Tag Archives: dad

Waiter, There’s an Dipshit in my Soup.

3 Nov

Last week my dad called me up and told me he was going to be coming down to Ashland to see me this weekend. This caught me a bit off guard, since my dad had just come down at the end of September and we had seen five shows together. Nevertheless, I found that I was, surprisingly, excited that he was coming down to visit so soon.

So he came down this Thursday and stayed for two nights. We went and saw Romeo and Juliet Thursday evening, and then we saw Animal Crackers again last night. I had seen Romeo and Juliet several weeks ago, and I enjoyed it a lot the first time… but then again, maybe that’s because I went with a really cute Russian boy. This time around I found I was bored through most of it. Maybe it was the performance, maybe it was because I’ve seen Romeo and Juliet one too many times. Animal Crackers, on the other hand, was hilarious as always. It was my dad’s second time seeing it and my third. This time was a special treat because Jonathan Haugen, who normally plays Hives and Chandler, as out and we had an understudy (Robert Vincent Frank) go on. Since the show’s so fast paced and he’s probably never had to go on before, Robert was on book. Of course, since the show is so slapstick and improvised, the main trio of the show gave him a hard time during the entire show’s run. Luckily he was a good sport about it. I’m sure he knew going on that they’d tease him a bit. The best part was when his character was passed out on the floor they semi-undressed him. Good moments in theatre 101.

Yesterday afternoon my dad and I went to Jacksonville. I’d never been to the small town except for the two times I went there for Britt Festival, but even then I only ever went straight to their outdoor theatre. I found the town to be quite charming. My dad explained how it was a historic piece of Oregon, and we wandered around through most of the shops. After talking to a nice woman at an antique store, I made a mental note to come back to Jacksonville during the Christmas season. It sounds like they decorate the entire town and go all out for the holiday season, which sounds fabulous. They’ve also got a killer kitchen appliance store, so I’ll have to go back there to find my dad a gift for Christmas.

Alas, our trip to Jacksonville was far from perfect. We went to the Jacksonville Inn Restaurant, which my dad was raving about. He told me how it’s considered one of the top one hundred restaurants in the country, and how he’d been there before. Well, let’s just say I walked into that restaurant excited and left feeling… agitated. For starters, our waiter was sort of horrible. He had to keep coming back to ask us questions about our orders, we waited for our food for over forty-five minutes, he completely forgot our appetizer all together, and he brought me the wrong kind of wine (luckily my dad spoke up and I was given the correct kind). Normally I could excuse things like this, except we were one of three tables in the restaurant and the guy had been working there for months. So there’s that.

But that’s not while I was feeling agitated by the time we left. Despite all the problems with our lunch, I was ready to leave the meal feeling all right about the establishment. The burger I ordered had been great. However, as my dad and I were getting ready to leave he asked me, “What does your button say?” I glanced down at it and grinned. “Time Lords for Obama,” I replied. I was about to tell him all about the site NerdsForObama.org when we were interrupted. The maître d’ of the restaurant, who had been so nice to us and had been the reason we finally got our food, came over and asked me if I was voting for Obama. I hesitated before telling him “yes.” I sensed a disturbance in the force. The guy then went on to give me a five or six minute long rant about why Obama is a terrible president. At first I was quiet, thinking he’d eventually talk himself out. Then I tried to give him visual cues with my body language and expressions that the whole conversation (well, not conversation, more like him lecturing at me) was making me uncomfortable. Finally I couldn’t sit there any longer in silence when he tried to argue how PBS should have its funds cut.

The whole thing was infuriating. I’d make a statement and he’d immediately cut me off before I could make my point. He’d also ask me if I knew certain states and dollar figures about things Obama has “screwed up”, which was just plain dumb because of course I don’t know any of this off the top of my head. He then gave me a speech about how he shouldn’t have to pay for other woman’s birth control and blah blah blah, it just went on until my dad finally stood up so we could get out of there.

Uggggh.

That’s just not acceptable. If you’re working at a restaurant, no matter how comfortable you feel with your customers, you should never put them in a situation like that. As we were leaving the guy was telling me how he’d hope that I’d come by again sometime soon, and all I could think was, “No fucking way am I ever coming back.” I then went home and took an angry nap.

Anyway, besides that glitch, my weekend with my dad was lovely. It’s odd that I’m now at a place in life that whenever he leaves I’m genuinely sad. We don’t always get along, but I do love the guy. Glad I’ll be seeing him again in less than three weeks for Thanksgiving.

Couldn’t We Ride?

31 Jul

Today was a great reminder that whenever I’m feeling down a splendid day waiting is waiting for me right around the corner.

Yesterday I wrote up a (whiny) entry about how lonely I am and how depressed I am and how nobody likes me and blah blah blah, whiny to the extreme. An hour after I wrote the entry I called up my father because, I don’t know, for some reason I knew he would be the only person who could cheer me up. And he was. We talked about my cat, summer, family, work, school, and such. Eventually the topic of spring break came up, and he divulged how he sometimes looks at plane ticket prices and considers running away to Italy on a whim. This shocked me because I too do this frequently. It was an eye opening moment for me as I realized that maybe my dad and I aren’t so different after all. We then discussed how much we love Tuscany and how Rome sucks and how there’s just something so nice about staying in a villa as opposed to a hotel. He then gave me his usual lecture about how, once out of college, I should take the first two years off to travel and see the world and live life, which is exactly what he did when he was my age. It’s silly to think how a couple years back this notion always made me roll my eyes as I’d say, “Whatever dad.” Now I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more than traveling this planet.

