-eyed tribesman in sub-saharan Africa.
When I try to protest, my mother cuts in with her age-old, “Please, your father’s not going to change.” I always hated when she said that and can’t believe she still uses it. I try to explain to her that I’m not trying to change him, but that this is f-d up. What if someone went around photographing big-bellied, senior citizen schlubs who used expired coupons? “Well, then he would have to deal with it.”
We’re at Burger King later (using coupons of course), when he is trying to photograph a big mama in front of us on line. Big mama’s man turns his head around slowly to look at my father’s camera. I turn quickly on my heels and walk out to the car to wait there. I don’t care if I don’t eat lunch. I stand there, wondering if my parents will make it out alive.
Finally, my father comes out beaming – a wide smile that reminds me of Mister Ed. “Did you see that shot, Linda? Did you see it, yes or no? What’s wrong, Myra? You’re not proud of your Daddy?”
I don’t have to tell you this is embarrassing. I mean, look at the title of this blog. But, what’s interesting is his collection of photos as they juxtapose one another is almost…artistic. I wonder why I didn’t think of this project.
Check out the latest: I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE ASSHOLES, With Dr. Rita Gatswani!!
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