No, I Will Not Fix The Overflowing Toilet Today: The Dadspin Father's Day Manifesto

Father's Day is a con. Every year, I expect to have a Father Day's filled with unlimited blackjack and gunfire-scented cologne, and every year it ends up being like every other goddamn NFL-free Sunday in existence. Father's Day is supposed to be MY day, but most of the time my family abandons any pretense of me being special by 10 a.m. After 10 a.m., my wife starts looking at me like I'm taking liberties with the whole Father's Day gimmick. After 10 a.m., both she and the kids have had enough of me being a lazy shit and begin to demand that I take action, which is WRONG. I'm supposed to get the whole day.

Furthermore, my wife harbors the mistaken impression that I'm supposed to spend Father's Day WITH my children. Screw that. I'm with these little nutjobs all year long. What's so special about ANOTHER day hanging around them? This holiday isn't called Father & Son Day or Father & Daughter Day. It's Father's Day. The father stands alone. ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME. No one else. ME.

With that in mind, I thought I would attempt to set Father's Day straight and lay down some basic rules about how your family ought to treat you, the father, on your day of days.

1. No time limits on Daddy's sleep in. Having your kids jump on your face at 9 a.m. is not sleeping in. Having your wife tell you, "You've slept in enough" 10 minutes later is also not sleeping in. Sleeping in happens when you are able to rouse myself of your own accord, without anyone trying to hurry your ass along. I want a FULL sleep in. Not half of one.

2. Daddy gets to shower for as long as he wants. No rushed shower jobs. Nothing worse than having to take a shower under a five-minute time constraint because you have to put a snack pack together for a trip to the Pony Museum. I want a solid 30 minutes in there, with bonus time for pooping and fapping at my discretion. And no barging in! Daddy wants to love himself!

3. No fucking house projects. I'm not assembling anything. I'm not fixing anything. I'm not installing anything, not even software. Oh, the toilet's overflowing? MONDAY. You can ask me to fix it on Monday. For now, you will just have to live with being ankle deep in raw kiddie waste.

4. We eat what I want to fucking eat. Having kids means constantly making compromises when it comes to food. We have to order the plain cheese pizza because little Johnny has a sausage allergy. We can't make spicy food because little Jenny's just not ready for it. FUCK THAT. Today, we eat GOOD food. Today, I stand by a grill and cook whatever cut of pig or cow I want, liberally doused in East Indian death spices and coated with a 50-ingredient barbecue sauce. SO MANY FLAVOR PROFILES. If the kids don't like it, they can eat dirt. Dirt is lactose free, so have all you like.

5. No one bitches when Daddy kills a pantry item. If I finish the Doritos and don't offer the last morsels to one of my children, my wife looks at me like I'm goddamn Scarface. You know what? Screw that. I'm gonna eat all the pistachios I want, and if there are no pistachios left for the rest of you, TOUGH SHIT. Show some hustle and get to the pistachios before I do. Because once they're in my hands, they're GONE. They stand no chance. I am a nut whore.

Also, I get Chris Rock's proverbial "big piece of chicken." In fact, I get every big piece of food: the big cookie, the big steak, the big Cheeto, all of it.

6. No baseball. I'm not taking my kids to a baseball game. Why would I do that? Why would I subject myself to spending all that money, taking all that time to find a parking spot, and sitting there while my kids bitch about how bored they are? Not a chance. If I'm going to a baseball game on Father's Day, it's not gonna be with a kid. It's gonna be with my friend Jeremy, and we're gonna get shitfaced and say horribly abusive things about the ump and his children.

7. Somebody needs to remind Daddy to call grandpa and wish him a Happy Father's Day. Oh, that's right. I have a dad as well. Remind me to take three minutes out of celebrating myself to place a cursory call to him so that I can apologize for being too lazy to send a card. LOVE YA, DAD!

8. No dirty looks when Daddy has had eight beers in the span of 35 minutes. Every Father's Day, I'm told that I have carte blanche to eat and drink as I please. And what happens? Thirty minutes into my repulsive binge, I get that look from the missus that's like, "Do you HAVE to drink that much and eat that many ham slices?" And the answer is YES. I do. This is one of my only days to do this (apart from every weekend day, and holidays, and Thursdays), so don't ruin my good time by telling me that I'm having too much of a good time. NO STRINGS! I WANT NO STRINGS ATTACHED WHEN DRINKING A HANDLE OF JACK IN FRONT OF THE BABY.

9. SEXY SEX SEX! Daddy gets all the sexy sex he wants! Also, he does none of the heavy lifting.

10. All the golf and NBA Finals Daddy wants. Why would I want to watch five hours of golf on a lovely Sunday afternoon? Because it's Father's Day and I can AND YOUR ARGUMENT IS MOOT. This is my day, goddammit, and I refuse to let it slip away and turn into just another ordinary day. I will take my three-hour shower. I will eat ALL the Bugles. And all of you have to leave the house when I feel like taking a nap because I'm a surprisingly light sleeper. It's Father's Day. SHOW SOME RESPECT.

Image by Jim Cooke. Source photos via Caimacanul and Margaret M. Stewart/Shutterstock.