Sunday, November 6, 2011

my dad is going to kill me.

My poor, sweet father shares a Netflix account with me.
And if he logged on today, this is what he surely saw:

I'm screwing up the recommendations Netflix gives him, big time.
I'll never forget the time he called me to complain about it:
"Abbi, Netflix would like to offer me suggestions about what to watch that is similar to Hannah Montana, season 3. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

And this weekend, my roommates and I had a much deserved girl's night, which actually just turned into girl's weekend.
(We just finished Bride Wars, up next is The Holiday.)
So we watched a lot of things that are not exactly Dad material.

I'm expecting a call any minute now:
"Abbi, why are Tangled and Jesus Christ Superstar now in our instant queue?"

Those folks over at Netflix are going to think my dad is gay.


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