Earlier this week, as I stepped outside of my room, my nose caught a whiff of tobacco smell.
‘Ahhhhhhh….Pops is up.’ …and true enough my dad was at the hall, on his phone – parents these days… Tsk. No ‘good morning’ nothing. BAHAHA.
So I greeted him with a ‘morning yo!’ and his sweet reply was…
Dad: Where are you going?
Me: Office? Why? What made you ask me that?
Dad: You’re going office like thaat?
Me: *scans self up and down* At least I did not forget to put my pants on….
Like one (or few) times back *
Me: What’s wrong with my outfit?
Dad: Why are you wearing trackpants to work?
Me: * stops twirling * (Yes I twirl around. Even. In. The. Morning.) It’s not trackpants laaaaa. It’s just a pants.
Me: * Leaving the house *
Dad: *Dad glanced at me one more time* Eh, I think something is wrong with your top. One is longer than the other.
It is meant to be like thaaaatt…..
Dad: Oh, I thought something went wrong with it. Kids these days… ‘crooked’ clothes also wear…
Errr… I think I look pretty decent, if not chic.
And then we have someone like my dad that diss Michael Jackson’s fashion and goes ‘… Trackpants…’
Clearly my dad is out of touch with fashion. Time for a little trip to Zara with him maybe!