I hate Tupperware

Well I’m fuming so I may as well write about it…

This blog will go out to parents, we all have them, and sometimes they are dumb. Don’t get me wrong, I can be dumb too, I can openly accept that and will take any criticism to the extent that I can be retarded at times as well. If fact I think that I am most of the time, although I can carefully disguise it as being intentional if I bring enough confidence into my foolish decisions. Tip for later on in life – whatever you do, don’t say ‘oops’ just say ‘there!’. For example, a hairdresser is occupying themselves on your head, meticulously lifting layers of amino acid strands from your scalp and cutting them to a given length. Say, perhaps, the scissors should slip, them saying oops will instantly decrease any tip they hope to get to zero, while exclaiming with utter most confidence ‘there’ will fill you with a sense of their accomplishment and a fulfillment of their hairstyling destiny. In addition to this, always be cautious of hairdressers and surgeons who say ‘there’ a lot.

Alright, so I’m dumb, but confident about it. My father, on the other hand, can be one of the most irritating people I know, at times. He can be a great, spontaneous, and fun guy, encouraging me to drift Maxwell, our Csmart, or will take me out for ice cream on the motorcycle, but there are other times that I just want to hold my fingers up to my eye and pretend to squish his head with him fully aware of my actions. Yes, I know, I give all of you heck for not working out things with your folks, and this will blow over probably in an hour (it’s a lot harder not to talk to someone that you live with), but I’m still big and green, hence, quite angry.

As soon as I come into the house fresh off work, he goes on to tell me that I should take the Tupperware out of my room, and then yells at me for not taking another plate to microwave it on because – TUPPERWARE CAUSES CANCER, and he saw it posted at work. Yup. And you know, it’s probably true. I simply replied, ‘In my genetics class, we learned everything causes cancer’ which is true considering you can’t even breathe without having to worry… alright Dad and I just worked things out, but I’m still going to vent because I think this sounds good so far.

So what I meant was that if we all listened to every news report out there about what gives you cancer, or Alzheimer’s, or (insert disease here), and ultimately death, we couldn’t do anything. As for mentioning that I learned it in genetics, it was simply to add credibility to my case, better then his, ‘I saw it at work’.

He immediately switches his jersey and works on the defense, yelling that ‘You think you’re so smart ‘cause you go to University. We all know how smart you are… don’t worry, just stupid Dad trying to keep you kids safe!’ Thanks, Dad. So as usual I go stomping off because I know that no matter what I say, he won’t agree. He continues to yell, remarking something to the muffled extent that I think I’m too good to talk with him.

This would be an awkward conversation at best if this were the first time he brought up me talking down to him, but it’s a recurring theme. Yipee. Thanks again, Dad. I mean that fact that I’m fairly certain that he is in the six digit salary range, using only a high school education, a number that I aspire to reach, means nothing to him. Or the fact that I think that he’s done a terrific job trying to raise us on his own, despite his ‘lowly’ education, doesn’t strike any kind of chord with him. I think that he, on some level, feels self conscious about it, despite the fact that he is one of the smartest people I know. Not necessarily book smart, but unlike me, he can successfully make Kraft dinner, or make a motorcycle using a lawn mower. He’s built me dollhouses, and had saved many lives working as the fire chief at Shell. I just wish for one moment he’d realize that deep down, I know I won’t know as much as he does, and I don’t want to seem smarter then him, I just wanted him to realize that you can’t trust everything you read.
- But as I said before, he said it’s fine, I said it’s fine, then he offered to heat up some chili for me in a Tupperware container and I’m wondering if he loves me or is trying to kill me…