A Quote by Maria Bamford

My dad has some depressive issues, and he's really tough on himself. So sometimes he can say things that are not super supportive. Like once I did a set, and he says, 'Sheesh, no wonder you're still single.' I was like, 'Eight ball, corner pocket, dad.'
The master says it's a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it's a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there's anyone in the world who would like us to live. My brothers are dead and my sister is dead and I wonder if they died for Ireland or for the Faith. Dad says they were too young to die for anything. Mam says it was disease and starvation and him never having a job. Dad says, Och, Angela, puts on his cap, and goes for a long walk.
When I was seven or eight, I got a trampoline. My dad used to say to me all the time, 'Come on with the head,' and then pass the ball to me as I jumped. I really think it's helped my heading game because I practiced this all the time with my dad.
I'd clash with my dad over other things, you know, like difference of opinion and me getting testosterone, you know what I'm saying? Me feeling like I'm a little tough, being a teenager. But my big brother would come in drunk and really, really try my dad and I didn't want to do that.
I didn't have a dad around to pick me up when I fell, throw the ball to me outside. I always wonder how it would be if I did have a dad there.
My dad is a really cool guy, but he showed me 'The Shining,' and I was like, 'Hey, dad. I'm thirsty. Let's go get a Coke.' So we went to the vending machine, and he hid... and I turned back, and I was like, 'Dad? Dad?' And the elevator scene came to my mind.
It was tough at the time but when I was younger, my Dad. I would say my Dad, because without him I wouldn't have been here. I mean it was tough for me because he was really demanding. With him, it was never enough, you know, anything I did was never enough.
My dad is from Ironwood and the last time I was in Marquette was in 1995 when my dad was still alive. Dad would have loved this. Even though my family is long gone from this area it still feels like home.
My dad never quit no matter what. He couldn't see, but he never let that stop him. Most people, when something like that happens, they just think their life is over. But that's not true. My dad can still do things like a normal person. He still cooks; he still watches my sister and my brother's baby when my mom's not home.
I like Daniel. He takes care of you." I blinked. "Oh my God. Did you really just say that? He takes care of me?" Dad flushed. "I didn't mean it like-" "Takes care of me? Did I go to sleep and wake up in the nineteenth century?" I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt. "Ack! I can't go to school like this. Where's my corset? My bonnet?" Dad sighed as Mom walked in with her empty teacup. "What did I miss?" She said. "Dad's trying to marry me off to Daniel." I looked at him. "You know, if you offer him a new truck for a dowry, he might go for it.
I always practice, even on the cat tracks or in those interstitial periods. My dad says, 'Even when you're just stopping, be sure to do it right, maintaining a good position, with counter-rotational force.' These are the kinds of things my dad says, and I'm like, 'Shut up.'
The greatest thing I could say about my son, and this is what you always worry about with your kids, that they kinda outgrow their Mom and Dad. But for him, when I see him, when he calls me Dad, and he can still hug me, he's still like my little boy. Even around his friends, he still calls me Dad.
While there are so many great things in my life, you get older, and you have responsibilities. And things happen, like my dad dying - things that are tough to shake off. And there are things I'm still trying to figure out.
My dad still hasn't heard 'I Love My Dad,' and I'm sure he'll say something like, 'It's good, but I love your version of 'Little Drummer Boy'!' My dad loves my live albums - he's obsessed with the live version of 'Little Drummer Boy' for some reason.
Justin Halpern tosses lightning bolts of laughter out of his pocket like he is shooting dice in a back alley. In one sweep of a paragraph, he ranges from hysterical to disgusting to touching--and does it all seamlessly. Sh*t My Dad Says is a really, really funny book.
I was 12 or 13, and I had seen a demo about origami at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. My dad, my step-mom, and I were at the Japan pavilion of Epcot, and my dad was going to get me an origami book. They had these really sick origami books with an overleaf, but those packs can sometimes blow, because they give you, like, eight sheets.
Mom and Dad are truly my heroes. And I have to say, so is my little brother Robert. He's 11, and he's just the most amazing boy. He's so much like Dad sometimes, it's a bit scary.
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