Big weekend brewing my fellow chuckleheads…
It’s warming up over nearly the entire United States, and more importantly, it is Fathers’ Day weekend.
.jpg)
I love Father’s Day er…Fathers’ Day…er whatever, because it’s a day of celebration of revolving around legally challenged morons who try or have tried whatever needs to be done in order to keep the motherfucking peace within a familial situation.
Or?
Maybe that’s how I see it.…anyhow, this Sunday, June 17th, Father’s Day…
I will go over to my house that I used to own, get a gift from my son whom I love dearly, and towards his mother, beg as I will, to be allowed to have him travel out of city, and dare I say, overnight, with me next month to my niece’s wedding in Columbus.
You know what’s sad?
His mom, along with a sporty, overpriced, sleeveless T-shirt bought exclusively at Old Navy, will toss out the fact that if on the outside chance that I am permitted to take him to Columbus overnight, certain rules will need to apply.
And I’m sure that rule Number One will be…No Fun!! Nope, no fun…When said Dad has fun with Ryno it somehow diminishes her, said mother, as a person, and we just can’t have that.
Number Two…No drinking. It doesn’t matter if you have a hotel room three steps from the reception hall and won’t be driving, drinking implies that you might have fun, and ultimately will demonstrate to my son, that there is fun to be had out there in this world. He would find your, quasi-inebriated charm, vivaciousness, and kindness towards others, non-sequitur.
Number Three…At wedding receptions there tend to be women of loose values and low cut dresses. I know my son is an angel, yet he and his wings need not look upon temptation, so please let him not gaze upon any dirty pillows of the Whores of Babylon.
Number Four…The Chicken Dance is stupid as hell. There will be no Chicken Dancing. (Upon this one, I agree.)
Number Five…Have him call me every fifteen minutes, because I need to know that you haven’t sold him to Arab/Turkish Bazaar types who peddle and meddle in the boy flesh trade.
Number Six, and lastly….Don’t let him near any women. I know women. They will promise you the world.
Those bitches will make you think they are something they are not, and with a tongue kiss and obfuscation, vow to let you to continue to be yourself as you together, discover the world. They don’t mean it…It’s fucking lie.
Now to me…other than rule Number Six which ironically and causally, know all to well, those guidelines seem a bit confining, however…
As a man who has but fifty payments left on his tender, innocent, soon-to-be 18 year old son, I am looking forward to accepting these rules, as my son will as well once we get to the hotel next month, and then chuck them out the window.
Unless of course…she denies me the right to take our young (old enough to enlist in the Marines) son to Columbus for this spectacular family event altogether.
In that case, should it occur?
I will belittle her publicly to no end.
Some may call that childish. Some may call that harassment. Some call may call that stupid.
If that happens, I'll call it karma, and trust me, I’ll be getting my Hindu on all over this.
Cheers!!
Matt-Man
neshobadude@yahoo.com
@mattmaniws
It’s warming up over nearly the entire United States, and more importantly, it is Fathers’ Day weekend.
.jpg)
I love Father’s Day er…Fathers’ Day…er whatever, because it’s a day of celebration of revolving around legally challenged morons who try or have tried whatever needs to be done in order to keep the motherfucking peace within a familial situation.Or?
Maybe that’s how I see it.…anyhow, this Sunday, June 17th, Father’s Day…
I will go over to my house that I used to own, get a gift from my son whom I love dearly, and towards his mother, beg as I will, to be allowed to have him travel out of city, and dare I say, overnight, with me next month to my niece’s wedding in Columbus.
You know what’s sad?
His mom, along with a sporty, overpriced, sleeveless T-shirt bought exclusively at Old Navy, will toss out the fact that if on the outside chance that I am permitted to take him to Columbus overnight, certain rules will need to apply.
And I’m sure that rule Number One will be…No Fun!! Nope, no fun…When said Dad has fun with Ryno it somehow diminishes her, said mother, as a person, and we just can’t have that.
Number Two…No drinking. It doesn’t matter if you have a hotel room three steps from the reception hall and won’t be driving, drinking implies that you might have fun, and ultimately will demonstrate to my son, that there is fun to be had out there in this world. He would find your, quasi-inebriated charm, vivaciousness, and kindness towards others, non-sequitur.
Number Three…At wedding receptions there tend to be women of loose values and low cut dresses. I know my son is an angel, yet he and his wings need not look upon temptation, so please let him not gaze upon any dirty pillows of the Whores of Babylon.
Number Four…The Chicken Dance is stupid as hell. There will be no Chicken Dancing. (Upon this one, I agree.)
Number Five…Have him call me every fifteen minutes, because I need to know that you haven’t sold him to Arab/Turkish Bazaar types who peddle and meddle in the boy flesh trade.Number Six, and lastly….Don’t let him near any women. I know women. They will promise you the world.
Those bitches will make you think they are something they are not, and with a tongue kiss and obfuscation, vow to let you to continue to be yourself as you together, discover the world. They don’t mean it…It’s fucking lie.
Now to me…other than rule Number Six which ironically and causally, know all to well, those guidelines seem a bit confining, however…
As a man who has but fifty payments left on his tender, innocent, soon-to-be 18 year old son, I am looking forward to accepting these rules, as my son will as well once we get to the hotel next month, and then chuck them out the window.
Unless of course…she denies me the right to take our young (old enough to enlist in the Marines) son to Columbus for this spectacular family event altogether.
In that case, should it occur?
I will belittle her publicly to no end.
Some may call that childish. Some may call that harassment. Some call may call that stupid.
If that happens, I'll call it karma, and trust me, I’ll be getting my Hindu on all over this.
Cheers!!
Matt-Man
neshobadude@yahoo.com
@mattmaniws
No comments:
Post a Comment