Daddyism #4

Rabbit Rabbit.

"It just seems silly to see two men on a date."

In light of my resolution to be nicer to Daddy, I'm posting one of my favorite Daddyisms.


Daddy and I are at Harry's Burritos. The gay couple next to us leaves.

Daddy: You know, it just seems so silly to see two men on a date.

Me: Really? Why?

Daddy: I just think that most men are just interested in dating with the hope that it will lead to sex. So it just seems like there's no point in going through the pretense when you're interested in men.

I love it because it shows his tolerance (despite maybe some ignorance). Also, it's rare that Daddy says the s-e-x word in front of me.

I'm Resolving to Magically Become Better

Sorry to make this all about me for a second, but if I publish my New Year's resolutions for the world* to see, maybe I'll feel more obligated to follow them.

*almost literally according to Google Analytics but, you know, 

mostly the US and with some noticeable exceptions 

(what's your problem, Greenland?)

I've broken my resolutions into two parts, since I have so freaking many. My personal resolutions are pretty short and sweet, I think.

1. Be less selfish
I like to think of my self as an unselfish person. I have a sponsor child, I contribute monthly to Greenpeace and Amnesty International, as well as a couple activist organizations. But, if I'm being honest, all that proves is that I work in New York City and have poor resistance to people with clipboards.

It pains me to admit this but, after Hurricane Sandy, when many of my friends were volunteering their time in Staten Island, The Rockaways, and New Jersey, I was just enjoying some peace and quiet. I can't explain why I didn't feel motivated to help. Actually, it might be related to some bad volunteer experiences I had in the past, or it could be that I'm too happy.

Anyway, I think for my personal growth I need to volunteer or maybe just do nice things for my grandparents. Goals should be quantifiable and obtainable, so let's say... volunteer / do something nice (that requires effort) for someone else (Tom doesn't count) 10 times this year.

2. Be nicer to Daddy
Poor old man. You, lovers and friends, know more than anyone how much I complain about him. Not that he doesn't deserve it sometimes.

I'm nice to him most of the time but sometimes I feel the need to snub him when he's babying me too much. Why do I do that? I can't really quantify this one but let's make it my goal to be rude to him as close to zero times as I can.

3. Stick to monthly budget
Ugh, money. I've been kind of bad since moving home, because I think "I'm sacrificing my freedom, so I should be allowed to spend whatever, right?" Not like I'm obsessed with shopping, but I take liberties with buying egg sandwiches, tea, lunch... which adds up in New York, or probably anywhere.

I just need to remind myself that the more money I spend, the longer I have to live at home.


Feedback? What are your resolutions?

Merry Christmas! I'm Getting Fat

Ok, so I'm not getting fat by American standards. I'm probably not even near average for good ol' USA. But I'm slowly and steadily gaining weight, even if I'm the only one that notices.

September

December

Of course, eventually someone is bound to notice. And that someone is Daddy.

Yesterday morning, during Christmas breakfast...

Daddy: Wow, you're really eating a lot, Jilly. You finished your omelette and now you're eating two pieces of French toast? Daddy's never seen you eat like this.

I pause, thinking maybe I shouldn't eat all this.

Jilly: It's not... that much.

Mommy: You'd be surprised. She can eat more than you'd think and stay that small.

Daddy: What do you think? Now that you're married, you can eat as much as you want?

This was met by an "Ohhhhhhh" from the rest of the family, the type usually reserved for "yo mama" jokes on the playground. Daddy quickly laughed it off, assured me he was kidding, and kissed me one too many times on the cheek.

Daddy, we're not friends. When I can curse in front of you, you can make jokes.

Excuses For Not Cleaning

It just occurred to me that anyone reading this blog, who doesn't know me personally, might be under the misconception that I am a clean person, just because I criticize Daddy's cleanliness. Well, I'm not. I try, but I encounter problems, such as:

• It doesn't come naturally to me.
• I didn't learn proper habits until college, and then I only did it begrudgingly under the guidance of the cleaning chart my roommate Peggy made out of a paper plate.
• I'm busy.
• When I'm not busy, I'm lazy.
• I spend a lot of time writing bullet point lists.
• I'm a type B person so I don't really beat myself up for enjoying my weekends.
• I don't hate myself. In fact, I like myself so much that I find my own faults endearing, as if I'm Liz Lemon or Old Christine.

my anti-heroes

Of course, on TV, even slobs have clean houses. I mean, we slovenly viewers don't want to be forced to look at a house that looks just like ours....

Liz Lemon's Ikea furniture

Feel free to lend me your best cleaning excuses.

