Nice try, but no

Recently, Dad's been giving me... compliments.
Not your typical compliments... they're sort of... backhanded.

[Mom and Dad are eating in the kitchen, while I stand at the counter reading some mail]
Dad: You know... after all... AnoMALIE looks so much prettier thin than fat.
Me: What?
Dad: Like... you can actually see your face now.
Me: ... Thanks....

[We're driving around, headed to the restaurant Mom picked for Mother's Day. I'm looking out my window because I get sort of car sick when I'm in the back of the Jetta and face forward]
Dad: You know... AnoMALIE has really huge, dark eyes...
Mom: You just noticed that?
Dad: They're really big... and really dark... really dark features... her eyebrows and eyelashes... and eyes.
Me: [internally] What the fuck did I do? Keep your eyes on the road, "dad!"
Dad: She could totally pass for an Arab... [looking at me through the rear view] you should wear those... what are they? Veils? The ones where they cover their entire face and all you can see are their huge dark eyes... you'd totally pass for an Arab.
Me: Thanks, Dad... thanks...

[I'm cleaning an old school "professional" camera that I haven't used since my High School days. I remembered I hadn't finished the roll of film that had been in it since 2003, so I was getting it ready for a "photoshoot" with Tyson]
Dad: Whatever happened to that phase where you wanted to be a photographer?
Me: I wanted to be a photographer?
Dad: No money in it, or what?
Me: No... it was more like a hobby. I had to drop it once... more important things came into the picture, like COLLEGE and Biology.
Dad: Do they get paid well?
Me: If you're good at it... and have a good camera... Why? Wanna buy me a new camera so I can give it a shot? Maybe I'll be more motivated to take pictures if I had a new camera... ::smile big and fake::
Dad: With that money, I'll just buy you a [said some sort of caliber, but I was off dreaming about my camera and how fucking awesome it would be to finally have it in my eager hands] for when you get in the DEA... it'll serve as motivation for you to get that six pack you've been talking about.
[I made the mistake of mentioning it... JOKINGLY after the job fair in February, and he took that shit very seriously. He swears I'm going to join the DEA and the idea just elates him! He must love the idea of his quiet, good girl busting drug lords while holding a gun and yelling obscenities... probably as I stand there in a rolled-up wifebeater... showing my ripped stomach... very a la Lara Croft or some shit. All so he can claim giving life to me... along the way, giving me these "Arab" features he talks so damn much about. Not going to happen, Dad. Not. Gonna. Happen.]

My dad... what a charmer!