A Letter To My Father On His Birthday

Dear Dad,

                Happy Birthday!!!  63 the big six-three, you don’t look a day over 62 and a half.  I hope this letter finds you well.  That is kind of a fun expression don’t you think.  It personifies the letter as if the letter was ‘searching’ for you and has now ‘found’ you.  Not only did it complete its’ ‘search’, but it has somehow ‘discovered’ that you are ‘well’, as if it can determine your state of being.  Imagine that a piece of paper actually being able to qualify your emotional/physical/mental state.  WHAT FUN!!!

                How is Mom?  … I guess you can’t answer immediately since this a letter.  So, I guess I shouldn’t have even asked, she may be great now, but by the time I get your response she may be terrible.  So, never mind about how Mom is, I will just ask when I call you later. 

                The rash went away.  FINALLY!!!  And most everything is going well with me.  The heat just stopped working in my apartment, but I have taken to wearing socks on my hands and my head and my genitals, which is the style nowadays anyway, so I keep pretty warm.  The pipes froze the other day so I haven’t showered or drank any water in the last 72 hours.  I dug a hole in my backyard to dispose of waste which has worked well so far, I felt like a very DIY handyman type.  DIY means do it yourself by the way, in case you don’t know the new hip lingo.

                I didn’t get the promotion at the job that I hate yet.  But I am still holding out, there is nothing like more responsibility to really get me motivated.  The other day I was thinking about what you were like when you were 28.  Do you think we would’ve been friends?  Either that or mortal enemies.  There just wouldn’t have been room enough on this planet for both of our 28 year old egos.  You were married and had one baby girl by then.  We probably wouldn’t have hung out much because I am afraid of babies.  I think it is because I am the youngest and we never had pets growing up.  When I see a baby I tend to just think of the worst possible thing I could do: i.e.; smash it, throw it, etc.  Also, I don’t like talking to them like they are babies.  I would much rather just talk to them like normal adults, but then everybody looks at me weird.  Like last week I asked my friends baby “So, baby, how’s is work going?”,   he just pooped and cried.

                Well, anyway happy birthday dad and remember each day is better than the next.  I love you and you are my hero.

LOVE

Your Son, Joe

 

P.S.  Send money

P.P.S.  Did you know that “P.S.” stands for post script

P.P.S.S.  I was just kidding about sending money

P.P.P.S.S.  Did you see Miley Cyrus’ MTV unplugged that junk was off the chain!