Terrapin Tables

Christ

You know, I get these emails from my father containing redneck jokes. Which is ironic in its own way because, hello, they vote for the same people he does. And if he stopped to think about it, he'd realize it. Then again, half of my family is from West Virginia. Its after 9 pm and I'm back at work after having 3 tall glasses of vodka and ginger ale. So who's the stupid one now? Don't answer that. Anyway, I see those redneck jokes, and I think to myself, "Come on, no one is that stupid." And, god dammit, my father just sent me the same one twice. So, no one can be as dumb as those redneck jokes. And then I get these documents in work that are in "chronological order." Which apparently, to them, means that they were all printed on the same color paper. Not even the same year. The same year! That number at the end. It's the year! With few exceptions, they have to be the same. You know, the year. That night when you see freeking stroke addled Dick Clark giving himself another stroke trying to count backwards from ten and you get to fuck your sister again, but you get to pretend it was a "special occasion." And not "incest." And Ryan Seacrest stands there and thinks to himself, "I can't even usurp the job of American Bandstand's Stephen Hawking." That night means the year changes. It's different. You don't put all the freeking sixes together, alright? June comes every year. Unless your sister is named June, then June never comes, you hillbilly. Find the clit. Yeah I need a map and a flashlight, so what? Anyway, I guess what I wanted to say is that I love my Dad. And may he never read this.