Just because my dad was never around because he was a drug-addled loser doesn't mean that he didn't teach me a couple of things. My dad (or "Dave" as he had me call him) taught me that jeans were made for wiping your dirty hands, that the word "toilet" should be pronounced like "troy-let" and how to play Ms. Pac-Man for at least half an hour on one quarter. I was thinking about calling him up to ask him a few questions about his life but then I realised that I didn't have his number. So I called my mum instead.
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