tobermory's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- beet red I just had possibly the most embarrassing conversation ever with my dad. This one harkened back to a previous conversation we had in a car in Wisconsin where he asked what the sea of plastic igloo thingys at the dairy farm were for. I answered, �veal,� and he said, �beal?� The set off a volley of VEAL! Followed by beal? finally culminating with me screaming, �BABY COWS � you know what you are going to EAT TONIGHT!� I love family dynamics. And proud older men who won�t get hearing aids no matter how much they need them. Anyway, my dad came by my desk (this is a cube � not an office � there are two other people who work near me) and said, �what does onanastic mean?� Ok, I know what it means, but I didn�t particularly want to say. I asked him if it was in his dictionary and he said, �no. I looked it up but it wasn�t there.� Apparently he was reading an article that mentioned something about the Franch president�s onanastic fantasies (side note � what could he have been reading?) Crap. So, quietly I said, �masturbatory.� He said, �what?� So, a little louder I said again, �masturbatory.� Again, �what?� So this time I made the crude hand gesture (you know what I mean) while I was saying, �masturbatory.� He looked confused and said, �mastur-ta-tory?� I gave up on all pretense of composure and said loudly, �masturbatory � as in to masturbate.� That one he got (and so did everyone in the immediate vicinity) although he seemed to doubt me so I googled onanism and found that the root is from the biblical Onan who spilled his seed on the ground rather than impregnate his dead brother�s wife. I am so embarrassed I want to crawl under a rock. Nobody should have to talk about masturbation with their 81 year old dad. Gah. Breakfast: frosted flakes. 3:56 p.m. - 2007-08-22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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