Sunday, July 20, 2008

I accept my assimilation

Like some strung-out crack addict I’ve been in denial for years. Today, I accept my fate.

“Hi, my name is Dad-TheDude and I’ve become my dad.”

Now that that’s done, allow me to explain.

I believe this transformation to be environmentally induced – after years of hearing the following:

1) Damn, whoever designed this dumbass thing was an idiot. All they had to do was flip this over to here, put a strap over that and bolt through that hole. But no, they had to produce the cheapest piece of crap they could. Damn it to hell, I hate (insert brand name here).

2) One day, I’m going to use that.

3) Where the hell are my tools? I bet you damn kids left them somewhere again.

4) That’s it; we are cleaning out the garage – TODAY! Where is your brother?

5) I’m not calling “the guy”, I can do this. (Usually followed by 3 additional attempts and 4 choruses of number 1 above)

6) They were on sale; I saved $30 on those 300 packages of hot dogs. Now eat your damn weenie stew or… honey, look what your kids are doing.

7) Damn political bullshit – that’s why this country is going to hell.

8) I don’t need a recipe; get out of the kitchen…. I’m making eggplant spaghetti and you kids are going to eat it.

9) Credit cards are a damn government conspiracy to control the population.

10) I can make the same thing for half that price (see number 2).

Somehow, maybe through osmosis, this dribble has come into contact with my brain and slowly altered it.

Case in point:

Over the past couple of days I’ve been working on my mower (see “I got snake bait”). Today, after many valiant attempts and a few series of “who designed this stupid thing” and “where the hell are my tools” and “I can do this” and “see, that’s all it needed – DAMN… ok, I think I got it now - DAMN” – I finally got the kitchen pass I was looking for when my wife said to me those magic words:

“Well, how much is a new mower…”

Finer words have never been spoken. However, that is when the altered part of my brain kicked in again. In order to accomplish the act of buying a new mower I had to accept the fact that indeed, the mower I had was built by stupid-ass monkeys and I did not have the aptitude to correct their faulty engineering work. I also had to come to terms with the price of a new mower and the possibility that I was rewarding the mower industry for continuing to build piece-of-shit mowers.

That’s when it hit me. It was time to come to terms with the fact that indeed the transformation was complete. My brain has been saturated and morphed.

I had only one small act of rebellion left. Instead of keeping the old mower “for parts” and “I’ll use this someday” – Which my brain was screaming at me to do - I put it on the curb with a “FREE” sign on it.

Take that dad brain!

In the time it took to write this post someone has already picked up the mower from the curb. Thank god because I was seriously about to run out there and pull it back into the garage.
Time for a beer - cheers!

I need another beer, my brain is still screaming at me. I could have made a go cart with the engine or something. AGGHHHH. I need help. Maybe there's a group I could join.
In case you happen to see the story about the idiot that shot his lawn mower with a shotgun, this wasn't me. I would have used something more practical like an antitank weapon.


tootsie said...

I think you found your true calling, Macy. I never could finish eating my dinner when we were little 'cause you always made me laugh too hard at the dinner table. And mom thought I was anorexic. I kept trying to tell her it was your fault. You're too funny, Macy. Too funny.

dadthedude said...

Hey, thats my litle sis.. and no.. she didn't make up the "Tootsie" part. Apparently I'm responsible for that (sorry Toots, but just think, it could have been bugger :)

Mind you - this is the same sister who stuck a fork in my arm at the dinner table for eating off her plate. She's trying to shift the blame to me for her eating habits when we all know it was dad's latest eggplant creation.

Love ya Toots! Thanks for the comment. I wont tell mom and dad how you wrecked moms car.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for the mower....kidding, already have 2 to keep running with plenty of similar stories from hubby. Better than fixing stuff with duct tape and bailing wire. That would be my dad and he was a retired electronics technician for the FAA.....hmmm. Mom fears her house is booby-trapped and claims dad's ghost continues to visit with the duct tape and bailing wire.

BacktoBarnwell said...

This is hilariously just like my dad...I think in another life he should have been an engineer, because we keep everything for parts, even a camry that i wrecked 3 years ago, b/c my brother has a camry. It sits in the woods behind our house out of sight, per moms instructions.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for the tears from laughing at your stories. Love the butt paste story. When we first moved here I saw the stuff and had to buy a tube and send to a friend out west. As has been said before you can't make this stuff up...Keep up the antics.

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