Hello all and welcome to a special Father’s Day edition of the Weinblog. I truly hope that all the fathers out there had a nice day, and that everyone else had a mediocre to average day.
Apparently Mother Nature honored her own father today, giving us a beautiful and sunny Sunday. In just two days, summer will officially be upon us, or as I like to call it… the time when girls suddenly start posting bikini pictures on Facebook. I love the summer!
I’ve spent practically the entire day at home, watching sports, movies and TV shows. Basically the perfect day. Father’s Day doesn’t really have as much significance when you live at home and see your father every single day.
Speaking of sports, I just watched Rory McIlroy win the U.S. Open. He’s only 22 years old. Don’t you just love it when somebody younger than you accomplishes something amazing? I swear, if somebody younger than 30 accomplishes something that gains them positive international attention, then the media should be banned from revealing their age. It could only do bad things to the morale of the rest of the untalented, dull members of America… like me.
Anyway, as I was saying, today was a beautiful day, and it put a cap on what was a very nice weekend.
However, while I was out on Friday, a woman came up to me and asked me something that I will never understand. I’ll say what it was in a second, but allow me to preface it by saying that there is no worse question that a male can be asked. Because there is no right answer you can give. Anyway, so a woman comes up to me and asks:
“How old do you think I look?”
Fuck. That’s what my reaction is to being asked that question. Notice that I use the word “woman” instead of “girl,” because this woman was middle-aged. And honestly — albeit I had my drunk-goggles on — she looked very good for her age. But either way, this question sucks. And here’s why:
For starters, when you’re being asked this question, you know that the woman is obviously older than she looks, but she wants other people to think that she’s young. So, naturally, you’re probably going to guess an age older than what you actually think. However, that’s not what she wants to hear. She wants me to guess an extremely young age. So I lie. I say she looks like she’s 25.
Now that’s an obvious lie. She didn’t look anything resembling 25, and she knew I was lying. And this made her mad, because she wants an honest answer. So now I get blamed for trying to offer a compliment.
What the hell?! Why do woman do this? Finally, I told her that I’m not going to guess, because I can only lose in this situation, and then I told her that no matter how old she is that she still looks fantastic and that I would absolutely have sex with her. That seemed to make her happy. We didn’t have sex though.
And that is how you turn a lose-lose situation around. But girls, I think I speak for all men when I say, please stop asking that question. For good.
My other drunken night, Saturday, consisted of sushi, sake bombing and drunken karaoke. Not a bad combination if I say so myself. Personally, I detest the taste of sake. It’s my least favorite alcoholic beverage. One shot of it makes me want to vomit. Mixed with beer, however, I can bear it. And I did. Many o’ times.
As for drunken karaoke, I enjoy it. Unfortunately, I was not blessed with a pleasant singing voice. Quite the contrary. My voice sucks. So that’s why whenever I do karaoke in public, I have to be hammered. Despite several sake bombs and a lot of beer, I remember being at the bar at thinking that I wasn’t drunk enough to do karaoke.
Which is why I went straight to the bar and ordered a shot of Jack. That did it. The moment I took the shot, I said aloud “give me that karaoke book!” and immediately signed up.
At one point, I believe I sang the song “I Want It That Way” with my friends (girls picked it). Now this was tricky. But I think I handled it well. While I was singing, I made sure to glance at the screen before every line so that I didn’t give the impression to everyone that I know the words. Because, the truth is, I know every single word by heart. Every single word. But I couldn’t let that be known in public. So I made sure to pretend that I was learning each line on the spot before singing it. I’m a very smart man.
And that was my night, and basically my weekend. Oh, and there’s one thing I’m ashamed to admit. It’s a small thing, but, I always look at my text messages the day after drinking. It’s always fun to read the texts you sent out while in an inebriated state. Most of the time they offer me a laugh. Anyway, I noticed that I sent a text to myself. I sent a text with an idea that I could blog about later this week. That’s not the bad part. The bad part is that at the end of the text I wrote “lol.”
I wrote “lol” to myself. In a text message. I don’t even approve of the usage of that acronym in any situation. Let alone while talking to myself. I’m quite ashamed.
But it’s good to get that off of my chest. And now that I’ve done that, I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my Father’s Day. You know, for some reason, it’s occurred to me lately that I think I have the capability of being a very good father. I like kids. I’m good with kids, and I think I would be a pretty cool and chill dad. Of course, that is probably what every dad thinks.
I’m sure there are several people out there that would make the claim, and with reasonable cause, that I should never procreate. But, heck, you could say that about a lot of people.
Fortunately I am only 24 and don’t have to worry about this for a while. In fact it’s crazy to even think about now. I was just a child very recently. How can I create one?!
Although, my age is probably not the biggest deterrent for me to not consider having a child. There’s that other thing that’s a necessary part of the equation, what it’s called again? Oh yeah, a female.