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Monday, June 21, 2010

Papa-isms

Concerned that my childbearing days are passing me by, Papa says to me: "Miri-an, you are picky. Ven am i going to a finally push my granmchildrenz from you in ze baby carriage?" I reply, with a smirk -  "Papa, I can arrange that without getting married...  if you like." Papa - "O! Ok! I vait! I vait!" (He has not asked me since.)

After several attempts of papa trying to get me to meet (or rather, randomly set me up with)  Russian men, and much vehement refusal and good stern scolding on my part, my stepmother mentions that she met some man in Miami that was a jeweler, and she has a card for me if I want to call him. Papa is next to us, and turns to her and says, "O! No, leave it her alone!". I look at Papa, grin broadly and pat him on the back "Oh, thank goodness, I have finally taught him to step meddling". Papa nods his head, and says, "O! Yez! I know you iz ze picky. I leave it you alone!"

Driving in the car on Father's Day, my stepmother has a cough and wants a sucking candy. I look in the glove compartment, and then in the center console. There, I find a sample pack of... Levitra. I look at Papa wide-eyed, and point at the box. He looks at me, points to his wife and says... shhhhh!!!!!!! Ok, Papa, you have your ways of satisfying the lady, I am mortified as is, and need to not know anymore. Play on, playa.

Papa and I are arguing, and as usual, I am telling him what to do. He looks me squarely in the eyes and proceeds to tell me, "Miri-an, you are so bossy. Ven you finally get it da husband, I give it him permission to bit you, ev-e-ry single day." Thanks, Pops. Thanks.

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