Picture this: Ryan O’Neal is at Farrah Fawcett’s funeral, scoping out the situation and seeing what’s sexy, when a woman comes up to hug him. Ryan immediately turns to her and says, “Hey, sweet cheeks. Who’s your daddy?” And the woman responds, “You are. No, seriously, you are. Like seriously. You’re my father.” This is basically the story Ryan O’Neal told Vanity Fair in their newest issue. Yes, because hitting on a piece at the “love of your life’s” funeral isn’t skeezy enough, Ryan had to hit on his own daughter and tell the public-at-large about it. While Papa Joe nods in approval and gives a peens up to Ryan, the rest of us are shaking our heads to keep the dry heaves from becoming wet.
Ryan told Vanity Fair (via HuffPo), “I had just put the casket in the hearse and I was watching it drive away when a beautiful blonde woman comes up and embraces me. I said to her, ‘You have a drink on you? You have a car?’ She said, ‘Daddy, it’s me–Tatum!’ I was just trying to be funny with a strange Swedish woman, and it’s my daughter. It’s so sick.”
Ryan O’Neal touched me inappropriately with that quote. Seriously, you know that “This is your brain on drugs” PSA? They can redo that shit and use a picture of Ryan instead of a pan filled with fried eggs. Ryan O’Neal is fried eggs. I mean, if you can’t even recognize your own daughter, it’s time to pull the sheets over your head and take a nap. Your booze and bad stuff privileges have been temporarily revoked!
When Vanity Fair asked Tatum about it, she sighed, “That’s our relationship in a nutshell. You make of it what you will. It had been a few years since we’d seen each other, and he was always a ladies’ man, a bon vivant.”