Nothing could capture my childhood and relationship with my father more perfectly than this.

Labels: childhood, dad

As my Dad used say when I over celebrated any minor sporting success, "Act like you have been there before." I think these words of wisdom definitely apply to this situation. A good rule of thumb at a strip club:

Strip clubs have two rules. Do not touch the dancers, and when "Cherry Pie" fades out and "Pour Some Sugar On Me" starts up, your lap dance is over.

Labels: dad, strippers, tomfoolery

Kids are such pussies nowadays. All I know is if I would have seen a severed arm in the fifth grade, it would have changed my life.

Dad: We bought you a new bike. One of those BMX jobs with the cool racing checkerboard frame guards and back wheel pegs.
Me: Cool. Can I get a severed arm with it, too?
Dad: Only if you fuck around and ride it like a jackass.

Labels: childhood, dad, tomfoolery

Until this link, I thought my dad had the coolest facial hair in the world when he sported thick mutton chops and a mustache that rivaled Magnum P.I.'s in the early eighties.

Labels: dad, pop culture, tomfoolery

"When you are using a paint gun, be sure to wear safety goggles. You do not want to get paint in your eyes."

Labels: dad, diy, the fairways

My Dad is not a phone person. Our conversations usually consist of idle chit-chat related to sports and television shows, long periods of silence and concluding with or a paraphrase of the line, "Here is your Mother." Last night we had a conversation that went something like this:

Dad: What are you doing?
Me: Watching TV.
Dad: What are you watching?
Me: Nothing. I am just flipping through the channels.
Dad: I am watching TV, too. There is nothing on.

...30 seconds of silence...

Dad: Total Recall is on.
Me: Nice. What channel?
Dad: The Spanish channel.
Me: Are you going to watch it? (Dad does not speak a word of Spanish).
Dad: Yeah, I guess. There is nothing else on ...pauses... I will have your mom call you when she gets home.

Labels: dad, pop culture

For the Easter holiday my family convened at my aunt and uncles to dine on some cooked pig, play board games where the end result is global domination and hear my dad tell my brother-in-law to bite his ball sack at the dinner table. Speaking of pigs, my coworker is giving me a few pounds of fresh Polish sausage that her parents are sending her from Chicago. Her and her husband do not dig on the swine so they are giving it to me. I may boil that shit up and slap it on a bun with some sauerkraut and mustard. I may cut it up and throw it in with my scrambled eggs. I may even attempt to flatten it out into strips and fry it. Mmmmmm. Bacon Polish sausage.

Labels: bacon, bro-in-law, dad, data slaughterhouse, easter, family