Be proud if you can be 23.8% respected

This is the look on your wifes face right before she bursts out laughing at your demands.

This is the look on your wife's face right before she bursts out laughing at your demands.

For approximately 40 hours a week, you may be considered smart, quick-minded, creative and competent.  During those 40 hours, you may be well-liked and respected.  You may have even found occasion to be feared.

As a result, you sometimes stride with a cocksure gait.  On really good days,  when you proceed down the street, onlookers appear confused as they too can hear your theme music playing in their heads.

However, at the end of your day, as you approach your home, something changes.  Your theme music suddenly melts away into a mixture of xylophone and the theme song to Real Simple TV.  Your stride turns into a shuffle, your shoulders shrug and you brace yourself to be considered marginally interesting and not at all threatening.  Your iron will becomes a fruit roll-up, and it is kept folded neatly in your briefcase in the hall closet for the remaining 128 hours, or 76.2% of the week.

Your wife, who once truly cared about your preferences and even slyly earned your devotion by accommodating some ongoing demands, now finds them to be largely hypothetical and wholly amusing.

At this point, your child is not aware that you have any other purpose than to act as a poor substitute for the nice lady that usually takes care of him.

Your friends think you are a weak baby and they keep making that annoying *whippoosh* sound.

Your father thinks your discomfort with this whole notion is almost as hysterical as how long it took you to realize what had happened.

But not me, man.  I want you to know that I understand.  And that I always will.

Just keep coming back during any of the 168 hours of your week.  Maybe together, we can bump that respect-meter up to a healthy 25%.


11 Responses to “Be proud if you can be 23.8% respected”

  1. “Your iron will becomes a fruit roll-up.” If this line doesn’t say, “PRINT ME ON A T-SHIRT” then why even MAKE t-shirts?

    Seriously? DOB t-shirt line? With the blog logo on the front and various one liners such as this on the back? I could have all my Christmas shopping DONE BY NEXT WEEK.

    Other possible suggestions for the back of the shirts:

    – “Of course then I remember that I don’t like wiping ass.”
    – “I AM YOUR FAH-THAH” (I kinda paraphrased this one.)
    – “Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep.”
    – “Lesley is my biggest fan.” (Okay, maybe this one is mostly just for me.)

    And for the record, I respect you at least 38% of the time.

  2. Ok, I know being a new dad is chaos on a daily basis and the holidays make it even worse but….. WHERE ARE YOU???? I’ve tweeted you and been checking your blog to make sure the RSS isn’t broken… got time for a quick update before we say goodbye to 2008?

  3. Hmm…never knew some fathers go through this. Will certainly run a check on my baby’s father and analyse….


  4. My Baby’s Daddy is the bomb and gets all of our respect (most of the time.)

  5. Theme Music! That’s funny. I wonder what my theme music would be. Probably something out of Willy Wonka or something. I don’t go anywhere during the day so my level of respect is pretty much always at a minimum among people I do not know. Fortunately my family knows how much I do and they respect me. It’s just annoying to have to explain myself to others. Nice, Thanks for the read.

  6. reg easy cleaner , buy Registry Easy ,get Registry Easy

  7. great music vist the site

  8. passing through what a nice blog

  9. you explained so good.

  1. 1 Dad’s Own Little World « Boys’ Rites of Passage

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s