So it’s been a long time since Dad let me borrow his computer and type my own post. Well, let’s face it. I’m not technically allowed to type my own posts because in everyone’s mind I’m just this almost-three-year-old ball of awesome. Either way, there a few things that I want to say before typing this post:
- Taylor Swift just needs to stop. Listen, girl. I get it. You’re trying to build an empire. Who isn’t these day? But you’re exploding to what my Dad calls Donald Trump/Paris Hilton proportions. And that doesn’t sound like a good thing as Dad considers them as a media whore and a failed politician with a cheap toupee. “This sick beat” has been around longer than I have been alive, Dad tells me. And I’m older than your single I love forcing Dad to dance to with me. So just stop. Also, this whole not streaming your music? That needs to stop, too. Dad is never going to buy me your CD and my tablet doesn’t have Internet connection outside the house. How am I going to listen to you now, girl? Stop sticking it to your fans and get with the program, already. Even this almost-three-year-old knows most of your money comes from merchandise and appearances.
- While we’re on the subject of streaming music. Google Play Music All Access (or whatever it’s called) needs a desk top app that we can use on Dad’s laptop. Do you all not know how annoying it is to switch back and forth on tabs to skip a song we don’t like? It’s knackering. It almost makes us want to drop your service and get on Spotify or Pandora One. And neither of those music services compete with yours. So stop being a Tay Swift and give us a desktop app.
Moving on. http://instagram.com/p/zHoDnJtuGL/?modal=true
I spent Valentine’s with Dad. We did the usual Dad things. We went to Barnes and Noble where he bought me a chocolate milk. I played with the Legos while Dad picked up a couple of books for me. Then we went to Target where Dad rushed away in search for something. When the rest of us caught up with him, he was standing beside something. A box. A largeish box. “This is for you,” he told me as I was taken out of the shopping cart and the box was placed in. We went home after where Dad and grandma spent a large amount of time putting it together. When it was all done, Dad called me into the room.
“Oh wow,” I said as I climbed onto my very own bed. It’s nice having a bed to lie in while I play on the tablet. Only Dad wanted me to sleep on it, too! “What do you mean?!” I protested. “This is my bed,” I told him, patting on the large bed we spent every weekend on. But I’m not one to pass up a new opportunity. So I lay back in my own bed and slept the whole night through without so much as a peep. It’s not as spacious as the bigger bed, but at least I’m not disturbed by Dad’s snoring.
He’s talked about giving me a room of my own, too. But I don’t think either of us are ready for that just yet. We’ll see, though. Oh well, I’m out. Until next time, stay frosty… Yeah. I don’t have a nifty sign off like Dad does.
Chapin City Blues 