My father does not want a 300 word essay written with $5 schmoopy words on love and appreciation in a card covered with flowers and silhouettes of seagulls and ribbons and pearls. That is a recycled Mother’s Day card. Nice try.
My father does not want an LOLCat with 3D googly eyes. In fact, no one over the age of 3 wants an LOLCat with 3D googly eyes on their card.
My father does not want an oversized certificate proclaiming him to be The World’s Greatest Father. Where would he put it? Not at his office; that’s bragging.
My father does not want a card that yells “GIT ‘ER DONE!” at his face in a loop. I can do that myself.
My father does not want another fart joke. The first 187 fart joke cards were funny. Then the jokes get recycled with a different cartoon animal with a cloud pouffing out of his butt.
My father does not want to be called “Daddy” by his 30 year old daughter. I call my dad Dad. I didn’t know this was so weird.
Greeting card manufacturers have by the delicate bits, don’t they? They pump out thousands of second and third rate cards and we HAVE to buy one, don’t we? I mean, if we don’t we’re horrible people, right? Every occassion must be celebrated with a card. Them’s the rules.
I could stand in the card section of the drug store for hours, literally hours, scanning and reading and re-reading every single card on the shelves and NOTHING would suffice. I don’t want an overly sacchrine card. I don’t want a novel. I don’t want some goofy novelty. I don’t want toilet humour.
Am I asking too much? Maybe I am, because even I can’t think of what’s left. What would be acceptable? I don’t know. All I know is that I spent nearly 45 minutes standing in the same spot in the store yesterday, staring straight ahead, picking up cards with hope in my heart, slamming them down with disgust. I left with nothing. Nothing would do. I’d rather look like an ungrateful fool than hand over something I’m ashamed I paid money for. I’d rather give my dad the $4.99 I would have spent for a cartoon penquin wearing a Hawaiian shirt on an iceberg with caption “You’re Unique” and on the inside it says “Now I know where I got it from.” or something equally stupid, unentertaining, and meaningles.
I’ll try another store. It’s only Tuesday. Maybe I went to the Stupid Card Store and I missed the Funny and/or Not Completely Pointless Card Store on my way.