The Medicine Cabinet

I was going to post my personal restaurant rules today but I could only think of two. I would have been at a loss, but luckily Daddy didn't let me down on the absurdity front...

This morning, I had the urge to clean out the medicine cabinet. I was scared that I would find cobwebs and spiders but it wasn't that bad... just some dust and about 13 years' worth of old medicine. Some of the stuff I threw out includes:

• 2 out of the 3 mostly empty bottles of baby powder;
• Some prescriptions filled at Genovese (which hasn't existed since around 2002);
• An unopened box containing Bacitracin that expired in 2007;
• Iron supplements prescribed to me in 1997 by a doctor that is now dead; and
• Five bags of the rubber bands I had to wear in my braces.

five bags

By the time I was done, there was one bottle of baby powder and a bottle of mineral oil left in the cabinet. I don't know what mineral oil is but it seemed harmless.

I went out to get some cleaning supplies and when I came back... well, I guess if you read The Shower Head Incident, you know what's coming...

Daddy: Why did you throw out everything in Daddy's medicine cabinet without asking?
Me: Are you serious? It was all expired.
Daddy: Well why did you throw out the band-aids?
Me: Did you look at them?
Daddy: Well, if you need a band-aid, it's still better than not having any.
Me: Um... ok. When's the last time you even used anything in there?
Daddy: Daddy uses the baby powder a lot in the summer, actually.
Me: Ok, I kept the biggest, fullest bottle of baby powder.

I went into the bathroom and found that he had recovered from the garbage:

• The unopened, expired Bacitracin;
• The two nearly empty bottles of baby powder;
• The unused gauze wrap (What's wrong with that, you ask? Nothing, except for the dead stinkbug inside the box); and
• The band-aids.

I absolutely want these water-stained Eckerd band-aids on my cut

I re-disposed of the stinkbug gauze, but if he needs three bottles of baby powder to feel in control of his life, so be it. This is the point we're at: I now need permission to throw out garbage.

Daddyism #3

Rabbit Rabbit.

"People are crazy with running red lights."

Daddy and I are picking up Tex Mex.

Daddy: You know, these people are crazy with running red lights.

Me: Uh huh.

Daddy: It's like, I think I'm cutting it close at a light, and then I look in my mirror and see two people go through after me.

Me: I know.


(Daddy has been known to stop at yellow lights.)

Daddy's Restaurant Rules

Happy post-Thanksgiving! Enough with the home cooked food; time to get back to eating out. As I draft this, I'm on my way to meet Daddy for dinner. Started me thinking about all his restaurant rules.

Each of these could be an individual Daddyism, as these are all verbatim phrases that have been repeated to Amy and me for countless years.

Daddy's Restaurant Rules

1. (Re: valet) They want me to pay them to park my car five feet away. You know there's a free lot right across the street, right?

2. (Optional) It's too loud in here. Let's go somewhere else.

3. Close the menu so the waitress knows we're ready. Close it! She's looking over here.

4. The waitress is coming. Get ready! Don't let her walk away; it'll be 20 minutes before we see her again.

Note: I was 21 when I found out you could actually say, "We need a few more minutes." and not be sentenced to starvation.

5. Don't fill up on bread (or chips), girls. 
-or- Don't forget, you have a whole meal coming. 
-or- Save room for dinner.

6. You get one soda, so save it until your meal comes.

6a. (Upon waiter refilling drink) Wait! Are those free refills?

7. (Added circa 2009) Do you have cash? (I usually say no.) What a surprise. I'll give you cash and you can put it on your credit card. Sigh, adulthood.

I will say, in Daddy's defense, that he had 8 brothers and sisters so they never got to go to restaurants as kids. Therefore he couldn't have known his rules would eventually drive me insane.

I'm not without my own quirks. Maybe tomorrow I'll give you Ms. PC's restaurant rules.

Back Home Sitcom, Ep. 1

INT. NEWLYWEDS' BEDROOM - MIDDAY (SUNDAY)

Jill and Tom prepare to leave for the day. Jill puts her laptop in her purse as Tom slips on his jacket. There is a knock at the door. Jill opens it to reveal Daddy.

DADDY

Have you two been eating

in here?

JILL

(Guiltily) Um, yes.

DADDY

Daddy would really prefer

if you didn't eat in here.

This isn't college.

Jill glances at the mini fridge in the corner.

JILL

It feels like college.

DADDY

Yeah, I see that... Just 
eat in the kitchen please.

JILL

(Hangs her head) Ok...

Daddy closes the door as he leaves. Jill looks up at her husband.

TOM
(Whispers) I'm still

gonna eat in here.

A Very Special Blog Post

I hate to get serious, ever, but it's hard for me to laugh about the ridiculousness of living with my dad when I'm actually pissed off...

