don't touch my daugther
so tuesday marked the end of my tv production class, which felt like the last day of sixth grade, since basically, we all stood around after class, talking about plans and havin' a cool summer and hopin' we'd run into each other again down the road. anyways, what seems to be something so standard for community college, besides the token dude who looks like jesus, is the class dad. you know the type, the guy in his 50s, taking class either before his job starts or on his lunch break or after work; he has a couple of kids in the same age bracket as a majority of the kids in class and lively sense of humor. yet at the same time, when you pitch a project idea, he'll object and ask questions like we're about to go hang out with the burn out kids on a friday night. it's that parential instinct, man.
one day, i was going over some b-roll footage i shot at robin brown's house and i get a bit of natali hopkin's torso in the frame, so the class dad is over my shoulder and sees the torso of hops and says, "is that my daugther?" i look over at him and say, "unless, your daugther is my friend's girlfriend and hangs out with weiner kids who are obessesed with french films." he nodded and said something about how she does hang out with weiner kids.
yet as the semester went on, i had a reoccuring joke with a couple of people about the class's dad's daugther and how over protective he is of her. the three of us would look at each other and shout during lectures, "don't touch my daugther" and proceed to laugh ourselves silly. yet as the joke continued, the more and more interested became in finally seeing what exactly the daugther looked like.
i mean, if he thought that hops was the daugther, then the daugther would be pretty alright. so i would causually ask other kids in class if they've seen the daugther and some would say, yeah, i saw her, she's hot. but the bullshit detector was rating high with those particular statements.
so i'm talking with the class dad about where i went to high school and what not on the last day. he says that his daugther went to that school as well and graduated a year after me. so she was a junior to my senior. so i rush home and check her out in the yearbook and the mystery daughter is a total babe. which lead to this sorta of spin control where i called my friend evelynn, who oddly kept sorta track of the people i made fun of in high school and asked her if i had made fun of her or not, cause i'm oddly kick myself for not working on more projects with the class dad in a feemble attempt to get closer to the hot daugther.
i need to discuss the manner with robin brown further. which, by the way, its his birfday today.