W.W.A.D.

Hey, kids!  A few things got my giggers... giggerin' today so I'm gonna talk about them.

First off, my Mom is really pressuring my Dad about getting each other meaningful Valentine's gifts this year.  As a joke (or so I thought), she said that she wants him to write her a poem.  Seems simple enough.  But if you know my Dad, you'd know that of the many things he is, wordsmith is not one of them.  In attempt to provide my Mom with her gift, he sought my help.  So I expounded on how easy it is to write poetry because: A) It doesn't really have to rhyme and B) It just has to come from the heart.  Even if it's sappy or poorly executed, if the thought is there, all is good in the 'hood ("the hood" being my house on Wednesday). 

Well this insight didn't make things any easier to my Dad so he sought other "assistance" (i.e. the internet).  At first, he was going to rip off an obscure love poem.  When he asked me how to go about that, he found my true weakness; knowledge about everything and my neverending need to spread that knowledge, whether someone asks for it or not.  This was simple enough though, so I told him to google "love poems" and see what comes up.  When I went in to check on him (you have to check on him, he types like a child, all workin' men do, Yeah!), he had found some site where you could create your own love poem, Mad-Lib style!

I walked away, shaking my head in disbelief.  Afterall, I have seen this very thing go wrong on an episode of Clarissa Explains It All.  But I let him humor himself.  And every few minutes he'd yell across the house, "What's an adjective?"  And I'd yell the answer back.  "What's a noun?"  Like I said, wordsmith, not. 

Anyway, needless to say, the results were ridiculous and couldn't even be given as a gift to a dying war criminal (figuratively speaking, my Mom is neither of these things).  I wish I could find it and post it on here but the internet can be a mysterious and fantastical place where things disappear like Jimmy Hoffa's corpse or the Bill of Rights, depending on who's President at the time.

It's at this point that my Mom gets home from work so my Dad's efforts are done for the day (I think, I'm onto you, Dad!).  He made an odd phonecall that I have yet to discover the details of.  My Mom then bragged about how quickly she finished her poem and how it even rhymes. 

Later in the evening, my Mom turned to me and asked me how my poem is coming.  Apparently, she thought that I was writing one for her as well.  I've always had to get her gifts on Valentine's Day, without ever understanding why but I get her good stuff.  Anyway, I turned to her and said something that I've learned from you ladies over the years.

I said, "Mom.  I'm not writing you a poem and I'll tell you why.  It's because I love you... but I'm not in love with you."  I believe I stuck out my tongue to further my point, and my victory.  Game, Set, Match.

High-Five!   :-P  Pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbth!!!