Daddy is nosy. My mom calls him a yenta. I mostly accept him but it's tough sometimes.

credit

He's been known to ask me inappropriate questions about money. I have no idea how much he makes but he thinks it's fine to ask me how much I make. Whatever.

He has repeatedly asked me, although I have told him many, many times, how much my MBA cost, how much I paid up front, and how much I owe. You know what? He paid for 20% of my graduate degree, which was generous and I did not expect, so if he really needs to know how much I owe in student loans, no big deal.

He also asks me how much I owe in credit card debt, which is patently none of his business. But, it's not that big of a deal to me. I've told my friends and it's not like I have a shopping addiction or something. I just have debt from throwing what constitutes a very modest New York wedding. So fine.

He started getting on my nerves a while ago when he told me, very cautiously at first, that, in his opinion, with a CPA and MBA, I should be making more money.

This pisses me off not because it's nosy, but because it proves that he doesn't know me at all.

Yes, if I sold my soul and went back to public accounting, I could be making a few tens of thousands more than I'm making now. But let's look at the costs:

• Dreams of becoming a writer. (No time to write when you're working every night and weekends.)
• Free time to spend with family, friends and husband.
• Mental and physical health.

Maybe he doesn't care about my writing dreams or free time but the mental health part is non-negotiable. I literally had a nervous breakdown and spiraled into depression at my old job. Guess what? If you can't get out of bed in the morning, your income prospects are severely limited.

Sorry, this is getting really personal. Anyway...

And he seems to think Tom's finances are his business too. So the other day, he's talking to me about how I should really be saving money for a house (because that's all a married woman can dream of, right? No chance I might want to have flexibility to travel?) and I'm nodding and he says:

"And Tom is talking about going to the Olympics in Russia, and I'm like 'Dude, you have $XXX in debt.'"

[Silence.]

Seriously, what the fuck? Does he really think I'm going to take his side over my husband's? And yes, our student loan debt is astronomical. Yes, it's terrible and it's going to take forever to pay off, but what are you saying? We're not allowed to travel for the next 30 years? And I don't even want to go to Russia but he's turning me into a rebellious teenager and now I want to go out of spite!

So I'm stewing, and he continues on about how we'd be surprised how much money we can save if we really try [Trust me, living with Daddy IS trying!] and then he says "You know, it seems to me that you should both be making more money." Enough!!!!

So I say "Daddy, you know, you're getting a little nosy."

And he says "Well, you're living rent-free in my house."

Oh! Didn't know his offer to live with him came with strings attached! 

This is bullshit. Yes, I'm lucky to have him. But I also have a mom and a mother-in-law and a husband's aunt with an empty apartment in Brooklyn and friends and enough money that I could still live on my own (if I never want to pay off my credit card debt) so, you know? Shit, fuck it.

I am tempted to just move out now but Tom is really sick of moving.

I guess I have to have the talk... you know the one, accompanied by sappy music at the end of any very special episode.

Really, my dad just wants to help me make my life perfect. Too bad I've got my own ideas.

Sorry for getting so real with you guys.  To counterbalance this very special post, tomorrow I will post a list of Ms. PC's personal favorite very special episodes.

The Shower Head Incident

Tom and I moved into Daddy's a few weeks ago and immediately noticed that the shower head was super low-flow, which, as we know from Seinfeld, is not good.

my first homemade gif

We bought a new one about two or three weeks ago but didn't install it right away because we couldn't find a wrench. So we got around to it on Friday.

Oh, and when I was at Home Depot, I called and asked Daddy if he wanted me to buy a new faucet for the bathroom (also an issue). He kind of panicked and said that no, we would go after work one night and pick one out together. 

I just want to say right now that I don't give a shit about picking out the new faucet. I just want one with working knobs. Meanwhile, he hasn't done anything about that yet.

Anyway, we changed the shower head without asking. [Dun dun dun!]

#SixSeasonsAndAMovie

Sunday, we got a talking-to:
"Daddy doesn't like unilateral decision making."

Too bad Ms. PC doesn't like low-flow shower heads.

I guess I feel bad because I don't want him to feel like we're taking over his house. But I just don't think he'll do anything if I don't do it myself.

Exhibit A:

my girly stuff juxtaposed with the ultimate bachelor faucet

But anyway, Sunday night I decided to take a nice, long shower in celebration of our new-found water pressure. Unfortunately, the water went completely cold after about 12 minutes.

I told Daddy and he said "That's why Daddy had a regulator in the old one."  Whoops.

Daddyism #2

Rabbit Rabbit.

