Sh-t *My* Dad Says

So, if you haven’t already read it, go get Justin Halpern’s book, “Sh*t My Dad Says,” read it, and relate.  Or don’t relate.  But holy hell, I sure related.

Halpern’s schtick is this: he started a Twitter feed and then a website to share the never-ending string of colorful (read: offensive, fucked up, and generally unbelievable) things his dad has said to him over the years.  In the process, he gained a following.  ‘Cause let’s face it, other people’s eccentric and embarrassing parents are hi-larious.

My dad just read this book; my sister gave it to him for Christmas.  The irony of the gift was noted by all but him.  After all, tomes could be compiled based on the shit my dad says, though I’m not sure he realizes what comes out of his mouth or the impact it has. 

Halpern’s dad and my dad have their often inopportune outspokenness and love for their children in common, but they possess different life paths and personalities.  My dad, for instance, is pretty guileless in his blurtings.  I don’t think he’s ever intended anything by them, nor has he ever given them a second thought once they’ve passed his lips.  He’s just what some call a character, others a free spirit, and yet others a sonofabitch.

Regardless, my dad wants to meet Halpern’s dad; he sees him as some sort of irreverent, no bullshit hero.  I, on the other hand, want to meet Halpern.  I want to shake his hand, buy him a drink, and swap stories.  We have more in common than he knows: we’re the same age, we grew up in the same city, and the intro to his book tells a painfully familiar story.  The redux: failed relationship; home with the ‘rents (at an age no one wants to be living with the ‘rents); a father whose utterances seem to stem from a frontal lobe lesion.

For Halpern, the result is a flood of reportage on his dad’s quips, and it’s an impressively compiled and narrated book.  I mean, it’s not everyone who can look at the humor or wisdom in effectively being called a dumb shit most of his life.  Reading onto it from my perspective, I imagine that this project served a therapeutic purpose for him.  

In this therapeutic vein, I thought I’d compile a daughter’s perspective of some sh*t her dad says.  So here's a choice sampling to pay homage to Halpern and his endeavor. 

My dad, detecting my sister’s new perfume:

    “You smell like a goddamn pineapple.”

To me having a meltdown at seven years old:

     “Stop crying like that; you sound like a wildebeest.”

Without any particular segue, in front of a large group of strangers:

     “You know, I don’t know why you think you’re ugly and fat.  You’re not.”*

Upon describing how he taught a young coworker to do something:

     “You should have seen it.  He knew nothing, I taught him everything.  It was like Pygmalion.”

Upon retelling how he helped a lady reach something at Home Depot:

     “It was like Robin Hood.  She had tears in her eyes, she was so thankful.”

On seeing a hipster’s boots:

     (Loudly, pointing.) “Look at that asshole’s pointy shoes!”

Supporting me through a career crisis:

     “Quit that fucking job, come live here, and be a shithead while you figure out how to make some real money.”

Getting ice cream as a kid:

     "Tell the lady what you want.  ACHK, mint chocolate chip?!  You sure about that?  It tastes like fucking frozen toothpaste!"

Giving beauty advice:

     “You look real nice, except you could maybe wear shorts once in a while and get a tan on your legs.”

Every time he sees Steve Carrell:

     “I don’t know what it is, but I do not like that guy.  He’s a fucking squid.  A squid!  He just irks me, I don't know what it is.”

And, last but not least, being encouraging:

     “You should write something.  It’s okay if it turns out stupid.  People buy stupid shit.”

(* Author’s note: I never said anything to him about being ugly or fat.)