So I asked my coworker Kevin how his Father's Day went and he just started on this rant about how it's a load of bullshit.
Something about how Moms get all the praise and credit on Mother's Day, and Dads just get stupid-ass gift cards to home improvement warehouses, forcing them to do more labor for their "Ol' Ladies" and ungrateful little shit kids.
Something about how Moms get all the praise and credit on Mother's Day, and Dads just get stupid-ass gift cards to home improvement warehouses, forcing them to do more labor for their "Ol' Ladies" and ungrateful little shit kids.
He went on about how his daughter bought him a grill on Father's Day only to have him grill his own fucken hamburger.
I admit. I was laughing like crazy...on the inside.
Then he pulled a fast one on me asking how mine went. I told him I hadn't suffered the life-threatening or bank-breaking condition known as "children".
He tells me I'm smart for that and recommends I stay single for the rest of my life and masturbate vigorously (His words) when I get lonely. Then he changes gears and asks me what I did for my dad...
I was reminded in a flash of how I'm a small part of the increasing statistic of bastard kids in this world. Simply a byproduct of love gone astray. Which is funny because I usually play the tiny violin for myself whenever I think about this stuff.
As to not make Kevin look like an asshole, I lied.
"I bought him a card that sings 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' and reads: Happy Father's Day to my number 1 dog...and a gift card for Home Depot" I replied.
He laughs, accomplishing my life mission of brightening peoples' days in the smallest of ways.
I assured him that I cooked all the fucken hamburgers this time. Though he'll never have to know that all I did was drive to Georgetown and get plastered with all the white kids...who probably all have fathers.
Probably.
There was no card or gift certificate to the Home Depot...or any fucken hamburgers.
Just drunk college kids, a sky bar, humongous black bouncers, an unusual amount of dudes wearing tight pants, and a few hookers walking the streets offering 50 dollar blowjobs among other things.
No Father, no dad, no pops....no worries.
So, this is to you dad. Thank you for teaching me how to enjoy and appreciate life by not teaching me anything at all.
I hope you're doing great.
Fucker.
As to not make Kevin look like an asshole, I lied.
"I bought him a card that sings 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' and reads: Happy Father's Day to my number 1 dog...and a gift card for Home Depot" I replied.
He laughs, accomplishing my life mission of brightening peoples' days in the smallest of ways.
I assured him that I cooked all the fucken hamburgers this time. Though he'll never have to know that all I did was drive to Georgetown and get plastered with all the white kids...who probably all have fathers.
Probably.
There was no card or gift certificate to the Home Depot...or any fucken hamburgers.
Just drunk college kids, a sky bar, humongous black bouncers, an unusual amount of dudes wearing tight pants, and a few hookers walking the streets offering 50 dollar blowjobs among other things.
No Father, no dad, no pops....no worries.
So, this is to you dad. Thank you for teaching me how to enjoy and appreciate life by not teaching me anything at all.
I hope you're doing great.
Fucker.
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