+ remind me again?

Allo. 
Now I'm in year twelve, senior year, the finale, I should probably cut down on blogging, but let me just fit in a quickie. 


My father, is the centre of our families humour. It's quite wonderful and I suppose we, himself included, enjoy mocking his touch of asia. But it just adds another dimension to our love.


My Dad's life is ridiculously busy. He is indeed a doctor and because I'm not overly involved in my fathers life, I assume he spends the majority of this time with living patients, either that or he's a spy, which would be hell cool. But it's because of this preoccupation that everyone around him has discovered the necessity of reminding him to do things.
However as we encounter the situation and finally ask him the deadly deed (don't worry I'm not implying that we've requested death upon another being), he replies with "remind me later". Understanding the hussle and bussle of his life we accept this rejection and remind ourselves to remind him later.
But as we again make the movement to remind him, he requests that we remind him at a later time, precisely six lets say for the sake of example.
So the situation has already escalated from asking him to simply pick up milk on his way home from work, to reminding him to pick up milk later, to reminding him to pick up milk at six o clock. 
So as instructed, we sit impatiently, lingering for the deadly sixth hour pass noon to arrive and not a second later we ring my father to remind him to retrieve the milk for the third time. 
Where, he, replies: "remind me when I'm at the supermarket". Now it's just ludicrous. 
How are we meant to possibly predict his arrival at the exceptionally-good-market in time to contact him to remind him for now the fifth time to purchase milk!? Unless we attach some homing beacon onto his belt, alongside his pager, iPod, phone, bluetooth headset receptor and palm pilot and somehow set an alarm to send us at home a signal when he waltzes across the target coordinates. That actually sounds more feasible and practical. 


Which brings me to my new pet hate. 
Don't remind me later.
I'm reminding you now. 
Conceal this moment in your smudge of a mind and use that last micro-ounce of brainpower you reserved for hitting the A&B buttons on your gameboy to recall a small request - pick up milk.
Write it on your hand if you must. But I'm sure I could remind a small primitive monkey to fetch up milk, and  not only would it venture into the supermarket and retrieve some, but it would present me with a variety, including that of the delicious and innovative invention of the infusion of chocolate and milk, and possibly a wise non-fattening choice of cookies to compliment (although now pondering on the non-fat cookies, I realised thats actually quite an oxymoron and now am reasonably depressed). Yes. So perhaps this afternoon I'll zip down to the local Zoo or animal shelter with a balaclava in one hand, and a heshen* (spelling is inaccurate I apologise) bag in the other, forget about milk, I'm picking meself up a funny little monkey. 


If you desire milk in the next week, I strongly suggest you do the same.
Perhaps the Zoo has a bulk order offer.


Stay Tuned.
life's narcissistic narrator.
+ the red fox.


-OVER AND OUT-