Nightcap

Trying to be cool as I left work this afternoon, I nonchalantly tossed a manuscript I have to proof tomorrow onto my desk, and, as the stack left my hand, my palm caught the searing edge of the pages, leaving me the most gruesome paper cut I’ve ever experienced. Because I work in a publishing house, people are always making retarded jokes like ‘Oh, do you get worker’s comp for paper cuts? Hahaha! I’m so fucking funny.” You know what: you’re not funny. That paper cut hurt. Bad. Furthermore, making my situation worse, I was leaving, which means I had to get on the subway. I don’t think I have to tell you that the New York City subway system is about the last place you want to be with an open flesh wound. So I ended up making a bandagelike concoction from tissue paper and a wad of Big Red I was chewing. Then I got on the subway. Bad call? Only an HIV test will tell…

Anyway, I’ve been noticing how people use unnecessary sentences in conversation. The most obvious example was today, my dad, upon looking in my brother’s mess-of-a room (which, at an earlier time, he referred to as a ‘sewer’), declared “You’re not gonna live like this, mister! You’re gonna clean this room up! This isn’t the frat house, buster!” Lets analyze that three-part proclamation:

“We’re not gonna live like this, mister!” Okay dad, I’ll give you this one. Nice thesis statement. Active negated verbs. Personalized with a “mister” tagged at the end. Message effectively sent.

“You’re gonna clean this room up!” Here we’re starting to get a bit superlative. I think it was more or less understood in the last sentence that “we’re not gonna live like this”, hence the only logical solution would be to “clean [the] room up.” But you know what, I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let this one slide.

“This isn’t the frat house, buster!” Now I gotta draw the line. Dad, do you really deem it necessary to further remind Chris that this is in fact not the frat house. Do you really think he came home, bags and keg in tow, convinced, “Hey I’m at the frat house, no rules!” Moreover, I agree dad, frats are infamous for their flophouse disregard of order and cleanliness, but do you really think that was the most apt metaphor? Wouldn’t pointing that “This isn’t a shantytown for hobos” worked a little better to convey your take-home "slob reform” message? I want you to work on this in the future dad.

In other dad related news, I just finished writing a Collegehumor article where I referenced my dad as being an avid flaunter of tiddy whiteys and V-neck undershirts (with V-neck undershirt tucked into tiddys). Well, before he was going to bed, I caught him walking around WITHOUT the V-neck tucked in, so I felt obliged to ask, “Dad, what happened to tucking the undershirt into the underpants.” He just looked at me, shook his head, walked past me, and, in his wake, shot back, “Styles change.”