The Steampunk World
My dad cracks me up. He's so fucking nonchalant about everything. He's one of the most modest people I know. He's the head PR guy at a state university, so he has these odd brushes with fame (usually speaking on behalf of the school), and he never tells me, until one day I'm reading about him in the Washington Post. I talk to him all the time! He'll only mention something if I happen to direct the conversation to the specific topic that involves it.
Just yesterday I sent him this article that I found on Fark about a group of Indians who've named their intramural team the Fighting Whities. Pretty funny shit. My dad had to deal with the uni's mascot change a couple years back (thus the Post) and I knew he would get a chuckle out of it. Then he says, "Oh, yeah, did I tell you I was in Sports Illustrated?" Heh. My dad. He says it like it was his turn to be eraser-clapper in school, like it was bound to happen sooner or later. The quote was pretty funny, I'll get a copy of the magazine tomorrow and post it verbatim.
Then last week I'm talking to him on the phone and he casually mentions, "Oh, yeah, by the way, had a beer with Dave Barry the other night." Dave Barry is one of my dad's heroes. If I had a beer with one of my heroes, EVERYBODY would hear about it. Incessantly.
I guess my dad's way is the best way. There was this guy in school who was a concierge, and the Dave Matthews Band stayed at the hotel, and he got them whisky or something so they gave him a backstage pass. Then, before the show, he got to smoke dope with them. (I know what you're thinking- Dave Matthews?!? A stoner!?! Who knew?) Well, from that point on, everytime you saw the guy, he'd say, "Hey, did I tell you about the time I smoked dope with the Dave Matthews Band?!?!" and he'd proceed to tell the story (and it wasn't much of a story- "I went backstage, and they had a hookah, and we smoked dope out of it") while everyone rolled their eyes. It got to the point where he became The Guy Who Smoked Dope With Dave Matthews. To this day, I don't remember his real name.
Just yesterday I sent him this article that I found on Fark about a group of Indians who've named their intramural team the Fighting Whities. Pretty funny shit. My dad had to deal with the uni's mascot change a couple years back (thus the Post) and I knew he would get a chuckle out of it. Then he says, "Oh, yeah, did I tell you I was in Sports Illustrated?" Heh. My dad. He says it like it was his turn to be eraser-clapper in school, like it was bound to happen sooner or later. The quote was pretty funny, I'll get a copy of the magazine tomorrow and post it verbatim.
Then last week I'm talking to him on the phone and he casually mentions, "Oh, yeah, by the way, had a beer with Dave Barry the other night." Dave Barry is one of my dad's heroes. If I had a beer with one of my heroes, EVERYBODY would hear about it. Incessantly.
I guess my dad's way is the best way. There was this guy in school who was a concierge, and the Dave Matthews Band stayed at the hotel, and he got them whisky or something so they gave him a backstage pass. Then, before the show, he got to smoke dope with them. (I know what you're thinking- Dave Matthews?!? A stoner!?! Who knew?) Well, from that point on, everytime you saw the guy, he'd say, "Hey, did I tell you about the time I smoked dope with the Dave Matthews Band?!?!" and he'd proceed to tell the story (and it wasn't much of a story- "I went backstage, and they had a hookah, and we smoked dope out of it") while everyone rolled their eyes. It got to the point where he became The Guy Who Smoked Dope With Dave Matthews. To this day, I don't remember his real name.
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