Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Stop it Dad, You're Embarrassing Me: By Ivanka Trump


Okay. The jig is up. Please stop. Please just stop it, because you are really and truly, seriously and TOTALLY embarrassing me.

Up until now, I've been circling the wagons private jets, trying to present a unified Trump family front and support you on your mercurial quest to win the Guinness world record in disingenuous, narcissistic self-promotion for a job you don't even really want, and that no sane person even really wants you to have. 

But the time has come for you to just stop it dad, because it's getting to the point where you're just really, really fucking embarrassing.

It's mortifying. The hair alone. I can't EVEN with that hair. I mean, I feel like we've talked about this. And the spray tan? Ugh! You look like a roasted cantaloupe that one of my kids scribbled on with a Burnt Sienna Crayola crayon! How can someone with as much money as you manage to look this bad?

If I were 14, I'd make the limo drop me off at the mall three blocks away. I'd slam the door to my mansion bedroom until it fell off the hinges. I'd roll my eyes as far back in my head as they could go, cover my face with my hands, and mutter "OMG, Dad, staaahhhhp you are like, soooooooooooo totally embarrassing" under my breath. Then I'd turn bright red and pray for a sinkhole to open up on the 15th hole of the golf course at Mar-a-Lago and hope to just fall right through it.

But I'm a grown-ass woman with my own family, and I've made you a grandpa several times over. And still. You are soooooooooooooooooo embarrassing.

That NYT story interviewing dozens of women you leered at like a slimy, skirt-chasing, lecherous creeper? When you made them put on bikinis, suggested they give you blow jobs, graded them on a scale of one to ten, and pretended to be your own publicist? But the final straw, really, was that time you said you would date ME if I weren't your daughter. And then I was forced to defend you in the media as--and I quote--"not a groper."

Seriously, dad?! EWWW!! GROSS!!

And Twitter. Dad. The TWITTER. Yesterday mom literally snail-mailed me a clipping from a newspaper article about keeping your kids safe online. Putting aside the hilarious irony of that, I feel like she actually should have sent it to you. 

And don't even get me started on the infamous "taco bowl tweet." Dads. Should. Not. Tweet. Full stop.

I love you dad, but this has gone far enough, seriously. Just stop it. I can't even be seen in public with you anymore. Please, please, PLEASE just stop it. Your'e embarrassing me.



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