I wish Bob Ross was my dad.
I used to watch him paint when I was little and I always wanted to crawl into the TV and hug him. I watched him every day. I asked my parents for art books so I could learn how to paint like him. He was sort of a hero, actually.
He was always just like “maybe get a little crazy and put a tree here. Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine.”
My dad was always all “SIT DOWN AND EAT OR YOU’LL GET A SPANKING!” followed by “QUIT CRYING OR I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!” And then he’d smack us on the back of the head, or clap his hands really loud right in our faces, just to let us know he was THE MAN.
We got a lot of spankings and we did a lot of crying.
I bet Bob Ross would never make me eat meatloaf under threat of a spanking. He would probably leave his dinner to make me a grilled cheese sandwich like I wanted.
Also, Bob Ross had cool hair. My dad was bald.
PS: I need a topic for next week’s Toy With Me. Is there something totally gross you saw recently, or is there a story you want me to tell/re-tell? Maybe I’ll just tell the story about how I turn men gay. I’ve got three under my belt. I’m pretty proud of that. Email me!
PSS: This post was way emo-er than I planned. Sorry. I thought it was going to come out funny, but no. That’s okay though. Bob Ross still loves me, even when I suck a little bit.