Counsel wha... ?

I walked into the house today to find out Dad was nowhere in sight.
Ok... maybe he's at church.
At about 10 PM, dad walks into the house... in a weird Jesus shirt.
It was a cross with all these words scribbled over it:
Love. Peace. Joy. Follow the Lord. Summer 2010.

WTF, Dad?
Mom: Oh, we didn't tell you?
Me: What?
Mom: He's a camp counselor.
Me: WHAAAAAT?!
Mom: Shut up, he'll hear you.

I guess his church is running a summer camp for grade-school kids that are out of school.

I guess this would be the time to mention my dad's a preacher.
Yes, I, AnoMALIE, a born-and-raised Catholic, have a Pentecostal Preacher Dad.
... daughter of a preacher man... haha.. amuses me. Here, the man who would scare the shit out of me as a kid with his incessant talk of "the end" being near... and his constant haranguing of homosexuals and how they should go to hell for being "sick"... is considered capable of preaching to others. Jesus... I can't... OK, I'll shut up and quit shaking my head now.

Anyway, I guess this position makes him eligible to counsel these kids.
My dad.

I love my Daddy... but... come on... it's the man who tied seat-bealts around my brother's neck and my stomach (I'd add the photo just for shits and giggles again... but I think posting those shits twice is more than enough) while at Great America.
The man can't take care of a toaster, let alone children.

I still remember the one time Mom thought she'd be able to get a job as a waitress and quit being a housewife back when I was in second grade...

That was the most miserable month of my life.

I'd wake up to Mom getting ready to leave for her job at the Horseshoe. I'd cry and beg her not to leave.
Then Dad had to get me ready for school...
I was 7, but I KNEW I was mismatching.
He would never check my homework... and that month I had to eat school lunch, since Dad (still) didn't know how to pack lunches.
My hair? It was a wreck. It looked like two cats had humped on top of my head... and I'd opt for the "Ariel" look... my hair down past my butt and "free-flowing" aka I came home with a rat's nest for hair.

I love you Pops, but you know jack-shit about kids.

And yeah, I'm jealous Dad wants to spend time with these strange kids, when back in the day he'd leave my siblings and I to our own devices.

Fuck you, strange kids!! I hope my dad fucks up your hair!