The conversation that I just had with my father (F for father, M for me or Michelle):

F: Do you want this photo? [gestures to photo of me and D from work laughing, it’s a little bit blurry]
M: Yes.
F: But you can’t even tell who’s in it.
M: […] Yes, I can.
F: I’m deleting it, I don’t recognize them.
M: It’s my photos from work. You’re not deleting it.
F: But I can’t even tell who they are.
M: Well that’s because you didn’t work there.
F: How about this photo? [It’s a photo of me sitting in the office, it’s not blurry]
M: Yes. Keep it.
F: But it’s just some room. It could be any room.
M: It could be. But it’s not. Keep. It.
F: How about this photo? [Photo of Clay, the only one I have of him that’s not blurry, has zero inappropriate gestures from anyone and he’s smiling]
M: Keep it.
F: How about this one? [Seemingly boring photo of a wall; it’s actually of the shoe prints I made on the wall with D one day]
M: Keep it.
F: Why do you you want all these stupid photos?
M: [mutters something and then…] Because I’m crazy. I get it from you.

2 Responses

  1. Ahh man, don’t you hate it when one of your parents just won’t shut up and keeps talking? My mom is always like that on the phone. She feels she needs to repeat things to me several times in order for me to get it; after the second or third time, I just want to say, “Okay, shut up now!” xD

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