Played-Out Fake-Ass “Sentiment”


Is it me? Am I the one doing everything wrong?

Am I like the only parent left in my socio-demographic/socioeconomic peer group who doesn’t become a sopping paper bag of dogshit every time someone mentions a child’s goddamn age? You know what I mean, the whole “oh, he’s already seven!” and “…it seems the last time I looked a her she was a baby and now she’s ten!” and the “time goes too quickly now” bullshit. Time goes the same as it always has. Your relationship with time may be fucked but don’t to reinventing physics like a Teabagging patriot, mofo. You’re no Einstein, believe me.

As the socialist, Muslim president would say, “let me be clear here”: I am not talking about all of you. Quit taking offense at shit I’m not even saying about you and pay attention to what I am saying about 99% of you. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

My Dad Homies advice tidbit #1: Pay more goddamn attention to your children and you won’t be so astonished that they grew older right before your eyes and under your nose or whatevs.  Shut up with your fake-ass sentiment, will ‘ya? Go throw a ball or go for a bike ride or do some homework with your kid and you will experience all the subtle nuances. Ask your children questions and you may learn something about them.

My Dad Homies advice tidbit #2: Get your stupid face out of the Blackberry iPhone Android for a minute and you may notice that you have made some babies who are looking at you and waiting for you to pay the fuck attention. It’s like you don’t even know your own progeny. Quit surfing the retarded Facebook trying to prevent your lousy youth from slipping away by finding people you had crushes on in high school. You’re worse than any crack addict and you know it. Grow the fuck up!

If you paid any attention to your children, you’ll be ready at some point–if you’re doing your job right and well–to send your badass kid into the world without all your played-out issues weighing them down like a Catholic-Jew sandbag. They are supposed to be smarter, quicker, more aware than you ever were. Quit micro-managing your children like they work at your lousy office and start preparing them to deal with a world full of mopes raised by mopes.

“Whaaaa! She’s already nine!” Yeah, I know she’s already nine because I’ve been there for each of the 3,300 or so days she’s been alive. I’ve taken her to the ER. I’ve watched them set her broken arm. I help her understand the beauty of algebra. I taught her how to cast a fishing rod and throw a spiral. I taught her that there is no Santa, no god, and no such thing as a limitation to what she can do if she wants to do it. I’m her dad, homie. I represent.

[Even though I say shit like “I can’t wait for her to go to college so I can move my wife to NY,” I’m pretty sure that I will “become a sopping paper bag of dogshit” once she heads out of my household. But at least I’ll know that she knows how to throw a punch, put air in a tire, and use a knife.  I’ll “become a sopping paper bag of dogshit” for all the right reasons.  Not because I forgot I my parental job description and suddenly my kid was 11 and I didn’t notice.]

STFU with the issues coming out of your fake ass mouth as nostalgia just because you failed to notice that you have children and can’t stop tweeting.

NEXT UP: Play dates


6 Responses to “Played-Out Fake-Ass “Sentiment””

  1. Internet Widow Says:

    Well done. Thank you.

    Is it OK if I start writing my “Play dates” comments already?

  2. Ty Hardaway Says:

    ^^^Comments? Write the column if you want.

  3. Craig Says:

    Excellent advice, and I agree 100%.

    But, wait, teaching her NOT to believe in Santa??? I’m not ironically taunting you, I’m just curious in the benefit of that.

  4. Ty Hardaway Says:

    @Craig: I get the cockeyed looks vis-a-vis the Santa thing all the time. But my philosophy is that I don’t want my kid’s earliest memorable interactions based on flat out lies.

    Someday I’ll wake up in hell all going, “Oh shit, this shit was true!”


  5. Chris Says:

    I always feel awky when people are like “it all goes by so fast” too. If you wake up and your kids ten and you are like “what just happened” you musta been a real tool for the last decade.

    I hang out with my son so much I’m like dude I can’t wait for you to go to sleep tonight. Like we just cruise up to the school and I shoot hoops and he rides his scooter and we don’t even talk to each other for like two hours. He is only 4 but I feel like it’s been 40 years. I can’t wait for this guy to grow up and get outta my house. (just kidding)

    I think the “it goes by so fast” shit is for soccer mums and old people. gross.

    ps. hi from New Zealand.

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