Being that often times I feel like my views and stories matter (which they don’t of course) and I haven’t posted shit in months, I’m gonna hit you with the Armenian remix of the beautiful daughters tragedy.
Now me personally, I have a feeling that I’m having sons no matter how many
skeezers I bang out with attemps I make at fatherhood. My brother has 2 sons, my father has 2 sons and his father has 2 sons. With that said, life will probably continue to shit on me and produce anywhere from 2 to 5 continuously disappointing daughters.
Their mother/s will either be someone who’s name I didn’t get before I planted the seed, a girl arranged for me before I was born and don’t know about yet or a honey imported from the mother land. These daughters, they will have the standard Armenian upbringing which is far from standard by anyone’s… uh… standards. Way too many uncles and aunts, countless BBQs without ever seeing a conventional grill and talks of possible suitors soon as they can walk. They’ll be book smart, understand geography and math really well but be dirt ass stupid when it comes to the common sense (no Resurrection).
They’ll do the whole Barbie dolls and pony tea parties thing and take interest in the fellas relatively early in their pre-pubescent lives. This will matter not because they will never be allowed outside of the house until their 20s and will only know the companionship of young hairy half-breed Armenian boys aka the sons of my infinite cousins. Their undoing is going to be this sheltered life. Too much good food and no contact with the outside world will produce vivaciously curved young womens with as much understanding of the “real world” as MTV aka very little if not no understanding.
Once their curious minds outreach daddy’s overly protectiveness they will venture out into college… community college but college all the same. This is where she befriends a girl who she should never meet; the same skanky heefer I’ve spent my late teens and early 20s with. This girl will give her her version of the “steps to success”. Now the daughters were always beautiful and shapely but I would have had them clothed in more layers than a turduckin on Thanksgiving. Their new friend who will no doubt be less thick and more skanky will provide fashion advice and if I’m lucky, herpes free loaner clothing that will fit the snuggest.
She’ll start enjoying the attention of boys. The never-been-to-the-gym-but-firm-thick body will start getting noticed and she’ll start noticing too and get that new wardrobe. She will know about sex but still be that good virgin girl because she doesn’t want to get anyone killed around here dig? With these new discoveries the daughter will still get that degree in law or political science or engineering; something practical. She will want to goto grad school somewhere out-of-state. She’ll mention UCLA because it’s in the “homeland” aka little Armenia and the father will have to concede because this will be a great opportunity. Too bad the only reason she wants to goto California is to be “discovered”.
Then my worst fear fruits into conception and she ends up with Royal’s son who will at this point be playin at USC on a football/lacrosse scholarship, end up teaching her all the positions (not talkin bout strong safety or x man) because all she knows about sports is that they start makin money somewhere between college and retirement and end up on the internets in some vag-in-a shots or the coupe de grace “home video”.
And of course I will not wonder what happened to daddy’s little girl, I’ll just continue to curse my life while letting the good Lord humor himself with it.