Around age 14, I discovered my Dad's stash of adult magazines hidden in his closet. I'd wait until he and Mom went to the store, to visit a friend or whatever (it didn't matter where they went, as a drive to anywhere was at least a 30 minute trip) and sneak into their room, find the Club and Hustler magazines and [ahem] read them.
I read 'em real good.
He suspected, I think, but he never knew for sure.
I don't have a lot in common with my dad. He is nearly bald, and I have hair. Lots and lots of hair. We don't share the same beliefs about life, and we have different views on religion. Dad still counts himself a Bush supporter, even though it's not trendy to be so. Given his druthers my old man would stay at home all the time, and avoid interacting with other people. Dad needs the fewest people in his life than anyone I've ever known.
But I have one thing in common with my Dad, who turns 66 years old today: we both love us some porn!
Happy birthday, Dad. My gift this year is some sound advice: Remember, if the erection lasts for more than four hours, please call the doctor!
UPDATE: Because my Mom emailed me this morning, horrified and defensive after reading my blog, and because Mrs. Film Geek didn't get the joke either, I wanna add this update:
Balls-busting is a guys way of saying "I love you."
Lighten up. Jeeze...