The rare and elusive Psychoticunt…

Father’s Day is interesting when both you and your sister are mad at your father for being a passive-aggressive dumbass and — let’s be honest — for always choosing his other family over you. Especially when you don’t feel welcome in his home right now, anyway, because his wife is a psychotic cunt. (Psychoticunt?)

What’s good, Hallmark? Where’s my cute, clever card for this?

The therapist said it’s perfectly acceptable for me to just text him, so…score.

Sorry, man, but…ya know — cats, cradle, etc. For once I gotta choose me instead of keeping peace. You’re both already pissy with me — fuck it, I might as well get a relaxing Sunday out of it.

P.S. My therapist didn’t know “Cat’s in the Cradle,” and I’m honestly stunned they don’t teach that shit in therapy school. That and “Daddy Wasn’t There.” Y’all need to re-examine your curriculum. Music education is important.

Papa, don’t preach. (No, really. Stop.)

What’s great about having a dysfunctional family is that, between Dad, Stepdad, and Grandpa, this whole weekend was Father’s Day. So I’ve just been going house to house trick-or-treating for daddy issues.

“Yes, I should absolutely stay at my job forever and never pursue anything different, because I have ‘stability’ and I’m ‘not getting any younger.'”

“Nope, not dating anyone. No, not a lesbian, either, but thanks for letting me know that would be OK. I really, REALLY like dick, though.”

“Mm hmm, yeah — Whole Foods IS too expensive. I don’t know why I go there, either. I COULD get the same things at Walmart.”

“Yes, I’m sure he IS going to make America great again…”

Too much family. Not enough alcohol.

The gift of life. I guess…

I’m scheduling an appointment to donate blood, and my local options are “go before work next week” or “go before the whole-family Father’s Day lunch.”

So either way, I’m making an appointment to be drained of my literal life source before being drained of my figurative one.

A Father’s Day gift.

During my last relationship, my dad asked three times when we were going to give him some grandchildren.

The first two times, I didn’t want to be rude, so I just gave the generic answer: “When we’re married, have a house,” etc.

The third time, I said, “Dad, do you realize how gross it is to ask your daughter when she’s going to start having unprotected sex?”

Aaaand that was the last time I got that question.

Happy Father’s Day!

Surprising no one, I have daddy issues.

I almost wish I were sadder that I’m spending Father’s Day alone with a book and Netflix because my dad never answered my emails about having lunch.

That’s OK, though, I can totally tell he misses me when he posts it on Facebook.

(I’m kidding. Mostly. My dad loves me. And hey, I don’t have to put on pants today!)