Shit My Dad Says- No Really

Remember when I told you my dad was an asshole? It was a two-parter, because he's THAT big of an asshole. Well, did I mention that he's also dumb? Before I give you the conversation we had last night, let me remind you of a few key points:

• My dad is kind of (definitely?) a hobo. He is not currently homeless; he is living in a rooming house, but he has been homeless many times before.


• My dad never paid child support to my mother and spent a short period of time in jail for it


• My dad is a ridiculous hypochondriac

Ok. Now that you are all up to speed, let's get into that amazing conversation, shall we?

Me: Hello?

Dad: This is your father (He ALWAYS starts a phone conversation with "this is your father". That's what caller ID is for, bitch).

Me: Hi Dad. What's up?

Dad: Remember how I told about the bed in my room?

Me: Umm... I remember you saying it sucked and your back hurt.

Dad: And that I've been getting sick all the time since I've been living here?

Me: I remember you saying that air-conditioning gives you pneumonia (again, I wish I were exaggerating for comedic enhancement. He really believes air-conditioning causes pneumonia).

Dad: Well I figured out why I keep getting sick. I threw that mattress out today. There was blood on the bottom of it.

Me: Well... that's gross, but I doubt it was making you sick.

Dad: There were bugs too, like those little red bugs. They had fresh blood in them too.

Me: ...

Dad: I wonder if the guy who lived here before me killed someone on that bed who had AIDS.

Me: ...

Dad: Those bugs had fresh blood in them, Jaclyn!

Me: Dad, we've been over this. Remember when you were in jail and you thought you had AIDS because a bunch of the guys in there with you were drug dealers?

Dad: One of the guys worked in the kitchen and he always gave me a special tray. He was definitely trying to poison me (with AIDS, presumably).

Me: Dad, you do not have AIDS. You can't get AIDS from sleeping on a sheet on top of a mattress that has some dried blood on the bottom where you aren't even in contact with it.

Dad: I think I have AIDS.

The worst part is that we have had a very similar exchange on many occasions. It's not 1982 anymore and he has absolutely no excuse to be this ignorant. And even if he is oblivious to how AIDS is transmitted, you would think his fear would have him do enough research to know a little bit about how AIDS actually effects a body and what kind of timeframe it takes to kill a person. Or that it actually doesn't kill a person, but rather that they die of complications from other illnesses. Not the least of which would be air-conditioning pneumonia.

So he has been living in his current place for less than 6 months. And he believes that not only did he aquire HIV through the air or bugs or some shit, but that it has turned into full-blown AIDS in half a year. My god.

After that was a whole host of really tasteless jokes with Nadine on Facebook about how you can get AIDS, but I'll spare you those unless you REALLY want to see them and also promise not to send me threatening letters.