Wendy's Father... My father is someone with whom I could write an entire book about... volumes and volumes... My dad is the text book definition of a fucking loser... My dad is a 38 year old drunken alcoholic with bi-polar disorder... My dad gets (or rather used to because he recently tried to kill himself and now he's with my grandmother) drunk every fucking night... Of course... my dad was one of those odd little people, who was so accustomed to getting drunk every night, that if alcohol was not available to him... he would get drunk off of kool-aid or orange juice... He would convince himself that there was alcohol in it, and he would stumble around like the drunken bum that he is.... Now... generally speaking... my dad goes through several phases of drunkeness... PHASE 1... Everything is funny to him and he likes to joke around... This phase tends to amuse me... He will tell jokes and mutter random phrases... He will become mesmerized by, for example, a Taco Bell commercial, and repeat what is said over and over until you want to slap the living shit out of him.... PHASE 2... This is when he begins his stories... My dad's stories would make you laugh your ass off... Unfortunately.... none of his 'stories' ever happened... Of course, he is convinced that they need... Let me relay some of these stories... HAWAII... "Before my voice changed, I sounded a lot like my older sister. So I called up my sister's boyfriend and I said, 'I want some marijuana, and I'm gonna send my little brother over to get it'. So I go over there, and he gives me two joints, and I ask him if I can borrow a match. So, then the guy says they're in my glove compartment, so I go out there and open it up. I see these two joints, so I switch one of the joints with mine, and then I go home, and smoke it. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever done. The grass was swaying. So then the dude calls back and tells me that I switched them. He asked me how it was and I tell him, it was the most amazing thing. The guy says, 'that was elephant red hair weed'"... CAR ACCIDENTS "I don't drive because I was in two HORRIBLE car accidents. One was when I was a kid. My friend and I were riding in a car. He took his hands off the wheel to wave his hands at some pretty girls. We ended up hitting three trees... THREE OAK TREES.. and my face hit the windshield. My friend's face was sliced all across his forehead. I was in the hospital for a long time. (The next time he tells this story, which would be the next day.... he would have hit FOUR trees, four PINE trees).. I wish I had weeks which I could use to just talk about all his little stories, but I could never begin to tell them all... Now... those stories probably aren't funny to you... but trust me... day after day of hearing these same senseless stories with the same excitement which he told them the previous day, is funny as Hell... Of course, he has thousands of these stories... none of which ever happened... and he changed them each time... He would babble about being stabbed two times one night... five minutes later... "I was stabbed three times." Oddly enough, he's never fucking been stabbed... One time... He told a story about how he was sliced with a samari sword... In actuallity, that "scar" came from one of his drunken states, in which he fell off the fucking porch... I have to tell my favorite drunken tale of all.... THE TALE OF MY LOST CHILDREN.... (Now, let me explain first, that this story was told to my friends Stacy & Eric, with the intention of never been relayed to me. Now, my dad is drunk, and we're in a fucking trailer. I'm in a room TEN feet away.... He is talking loudly about something I am never to be told... Now, I'm gonna shorten this story, because his version went on for nearly three hours... and after each sentence, he would say "Don't tell Wendy." What the Hell? I was in the next fucking room) "Now, Stacy, you can't tell Wendy this. Do you promise? Don't fuck with me now. I've never told ANYONE this, not even my parents. Nobody knows this. Don't tell Wendy. Now, Wendy and Richard have a brother. Don't tell Wendy. Please, don't tell Wendy. (He babbled on and on and on about how it happened). His name is Michael. He goes to Westside. Don't tell Wendy. She can never know. (Now, of course, I was listening the entire time) He looks just like Richard. One day, they're gonna meet and be like, 'you look just like me'. Don't tell Wendy. (He babbled on this for hours)" Okay, now this may be wrong, but I found this funny. My dad convinced himself that this child really existed, so what else could I do, but taunt him with this information. So the next day, I went into the room with my dad and Stacy. I began asking Stacy questions like, "Who's the greatest basketball player of all time?" and "Who's the first character to die in Bella Mafia?" and "Who's Peter's partner on Melrose Place?" Of course... every question I asked was answered with the word "Michael." Hehehe... My dad began to cry blah blah blah... Later, we learned that Michael wasn't his only bastard... There was a girl too... Information on her changed frequently... Her name went from Jamie to Misty... One minute she lived in California. Another minute, she lived in North Carolina... blah blah... PHASE 3 PHILOSOPHIES... When my dad got drunk, he always thought it made his mind clearer... He told us in depth stories about how you can look in the mirror and see the fifth dimension... ("In the fifth dimension, there is another person who looks just like us. If our counterpart dies, we die, and that explains freak accidents.") He told us about how Marilyn Manson is just an act... and how Manson just wants to be Alice Cooper ("Alice Cooper's a smart man. He plays golf.") One minute he babble about Christianity and the next he's agnostic and believes that aliens created us... "God is energy." PHASE 4 STUMBLING When my dad gets drunk, he forgets how to use his limbs... He trips over his own feet and stumbles into televisions... Once, he FELL out the front door and broke his leg... He's broken tables... all kinds of shit... He walks like Frankenstein's monster, taking huge steps and making no progress, because he falls back against the wall and must start over again... It's funny as Hell to watch... Crawling is the most amusing... PHASE 5 DROOLING This is funny as Hell... This is the final stage... because he can no longer move... This is when he sits aimlessly on the couch with his chin tucked down to his chest... drooling... The television is on... but by now it has faded to the blue screen... One eye is open... the other is closed... Drool is dripping and forming a small puddle on his shirt... He's fighting to regain consciousness, so he can get someone to make him another drink... but he can't... Finally, he topples over, and sleeps in the position at which he lands... My dad is a funny little character... unless you live with him... Even when he's sober, he babbles... He told us (Stacy, Eric, & I) a story once that was just absurd... "I stubbed my toe and got bone cancer. I might die. Don't tell anyone." Five minutes later he was on the phone telling his bitch. "I went to this haunted house when I was a little boy, and these ghosts used to chase me." My dad is crazy as the fuck... I could write a book about his rambles... Of course... he's incapacitated at the moment, and I doubt many more stories will come... but I'll