I’ve noticed as I get older I struggle with technology more. I work with a number of women in their early to mid-twenties who, on a fairly regular basis, roll their eyes at one another and sigh in exasperation when attempting to explain to me how hashtags on Instagram work. I get that it’s a complicated field to keep up with. However a recent situation with my father made me realize that my parent’s generation is out of control and they need help.
When I posted my Whooty Girl Gone article a couple of weeks ago I was pretty nervous because it featured a link to a YouTube video with a girl doing a dance that was borderline pornographic and my whole family, including my eighty-two year old grandmother, would be looking at it. Regardless, I was confident in my family’s sense of humor and their ability to see the tongue-in-cheek nature of it all. That was until my brother relayed to me that my father thought the girl in the video was me, and was disturbed to say the least.
I got to thinking that perhaps people who aren’t familiar with the way blogs work, just assume that whatever pictures or videos I post on mine, are of me specifically. They are not. While this seems obvious to me, in my dad’s defense, I can see the confusion. However in my defense, I want to do a quick break down of all the other reasons it never occurred to me that anyone, least of all my FATHER, would mistake the real Whooty Girl for the Rheel Whooty Girl.
Let’s start with how I clearly stated this was “a video sent to me by my friend Alex”. I felt this was a pretty good indicator that this was a video sent to me by my friend Alex.
Secondly, no disrespect to the girl in this video, her name is Melody Jai and she is obviously incredibly talented, but while I have nothing on her perfectly shaped derriere, she doesn’t hold a candle to what I’ve got going on up top. Granted this is not the kind of thing I would expect my dad to take immediate notice of, but the difference is such that my boobs look like they could have eaten her boobs for breakfast and asked for seconds.
Thirdly, I do not have a lower back tattoo. I understand this may have been something my father was “iffy” on. It’s not like I’m flashing him my backside over the holidays or at family functions, however we have been to Puerto Rico together the last three years in a row where I was pretty much wearing a bathing suit for the entire duration of each trip so barring me having had a mid life crisis since our last vacation that he was not aware of, this would be a dead giveaway.
Another thing I thought was weird, was that my father has been to my apartment several times, so I’m not sure where he thought this was filmed. I suppose I could I have done it somewhere other than where I live, but why would I? Trust me, if this video were shot anywhere in my my crib, you wouldn’t even notice a girl shaking her ass in your face because you’d be too busy wondering why a thirty-four year old woman had three posters of Dolph Lundgren on her wall.
Also, I have not had a stereo since 2004.
Also, I do not have a naval tattoo.
And finally, in what seems like the clincher here, this girl has a different face than my face. Case closed.
Now that I’ve pointed all this out I bet it seems fairly obvious that the girl in the video is, in fact, not me. At least about as obvious as it did before I pointed all this stuff out. Still, I have to give my dad credit because his misconception pales in comparison to when my stepmother asked if the brown-skinned girl sitting atop the passenger side window of a tilted car in the middle of the Saudi Arabian desert was me. I shit you not.
So dad and Joanne, I love you both but for everyone’s sake let’s just do a little excersize. This is a picture posted on my website, but it is not me:
In this picture neither the unicorn, nor the invisible leprechaun are me:
This is a video of a man doing the whooty dance, yet he is not me. Although now there are two boys I know of who can do this better than I can. Awesome for my self-esteem.
I wish this was me, but alas, it is not me:
This is me: