Alternatively titled: “Why My Dad is Awesome”.

A few years ago I made a not so secret confession to a family friend: I am absolutely terrified of clowns. Not like “Haha. Clowns are creepy. Everyone thinks so.” Like I would CRY when I saw them as a child. Maybe I still do now. Shut up. They’re scary.

So this family friend thought it would be hilarious to purchase me a clown ornament for Christmas a few years back and wrap it up so I would never suspect the horror I was about to open.

Let’s just say I threw the box down and ran out of the room.

It soon became a tradition in the family grab to secretly re-gift this damn clown. THE HORROR. You never knew who was going to get it. It was like damn CLOWN ROULETTE.

*shudder*

Well cut to Saturday night. I got to my Dad’s for our weekly dinner. He was starting on cooking, and had set up our Christmas tree. He told me and my sister to decorate it while he cooked.

I walked over to the tree and screamed. The only ornament he had put up so far? THAT DAMN CLOWN.

Thanks Dad. My therapist will thank you for that extra appointment I had to make because of you.

Anyway, I of course took a picture to photo-text attack other family members with this horrific clown. (Aren’t we a delightful family?)

My Dad emailed the picture back to me yesterday with the following email:

“Jen, I hate to say this, but is this clown holding himself???? wtf?”

AMAZING right?

No what was amazing was that he put that same picture on his Facebook page with the following caption:

“There’s a sex offender on my Christmas Tree…”

And now, my friends, you can clearly see where my sense of humor comes from.