Yesterday, I was going about my normal morning routine of finding my pants wherever I'd kicked them off to in my sleep, catching pigeons in the park and eating their feathers when I saw something hilarious happen in my mind. It's not very important what it was (whoopie cushion). What's important anyway, is that I laughed. It wasn't my normal laugh, though! I laughed exactly how my father has laughed for at least the past 25 years I've been alive excluding wolf moons, leap days, and whenever he wears green. What's even more uncanny is the fact I was wearing green that day!Now, up until last year I would have hated this. I would have jumped immediately out of that weird lake, climbed that orange mesh fencing, and started work on changing my entire persona- that is, until I realized I finally get my dad. This last year alone I have picked up snoring and nearly dying in my sleep, have lost 30% more hair since January than I usually lose per year, and have noticed my mustache is finally coming in just as well as all the cool kids who spell it 'moustache' and live around me. I had an idea to write a joke in here about someone’s backwards hat growing in quite nicely, but I couldn’t figure out how to word it. That’s why it’s just thrown in here. The only drawback to all of this is my height's inevitable diminishing, my alcoholism developing, and a small rage problem later on in life. Is that such a big price to pay for such a nice mustache, though? I think not. But there's a larger point to be made here! A very funny man once said 'we mock that which we are to be." Can anyone tell me what this means? email@example.com As a pioneer in a world of smart asses, I have been the bane of my father's mature, adult existence for quite some time now. What does this mean for my own future? Am I to hang up my towel and never expect to hear exasperated sighs when I enter a conversation? What will become of anyone with a genuine insight or point to make? Who will be left to slap me if I am no longer slappable? What my grand point and what you readers can take out of all of this exposition really is is this: cherish the time you spend with your parents now, while you don't understand them; sooner or later you're going to become them and all your rebellious years will be wasted otherwise. Of course, you can always just say 'fuck it' and live however you want. Who the fuck am I to say how you should live your life? My dad- that's who I am.
tl;dr: who wants to get matching denim jackets and start a gang with me? We can get mini bikes and call ourselves The Ghoulies.