Archives for category: Family

I’m getting a lot of positive feedback around my recent appearance on Antique Roadshow. Here’s a quick synopsis in case you missed it.

I brought my Dad on the program. The appraiser took one look at him and said “You’re right, he is cheap!”

Antique Road Show

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THE FOLLOWING BLOG DATES BACK TO OCTOBER 2012. The names really should be changed to protect the innoc, strike that, to protect me:

Family was in town last week. Needless to say, I will need 2-3 weeks recovery time and a plethora of legal and illegal drugs to fill the void created by their visit. It’s not that I don’t love my family because I do, but they are just so much more lovable at the therapist suggested distance of 3,142 miles away.

My father brings 74 years of kooky, a little bit of crazy, and a sizable dose of WTF to the picnic. Each visit provides me with a clearer understanding of the origin of my psychosis as well as the futility of continued treatment attempts. A great example of this wacky dynamic is the fact that I stole a wine opener from a hotel where we stayed up north. Why you ask? Because it’s very possible that all my openers could be destroyed in a senseless household fire. Then where would I be? Well I’ll tell you where… In the heat without a refreshing Malbec to quench my thirst!

There are few things less frightening than realizing that your father is actually your biological parent and not just someone you grew up living near and/or around. This weekend I saw the DNA strands clearer than the big reveal on a Jerry Springer “Who’s My Baby’s Daddy” episode. The realization that you’ve become your nemesis is never easy, luckily I can concentrate on that fear alone and not have to worry about how I will open my next Chianti.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had glimpses of my true heritage in the past but chose wisely to ignore them. There was my personal war against Starbucks. Upon realizing that a grande latte in NYC cost $.31 more than the same drink in SF I vowed to never pay for sugar or any condiments while living in the NYC and affectively driving them out of business (surprisingly Starbucks won that battle). Another common trait or characteristic is the overwhelming desire to be at the airport at least if not more than 4.5 plus hours prior to any flight, though one would argue this is not a genetic marker but rather just good common sense.

I have a great deal more to say regarding this topic but it’s time for me to take my pills and besides ‘being up this late is FOOLISHNESS’! [‘being up this late is FOOLISHNESS’ – Neal E. Dolan circa June 1978 and Beyond.]

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