Tonight, the night drizzles endlessly, the man of the house becomes a man under the roof, pumped with estrogen. Due to the rain, no one really wanted to go out, so we all ended up watching TV. Reality TV shows became the center of the attention. Doris, Sandy and I attended Fashion Runway with vigorous diligence, occasionally mimicking the gay lisps of different contenders. While Dad, on the other hand, attended his English grammar online quietly. Until Stylista, a fashion editorial reality show, came on when he unleashed his virulent inputs.
First, the 19 year-old Devin went over her budget and Dad, being a project manager for more than a decade exclaimed, “That is the basic thing in doing anything, NEVER go over budget!” He continued, “If I were the judge, she’d be the first one I send home in the first round, even if she’s talented.” I nodded solemnly as my sister and Doris stared vacantly into the TV.
Then, he stormed off onto the balcony, smoked a cigarette, and returned to his vertical two-seater in the living room—the default position of his TV-watching activity—I knew he was hooked.
Throughout the show, Doris continued making her usual comments on how the girls are arrogant or not confident enough, while Dad making his remarks like: “Her fatness would not fly in this industry. No one would hire people who isn’t quick and agile enough for this kind of business!” That’s when I realized that my dad is becoming more like a woman, while successfully maintaining his innate engineer self.
Due to the years of being the only male in the family, he has become a character that is beyond any bitchiness. Gifted with the rationality to reason all his venom, he has evolved into the hybrid of ‘ultimate’ bitchiness.
As the show came to an end, he brushed his teeth quietly and went to bed, absent with the knowledge of the power of judgment embedded with critical prejudice and logical reasonings, then slumbered noisily under the plopping raindrops.
