Vampires Suck

My father and I have never had the greatest of relationships. It's always been less of a father/daughter thing and more of a brother-sister/sister-brother thing. That is to say: my fifty-four-year-old father acts, at times, alarmingly like (1) a thirteen-year-old girl and (b) an eight-year-old boy, and I tend to alternate between (a) generic teenaged tomboy and (2) unamused older sibling, depending on his proximity and how he's acting. Obviously I love him enough to tolerate him and make an attempt to be less than openly hostile when he's invaded my room for the third time in the last hour or woken me before noon to tell me which movie he rented because it's oh so imperative that I know immediately. I definitely love him enough to feel less than bad when he buys me things because buying me a Christmas gift when we've decided to skip Christmas is definitely going to earn him a permanent place in my good graces. 

Often enough he has the gall to invade my territory (my room) and harass me under the guise of wanting to know what I'm watching or no guise at all. I tend to think he comes to harass my cat, but I sometimes think he does it to get at both of us, like a vindictive little brother. I try to be quiet and make subtle hints when he does this. For example, if Squeaker, my fat cat (who harbors an intolerance for males, particularly him), is in the room and is yelling at him, obviously telling him to get the fuck out so she can sleep, I'll be all like, "I think she's telling you to go away. :/" When she's not there, I put up with him as best I can: monosyllabic answers and pretending to be greatly preoccupied with whatever I'm doing. 

"Oh, what are you playing?" "Final Fantasy Ten." Awkward silence while I put on a face that says, "I'm focused on this ba-. Fuck it's over. Okay, this one is the one I'm focused on. Go away." "Okay, well, I'm going to go watch <insert movie that I obviously do not want to watch here>, want to come?" "No." "Okay." And he makes a retreat, leaving me with the satisfaction of having won and knowing what the words "sweet freedom" truly mean.*

This morning he woke me up to tell me that he'd rented Vampires Suck and the new Resident Evil movie. It was before noon, about an hour before it to be exact, and I was a little annoyed, despite the fact that I'd already been awake for several minutes trying to get back to sleep and pretend that Christmas Vacation isn't swiftly coming to an end. Nonetheless, I was up. 

About ten minutes later, I go out into the kitchen is search of food - a task which, as of late, seems to be a contest of wills between me, my stomach, and the fridge - and he comes in proclaiming that he cannot watch Vampires Suck. I talk him into finishing it, and even seal the deal by committing myself to watching it with him, despite the fact that I wanted to get in some prime time with Final Fantasy X (which I'm replaying, because I never did manage to kick Tidus's dad's ass) before lunch time. I really have no problem with the task, as I enjoyed that movie the first time I saw it, and expected to catch any of the funny things I missed. I even half-expected him to enjoy it; I mean, he's seen Twilight and it's sequels, and there should have been plenty of things that he could laugh at. 

Alas, I can't have a cool dad who looks at Twilight and says, "What is this shit? That's not even a vampire." No, I have to have the one that cries at sappy movie endings, watches movies like Bandslam twenty or more times, and openly declares Twilight to be one of his favorites. Yup. I suppose I should just be happy that he (a) doesn't participate in the Teams (I'm Team Van, by the way) and really has no idea what they are and (b) doesn't want his own Edward/Jacob. At least, I hope the latter is true, because otherwise everything I've ever known will be rendered a lie, and my sanity will shatter into a thousand million tiny pieces never to be returned to its original state again. Or I'll change my name and move to a remote region of Africa to prove myself and get accepted into a tribe where no one knows of Twilight or my father. 

*Yes, that was a horrible, horrible abuse of conventions, and I apologize profusely, but not soprofusely as to give you the impression that I actually regret anything.