“You say it’s your birthday.” Well, I wish we could have a good time together/go to a party party. (Please still dance and take a ch-ch-ch-chance.) And I promise, I’m sending all my lovin’ to you. But for now, this lil’ bit of nostalgia will have to suffice. I love you, daddy! In my mind, you’re still as young as you look/sound in the following.
Here we are together in audio form, featuring me in my Answering Machine debut. Yes, I know I sound like a talking fetus. Mom, dad, you probably should’ve exploited my painfully high-pitched voice for use in a cartoon. That was probably my one shot at stardom.
Thanks, dad, for everything. Particularly notable contributions include: feeding me Cheerios and raisins as a wee babe and allowing me to return the favor, playing The Beach Boys while I made my first wobbly attempts at dancing, providing me with at least one cat throughout my childhood, giving me excellent taste in music, instilling in me an appreciation for the American landscape, escorting me to bed after I insisted on watching X-Files episodes with you, trying to teach me math and financial shtuff, fixing things as dads always do, maintaining my ego at an endurable level for others, emphasizing the importance of being sardonic, and letting me be Daddy’s Little Girl to this very day. (Which includes enduring whining and temper tantrums.) You will always be my go-to guy.
I miss you. Again, I love you.