"You know, you really should be eating more fruit."

My husband, the chiropractor, enters the kitchen.

Daddy: There's a pear in the fridge if you wanna take it for lunch.

Tom: No thanks, I'm ok.

Daddy: You know, you really should be eating more fruits and vegetables. I mean, I'm not trying to tell you what to do but you really should be eating more fruit.

Ladybugs and Omens

When my parents first moved into their house in Huntington, Mommy found ladybugs everywhere, and she felt like it was her mother's spirit looking after her.

an especially ugly ladybug gif

Ladybugs have always been a special symbol of good luck in my family. There was a ladybug on my leg the day my team won the xAct (xTREME Accounting) local case competition at Binghamton (full on nerd in the house - TF3 forever!) And other than that... I can't remember a specific time when ladybugs have really brought luck but I've always liked them and I got a ladybug tattoo on my hip on my 21st birthday and no you can't see it.

On Sunday, Tom and I returned to this house, which is now Daddy's house. And we were greeted by a different insect...

Bees.

Now, in Tom's family, bees are considered bad luck. Well, it's not so much a family superstition as Tom just doesn't like them because he was stung multiple times as a kid and, really, who needs a bunch of bees around?

When Tom and Daddy went to move our mattress, there was one on the mattress cover, which seemed to be injured. Daddy vacuumed him up. Later, I found one on the bathroom window, which Daddy shooed out. Then there was a dead one on one of Daddy's several keyboards.

Finally, we found the source: the nest in our bedroom window. 

Bees.

Daddy said he'll knock it down but he didn't say when. Then he said "This house just seems to attract bees." Bees.

As we were leaving, a bee landed on our windshield. We then went to the park to enjoy the weather for a few minutes...

And as soon as we sat down, three bees landed on our bench.

Bees.

If my mom took the ladybugs as a sign that she was supposed to be here, what are the bees trying to tell me?

Bee Afraid!

Tonight will be our first night staying at Daddy's.

Mommy's House

Who can resist a look in someone else's house? I used to live at street level on Mott Street, so trust me: no one. It was like living in a freaking store window...

My mom's house is precious, as we say in my family. In fact, we say precious (adj.), preciousness (noun), or preciousing (verb).  As in: "Mommy is preciousing up her dining room." or, the more general: "How precious." (to be said in a mocking tone).

This is a good example of preciousness...

  

precious dolls and dishes above the precioused out window

Here's the dining room...

And one of several wine racks....

Kitchen...

ok, I bought the gourds so maybe I have a little precious in me

Living room...

my mom's super giant clock

still using the summer pillows - the winter pillows are much scratchier :(

The small but precious backyard...

the grill cover is Cutie's

Plus her house comes with precious cats like this...

Oreo

Or this....

Twinkie

Or these....

ok, so it's the same two cats

Mommy's house is my favorite place to be. It's always clean and organized, and filled with good food and family and girly movies.

But now... we're off to Daddy's, which as we know from the preview is not so precious. To be honest, I don't even fully know what I'm getting into. I'll keep you updated.

Preview: Daddy's House

Remember 3 weeks ago when we were going to stay at my mom's for a week and then move into my dad's?

Here's an update: we're still at my mom's. The end.

Not really the end. But that would legit be enough of an explanation for anyone that knows my dad. Assuming you don't, however, here's the rest...

Daddy is still working on his cleaning and plumbing problems. The latest is that we should be moving in this week. (We'll see.)

As a preview of what's to come, here's what it looked like when we first moved our furniture into Daddy's:

that's the front door. and all our stuff.

He wasn't quite ready for us, so he just had the movers leave all our stuff in the foyer. 

peeking inside

It's cool because it'll be totally easy for us to move our solid wood furniture upstairs later. (I emphasize "solid wood" because I'm proud we've upgraded most of our Ikea furniture. I'm like totally grown up.)

In case you had been wondering why I started this blog... do you get it now? No, really. Ms. PC values feedback.

Daddyism #1

Rabbit Rabbit.

"It seems like everyone wants money from you these days."

Tom, Daddy, and I are walking from Daddy's to the Mediterranean Snack Bar.

Daddy: You know, it seems like everyone wants money from you these days.

Me: Are you talking abou those kids having a car wash?

Daddy: Well, yeah. Not just there. Everywhere. Like the supermarket. There's always someone outside asking for money for charity. I'm at the point where if I see that, I'll go to a different supermarket.

Me: Seriously?

Daddy: Yeah, and Wendy's. I go there and get two 5 piece spicy chicken nuggets, which costs $2.18, and then they want a dollar for charity.

Me: Uh huh.

(There is no point arguing a Daddyism.)