My mother and father. The best people I know. They brought me into this world and have supported me ever since. Recently however, they have surprised me in more ways than I knew were possible.
So my father joined Facebook, and in doing so he has deemed it necessary to utilise some youthful colloquialisms in a status update.
Steve Nichol is clearly unhinged to think Moyes would contemplate a move across the park LOL
There it is.
…I just can’t stop looking at it, y’know? It’s like when you meet someone with a mole on their chin with hair growing out of it. You want to look away, and every fibre of your being is screaming at you to do so, but you just can’t. That one little word, those three capital letters, symbolise not only the end of all sense of normality but also that…my dad is, for want of a better word, “hip”.
It doesn’t stop there, he’s got his wife involved. Just yesterday evening, on the way to my choir practice, to which my mother was driving me, she turns the radio on and asks me to put on some Jessie J. “I really like Jessie J, and her new song, what’s it called?”…
Please join me in the following facial expression, as beautifully demonstrated by The Rock.
I mean, we’re talking about a woman who went to see the Beegees when she was 14 years old at the Empire Theatre (very jealous of that). And there she was, sitting next to me, humming the chorus to Price Tag. Talk about insane in the membrane!
My own mother! My own father! Who’d have ever thought they could be so down with the kids? Mind = blown. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my parents, they are the reason I am who I am, not to mention both of them are fantastic people…but “hip”? Never saw this coming…