Oh Nerd Boy... you odd, odd man.

I never said my father was normal, nor sane.

The other day (A Sunday), I am walking up the driveway. Its 11 am. I have last nights party dress on, my makeup has melted off my face, my hair a mess from dancing, sweating, then drying. I had told the parents I wouldn't be home at night if I was drinking with friends, and I was. My father sees this. His response?

"Hey kiddo. I gotta ask you something about these concrete blocks. Do these look straight? What should I do about the part where it meets the driveway?"

My answer: *grumble* sidewalk? now?

"I'm trying to get your mom to agree to add another row of these... she thinks its too much. I'd need more sand. What do you think?"

me: can I go change first?

I ended up sitting on the front step, half hungover, barely slept, sunglasses on, trying to help him figure out where he wants the sidewalk/patio/whatever-the-heck-you-wanna-call-it. Oh I'm also chugging water like a recently discovered victim of being buried alive.

Tonight I skated up and down the road. I had to come back for water once... other than that, I made 3 trips up and down the road on the flatter parts... I come inside.

"Back already?"

me: (wheeze) shins...

"Jeez, well you're sure sweating."

me: (wheeze) back (pant) hurts (cough) shin splints (chug water)

"Out of shape?"

Me: (look of death)

"what, you used to skate all the time?"

me: (heavy breathing while trying to angrily explain) In a RINK with my derby skates its easier. Its like comparing walking on a flat, hard surface to wading through waist deep water with a sand bottom. ITS HARDER.

"So you're sweaty."

me: *grumble*

Thank you, Captain Obvious.