Just Do It For Him

How come you people never tell me to just shut up?

 

Why do I need to go to my dad for that service?

 

Because when I called him yesterday, all crestfallen and lame about moving to the suburbs, you know what he said? He said I was a Drama Queen. A Drama Queen!

 

You know what else?

 

He said I capitulate to something only after a certain amount of bellyaching, obsessing and worrying. That, I need, need to make a big deal out of things before I accept them. As if I require anticipatory anxiety to function.

 

He put it like:

“Deborah! Shut up!”

 

And when I said that I didn’t think The Rock and I were “suburbs people,” he told me that we definitely weren’t “beach people,” so something something something, and “get over yourself,” something something something.

 

Next time? I’d rather you all rip me a new one. My dad’s got enough on me already.

 

18 thoughts on “Just Do It For Him

  1. I’d give my right arm for my dad to tell me to get over myself. It is SO not the same when it comes from my mother. I want to step on the laces of her little old lady sneakers and watch while she does a face-plant into the shrubs she is FOREVER pruning. My dad did it with love. She just does it to annoy me.

    Anyway, this isn’t about me.

    About your move to the burbs… I say live there and make sure you get Toots and Booger to the city, beach, museums, etc, every chance you get. I live in Pigsknuckle and though it eats away at my very soul, it’s good for Herself. But she LOVES our trips to DC and NY and London and she soaks up all the culture and diversity and color and imagination like a sponge. It’s the best I can do. And it’s OK :) XO

  2. Personally, I’d prefer to live all the way out in the country, on 100’s of acres, with no other houses for miles around. (You know, so long as I have internet and stuff like that.) Then, for a second home, I’d take a condo in the big city. And for my third home, maybe a little place on the beach somewhere.

    Notice, nowhere in any of that, did I say I wanted life in the suburbs. However, guess where Blognut Manor is located? You got it! Smack dab in the middle of mid-life suburbia.

    It’s not so bad, and for now, it’s good for my kids. It’s where they want to be. That makes me happy. :)

  3. sorry, but conversations such as the one between you and your father are reserved strictly for blood-related individuals. i am not qualified to tell you to STFU. my sister, mom, brother, etc.; however, i tell them to get over themselves on a daily basis.

    love you!

  4. Ouch! I can’t think of anyone besides my husband that gives it to me straight like that. Maybe that’s why I married him :) I need to be told that I am being a Drama Queen when I am or I may get outta control… And that is why he married me!

  5. It is our God-given right as women to be dramatic as far as I’m concerned. But good for your dad too for calling you out on it. It would be no fun being dramatic if no one noticed! Now gracefully bow and exit stage right. :-)

  6. First, good on your dad for saying what he was thinking.

    Second, I kinda think moving is a big ass deal. Mostly because it’s a huge stressor for a million different reasons (most of which must be packed carefully to avoid breakage).

    Third, I still hafta know, won’t you be my neighbor? :)

  7. “As if I require anticipatory anxiety to function.” You know, now that you mention it, I think I do that. It’s like there’s some mad, angst-ridden part of me that thinks if I worry about it enough in advance, it will somehow offer me some kind of magical protection.

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