“But I don’t WANT breakfast in bed! I HATE breakfast in bed!”
Yeah…you know the Looney Tunes 'toon I’m referring to. Classic. Not a man in my family that doesn’t pass out laughing at the sick reflection of themselves in that 'toon.
The current complaint involves dinner not breakfast. I’m somehow expected to want to go out for dinner. I’m not an eat-out person. I want BBQed burgers. And since I’m the only one who knows the trick of cooking over fire, I’m going to do it myself. They all somehow think that’s wrong.
And let me guess: you love to do it, and the coolest thing they could do for you would be to supply you with the materials for a first-rate cookout, right?
See? This is the screwed up thing about this day. It’s concocted by wimmin. Wimmin who simply don’t get the male mind. Mother’s day? No sweat. Treat her like a queen and let her babies show her how much they love her. It’s all puffy and pinkwomansmelling and she’s in heaven. Daddy? Me anyway? I loves my kids. And I really don’t think I can get another Crayola self-portrait of my darlings having some fun with dad under an apple tree, at the fishin’ hole or whatever…without. coming. unhinged.
Want to do Dad a favor on Father’s day? Move it to Saturday, stuff $100 in his pocket and send him to the brewpub with others of his brothers-in-arms! Let him be the guy he was, just for a few hours. Before you knew him. Before he looked in the mirror and saw a wretched shadow of his former glory approaching middle age at the speed of light…
I’m such a selfish so and so. I’d love to see my Dad for Fathers Day, but I can’t. He passed on, and his ashes are held hostage at the house of a sister that I don’t get along with. BTW, his express wishes were ‘scatter my ashes’, but [dramaqueen]she couldn’t bear to be w/o him[/dramaqueen].
If I’m really lucky, I might be able to coax her into burrying them one day. I’ll just need to chug a gallon of Mallox first. :rolleyes:
Hmmmmmmm… Do you think you could get hold of an urn identical to the one that holds your father’s ashes? Fill it with, say, ashes from a fireplace. Wangle an invitation to Evil Drama Queen Sister’s home. Smuggle the pseudo-urn in and, when the opportunity presents itself, switch 'em! Then you can take Dad and scatter him someplace where he loved to be, and EDQS will never be the wiser.
I hope I’m remembering this correctly, but isn’t this the one where, very early in the cartoon as the camera is panning through the bears’ residence, on the floor next to the bed there’s a small book, and the title of this book is “Kinsey Report”?
I’ll have to watch it again for that, too. But I’ve been to a website (no idea which one) that showed all manner of stuff you didn’t know was in WB cartoons. In either this cartoon or the other like it, they’re around the kitchen table, and the picture on the calendar on the wall is of a sexy bathing-suited woman.
I hope you realize that it’s not merely the fact that women don’t “get” men (which is a weird idea anyway, since men are individuals) that makes this gift idea a little shaky, right? I mean, do you really expect that the sentiment of “Kids, the best gift you could give me is to allow me to pretend for a day that you don’t exist” is going to ride well with most children? (Not that this isn’t a good present – I’m not a dad (or, as would be more likely, a mom), but I love a good hang-out at the local tavern from time to time myself – but I know I would feel very sad and terrible if my dad thought it would be a good present to act like he was young and I didn’t exist. It would make me feel like I ruined his life or something.)
All that aside, my dad wouldn’t be crazy about the whole “treat him like a prince all day” thing either, so I try to get him presents related to the hobbies he enjoys. For instance, this year, I got him a couple of books about attractions off the beaten path in our general region (New England) so that he can come up with new and interesting places to take rides to with my mom on his brand new motorcycle (and maybe some rides with me, too…he loves to take anyone who wants to go, and I can’t blame him, because that bike is SWEET :))
(Inigo, I hope none of the above comments are offensive to you…I’m really not trying to pick a fight or anything…:))
I just read your reply. You had me in stitches at first…and then I realized that the local funeral home probably does sell empty urns…that my fireplace burns wood (and has a chute where we shovel ashes into that needs to be emptied out). Cripes, I’m starting to hear Mission Impossible theme music…!
Yes, my father’s being held as a P.O.B. and he’s counting on Me to save him…
In Mpls. with the 'rents yesterday. Treated Papa Doug to $300 worth of deeply discounted, tax-free sportswear from the soon-to-be-assimilated Marshall Field’s. The old duds will be cut up for his scrapbook of cherished food stains.
This urn will self-destruct in ten seconds. beep…beep…FWOOMP!
My dad is the selfless type, and quite hard to shop for. But he loved the pack of quality golf balls I gave him (especially since he usually just plays with shags). And with how often he gets out to play, they’ll last the good part of a decade.