Sh*t my dad says

I just finished reading this book ‘Sh*t My Dad Says’; it was hilarious, but also made me think I should write a similar book about things my mom says. I’ll be keeping a going record of things, but I’ve missed out on a bunch that I forgot she said when I was young.

Here’s some highlights from the book:

“All I ask is that you pick up your shit so you don’t leave your bedroom looking like it was used for a gang bang. Also, sorry that your girlfriend dumped you.”

On toilet training: “You are four years old. You have to shit in the toilet. This is not one of those negotiations where we’ll go back and forth and find a middle ground. This ends with you shitting in a toilet.”

On my first day of kindergarten: “You thought it was hard? If kindergarten is busting your ass, I got some bad news for you about the rest of life.”

On accidents: “I don’t give a shit how it happened, the window is broken…Wait, why is there syrup everywhere? Okay, you know what? Now I give a shit how it happened. Let’s hear it.”

On candy: “Jesus Christ, one fucking Snickers bar, and you’re running around like your asshole is on fire. Okay, outside you go. Don’t come back until you’re ready to sleep or shit.”

On making a Christmas list: “You ranked the twenty-five presents you want, in order of how much you want them? Are you insane? I said tell me what you want for Christmas, not make a fucking college football poll.”

On Packing my own lunch: “You have to pack a sandwich. It can’t just be cookies and bullshit…No, I said if you packed it yourself, you could pack it how you want it, not pack it like a moron.”

On my sixth grade parent teacher conference: “I don’t think that teacher likes you, so I don’t like her. You ding off more shit than a pinball, but goddamn it, you’re a good kid. She can go fuck herself.”

On my first school dance: “Are you wearing perfume?…Son, there ain’t any cologne in this house, only your mother’s perfume. I know that scent, and let me tell you, it’s disturbing to smell your wife on your thirteen year old son.”

On respecting privacy: “Get the fuck outta here, I’m doing stuff.”

On leaving my toys around the house: “Goddamn it, I just sat on your goddamned truck guy…Optimus Prime? I don’t give a shit what it’s called, keep it away from where I like to put my ass.”

On silence: “I just want silence…Jesus, it doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It just means right now, I like silence more.”

On Bob Saget’s demeanor while hosting America’s Funniest Videos: “Remember that face. That’s the face of a man who hates himself.”
On the varsity baseball end of the year fundraiser: “Just tell me how much money I have to give you to never leave this couch.”

On getting a job as a cook at Hooters: “You, my good man, are not as dumb as I first fucking suspected.”

On taking my first girlfriend to Las Vegas: “Vegas? I don’t get it, neither of you are old enough to gamble. You’re not old enough to drink. The only thing you’re old enough to do is rent a hotel and-ah, I gotcha. That’s smart.”

On deciding to use his senior discount for the first time: “Fuck it, I’m old. Gimme free stuff.”

On whether to vote for George W Bush or Al Gore: “Gore seems kind of like a pompous prick, but every time I see Bush I feel like he’s probably shit his pants in the last year, and it’s something he worries about.”

On managing one’s bank account: “Don’t get mad at the overdraft charge…No, no-see, there’s your problem. You think of it as a penalty for taking out money you don’t have, but instead, it might help you to think of it as a reminder that you’re a dumb shit.”

On built up expectations: “Your brother brought his baby over this morning. He told me it could stand. It couldn’t stand for shit. Just sat there. Big letdown.”

On longwinded anecdotes: “You’re like a tornado of bullshit right now. We’ll talk again when your bullshit dies out over someone else’s house.”

On my brother’s baby being a little slow to start speaking: “The baby will talk when he talks, relax. It ain’t like he knows the cure for cancer and just ain’t spitting it out.”

~ by accordingtoleanne on October 11, 2010.

2 Responses to “Sh*t my dad says”

  1. LMAO. I gotta read that book.

  2. disturbingly sounds like my dad, maybe that is why i am the way i am…

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