The post in which I embarrass the hell out of my father

And to embarrass them further here are Mom and Dad

The other night I caught an episode of Would You Rather? on BBC America. It’s a show in which Graham Norton asks a panel of comedians that no one has heard of (aside from maybe Scott Adsit or Alan Cumming) insane and stupid questions. One of the questions they asked was:

Would you rather make an obscene phone call to your mother once a week or get a text message from your father every time he was horny?

I said to myself, “Both my parents are dead so this question is lame.”

But then I thought about it more as I listened to the the panel’s answers. Within the context of the question, if I could speak to my mother once a week from beyond the grave, but I had to start each conversation with an obscene phone call…would I do that? Or would I rather get a text message from beyond the grave from Dad, but only when he’s horny?

Let’s start with talking to Mom…

I couldn’t do this. You see, I absolutely SUCK at the dirty talk. When I “turn on teh sexxaay” I’ve been known to say things such as, “sure?” “if you want to?” “I guess so?” Yes, all these things end with a question mark! And the sexiest thing I’ve ever said… yeah, I said this out loud, to a man as the sexy time started… “If we’re going to do this, I have to remove my tampon.” To his credit, he replied, “go do what you gotta do.” While in the bathroom I stared in the mirror appalled at myself at how insanely awkward I am and said, “THIS is why you are single!” So, yeah, no… I’d rather not go through that WITH MY MOM. I’d prefer to keep things silent.

Dad on the other hand…

This could be a fun game. I am a texting fiend. I have the full QWERTY keyboard and unlimited texting plan because I text more than I talk on the phone. If my phone company had roll over minutes, I could talk until the day I die and I would never run out of minutes.

This would be awesome:

“Chimey chime chime!” Says my phone.

OOH! Is it DAD or…. Oh… just my sister with a cute photo of my niece.

“Chimey chime chime!”

Is it Dad or…. oh… It’s JZ asking me if I’m free for lunch.

“Chimey chime chime!”

Me and Dad, about the time this story took place

That would be fun!  But you know what’s even more fun… Knowing it’s MY DAD. See… my dad was extremely uncomfortable with me and my sisters. He would NEVER bring up any sex talk. If we were to tell him a dirty joke, he would not laugh and he’d act like it was just awful. He would not acknowledge we even had body parts. My favorite story of how embarrassed my dad got around us… oh yeah… this one:

To begin you need to know these things – I have always had an an ample bosom. Most girls started with a training bra, I was 11 and had a B cup. To hide this fact I wore extremely baggy clothing all the time. I was about 22 and my favorite shirt was this huge hand-me-down navy blue sweatshirt that had navy blue embroidery.  It was well worn and the embroidery was the same exact color as the fabric of the shirt creating this odd wrinkled, lumpiness on the front. Also, by this point I was up to a DD cup thinking baggy clothes would hide those suckers.

My sister and her husband were at the dining room table talking with my dad. I came down the stairs and stood across the table from him listening to the conversation. My father stopped and looked at me, “What are those lumps on your shirt?”

I looked down and then I looked up at him, cocked my head to the side and said, very matter-of-fact, “those are my breasts, Dad.”

My sister and her husband busted a gut, laughing so hard. I thought they might fall out of their chairs. My father turned every shade of red that exists on this planet and would not look at me. I was mortified. I could NOT believe I acknowledged the existence my breasts to my father! I could not figure out how my “you’re talking to your dad” filter had malfunctioned so epically. I felt I had to do something to fix this. I walked over to my dad to show him the shirt and he waved me off saying, “GET AWAY FROM ME.” He would not look me in the eye for WEEKS after that incident.

So, knowing how embarrassed he’d be if he knew I was getting a text message from him every time he was horny in the afterlife….oh yeah, that would be a hysterical game. Knowing that he’d be doing everything he possibly could to prevent me from ever getting a text message from him, would make it even more fun.

How about you? Which would you rather?