Notice how I didn’t address you by that embarrassing nickname I’ve been calling you for the last 33 years? Nice, huh?
Well don’t get excited. This isn’t a love letter. This is a letter to ask you why you had to be:
- Present in my formative years
- A disciplinarian (when necessary)
- A confidant
- A wealth of information
- A positive role-model
- The example for what qualities I should look for in a husband and father (and holy cow, if I didn’t totally nail that one! Creepy how similar you two are.)
- And a multitude of other things that forced me to become a responsible, well-balanced, mature young (!) lady
I’m terribly upset by this, Father, as it has become clear to me that I will never earn myself a place on The Bachelor. Nope. I will never have the chance to go on national TV and fall in love with a stranger that 30 other unstable women (whom I happen to live with) are also falling for.
Daddddddddy! I want to make a fool of myself in front of co-workers, ex-teachers, and your business associates! I want to air my dirty laundry, failed relationships, and emotional baggage! I want to cry so hard my mascara leaves my face looking like a California hillside after 78 days of rain. Pleaaaaaaaaase!!!!! You never let me do anything!
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so hard on these girls. I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt (why?) until I heard Girl A wax on about her “daddy issues” to The Bachelor only to hear him lament his own. Seriously?! Him too?!
And then there was the girl who said she’s been trying to get on the show “for 8 years” and “spent a fortune on new dresses.” Wait. 8 years? But “The Bachelor” hasn’t been “the bachelor” for 8 years. So she was content to take any old candidate? As long as she had to compete for him in front of millions of people? Let me get this straight: She spent the last 8 years trying to get on a nationally televised dating show instead of… oh I don’t know… joining e-Harmony, going on a blind date, joining a board game club? Anything but auditioning for The Bachelor! And guess what. She got the boot.
Oh, but the girl who whined the whole day about it being her birthday? “It’s my birthday and I’m stuck here with you bitches. I’m 30 today. Happy Birthday to me. Blah blah blah.” Listen Birthday Girl, no one forced you to be on the show. And if you’re too stupid to read a calendar to determine that your birthday happens to be day 2 of filming The Bachelor, well then, call a cop. But she got a rose. He kept her. At least I think he did. They all started to look alike after the first 45 minutes.
I know what you’re thinking: Why are you watching this crap? And I am here to tell you once again: I have no standards. I am weak. I’m a sucker for a good train wreck. In fact, tonight after dinner, B and I watched a new-to-us show called You’re Cut Off. It’s about a houseful of rich bitches sent to live like “commoners” by their families/boyfriends/pimps. Holy cat fights. If you like watching overly-made up women get drunk on boxed wine and rip out each other’s hair extensions, this show is for you! We totally got a Season Pass to that one! For the record, Celebrity Rehab was on after and we drew the line there. I guess we do have standards.