In Which We Admit to Some Pretty Serious Daddy Issues...

So, you know those really bad ass, sexy, crazy hot, borderline misogynistic guys that everyone loves to read about in YA? Yeah, we suck at writing those guys.

I have no idea why we suck at writing them because we grew up swooning over those dudes just like everyone else. Let's face it there's absolutely no way 16-year-old Lisa would have been playing for Team Jacob, that hormone addled teenager would have been Team Edward all. the. way. Because really, who doesn't love smexy, manic depressive vampires who watch you sleep and kill other vampires just because they think you smell like food?

But adult Lisa married the nice guy and wants to take Bella out for a latte and beg her to choose the gorgeous werewolf who will be a true life partner. Because if there's anything that resonates with teenage girls it's the term "life partner."

Lisa wishes she had a Team Edward shirt to offset her wicked brows.

As much as we suck at hot, dangerous, guys, we rock the quirky nerdy types.  And it just recently occurred to me why we gravitate towards these types of characters. Two words: Mike Roecker.

It takes a pretty amazing guy to raise three girls and my dad is beyond amazing and full of random.

I have never, ever screened a call from my dad because you know when he's calling it's going to be something completely off the wall. Whether it's a quick tip about Maroon Five being the next big band (in January 2011, approximately 5 years after their first hit) or a detailed analysis of the lack of patriotism in America based on the Stanley Cup Finals, you don't want to miss that call.

Real men wear jams

Growing up with my Dad was always an adventure. He took us exploring on the railroad tracks behind our house Stand By Me style and once famously forced our 5-year-old sister to take a dump on the tracks instead of walking 10 minutes back to our house. That's just how he rolls.

He's seen Celine Dion live several times without my mom (she hates Celine) and loves Star Wars and watched the entire season of My So-Called Life with us when we were in high school. If you ask him a question about a car you'll inevitably get a 30 minute answer. He used to cut the crusts off our sandwiches in our lunch boxes and write notes signed Mr. Wonderful just to humiliate us. He took approximately a million photographs and hours of video footage of us growing up giving us ample fodder for humiliating blog posts. He built us a playground, made us cry when he told us we were taking a detour to "Hardware Heaven" on the way home from school and was the best person to go grocery shopping with because he let you buy whatever you wanted. Even if it wasn't on sale.

Mike Roecker: Runner up in a local Max Headroom look alike contest.

My dad was also the person who taught me how to read and let me tell him the entire plot of whatever lame-ass book I was reading at the moment when I was in middle school. In retrospect, I bet he encouraged me to start reading Stephen King just so he could escape the drama of the Wakefield twins.






So, thanks Dad. Thanks for being random. Thanks for teaching us to love books. Thanks for telling us we could do anything and be anyone. And thanks for inspiring all of our quirky male characters. Happy Birthday! We love you!!!

XOXO,
L&L(&S)