My dad is killing me, again. I was on the phone with him, telling him my schedule, and when I got to the part about being home before 9 because I wanted to get at least one batch of Saturday's cookies baked off, tonight, when he exclaimed, "Again?!".
See, Dad is upset that I'm baking cookies, because I'm fat. He told me so. He also told me that it's a shame that I'm a good cook, because I eat too much of what I make. I'm going to have to euthanize the son of a bitch one of these days.
Especially since he was a fat, fat man all his life, until illness took away his appetite.