So yesterday ended on a great note, which was nice, but today?

Today was lovely.

I woke up bright and early at eight o’clock. I leaped out of bed, poured myself a cup a cup of coffee, and enjoyed last night’s Daily Show and Colbert Report. In the back of my mind, as my programs played, festered the knowledge of what I’d soon be doing. My first ever interview. No, I would not be taking this interview, I’d be conducting it. As ten o’clock drew nigh I made myself look presentable and reviewed my list of questions I had written up. ‘Deep breathes’, I kept telling myself, ‘this is going to be fun.’

And it was fun. The interview, which was done over Skype with Dave LaMattina and Chad Walker, who are working on the documentary I Am Big Bird, was an absolutely wonderful experience. It sadly had to be cut short due to the fact the guys had to run off to another meeting, but I still got twenty minutes of solid material. Of course, seeing as it was my first ever interview, I did get tongue tied at times and I think I said the words “great” “yeah” and “super” close to a billion times. But still, for my first interview? Not bad.

After this I had a calm, relaxing couple hours of television watching and sorting through stacks of papers. Nothing extravagantly entertaining, but it was nice to unwind after the interview.

At 1:30pm I took off on my bike and rode to my friend Gina’s apartment. Gina was my co-director for the Vagina Monologues last January, and we had been meaning to hang out for a while. Once both of us were ready, we made the great trek to Emigrant Lake… on our bikes.

I have never attempted this feat before. I’ve only traveled to Emigrant via car, and I was surprised the bike ride was pretty smooth sailing. It wasn’t until the lake was in sight I became out of breath and had to ask Gina to stop for a moment, as I had begun to gain tunnel vision. On the way back I felt fine the entire time, which leads me to believe that the reason I was so exhausted on the ride there was due to the fact Gina and I attempted conversation almost the entire way. Not a great idea. Talking takes up way too much energy when you’re on a bike.

Speaking of biking, I did the math and between biking to Gina’s, biking to the lake, and biking home, I biked 12.5 miles today. I have a feeling my body’s gonna hate me tomorrow.

We finally reached the lake, locked up our bike, and adventured further down to find a spot away from all the people. We finally found a nice, albeit rocky, area where we set up camp. We then proceeded to have a nice, lengthy conversation. It’s been over a month since we last saw each other, so it was lovely to catch up. We talked about grad schools, movies, boyfriends, nonexistent boyfriends, family, friends, travel, doctor appointments, the VMs, and many other things. I’m pretty sure we spent more time talking than actually in the lake, which we did spend a fair amount of time in as well. All in all, it was just an amazing time.

The beautiful view we had from where we sat.

On the way back Gina braked her bike and I nearly ran right into her. I immediately assumed something was wrong, but it turned out her eye had been caught by a blackberry bush. We then spent a good five or so minutes picking blackberries and letting the flavors explode on our tongues. It’s hard to explain, but more than our conversation, more than my first ever interview, more than the cheesecake I made later today, this was my favorite moment of the entire day. It was such a simple moment of joy.

As we biked back into town, we parted ways. I rode over to Shopping Kart and bought a slew of groceries to last me through the next week and a half.

When I got home I started whipping up the one dessert I actually know how to make well: cheesecake. My cheesecake’s are delicious. I even shook up the recipe a little bit (though sadly had to forfeit the strawberries I normally decorate my cheesecakes with as I’m sort of broke… as usual). My cheesecake is still cooling in the refrigerator (where it will stay for another hour or so). I just made chicken enchiladas, which are cooling on the stove top. These sadly look nothing like the web-site’s examples, but who knows. Maybe they’ll still be tasty…ish?

Now I’m gonna go cut me an enchilada and go watch Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid, and eventually will help myself to a slice of cheesecake. Then I’m gonna delve into that interview and start editing it and such.

Sorry that this was pretty much just a super long rant about today, but I couldn’t resist. Who could possibly resist sharing all about a day like today?

College Financial Woes.

3 Jun

Sometimes you just have to suck it up and ask your father for help with rent. It always sucks, especially because I’ve become so used to not having to ask for money (what with my job and financial aid), but sometimes there’s just really no way around it. I have to pay two rents this month, since I’m moving into a new place and all, and I can barely afford one rent as it is. And I need help with utilities… Ugh. I am not looking forward to this phone call.

Also, when does it stop being appropriate to ask your parents for help financially? I figure I’ve got two more years of freebee asks, since I’m sure my dad will help me get on my feet once I graduate, but after that… who knows. I’m sure if I was ever in a tough situation, my dad wouldn’t even hesitate to help me out, but I’m also sure there’s going to come a point sometime in the near future where my dad says “enough” to asking for help outs once every other month.

Ugh. Future. Stop being terrifying.

Also, rent, stop being so damn expensive.