To my Darling Wife – There is no need to spend $90 on a beach buggy. We really don’t need to cart every single chair, toy, towel and blanket down to the beach. I could use my own team of sherpa with all the crap I have to bring. You give them a bucket and shovel like we had when we were kids and that’s it.
To the 17 and 18 year old girls at the ice cream shop – I love each and every one of you.
To the annoying 12 year old boy next door – Your mother’s a whore, you were a mistake and your father hates you. Have a nice life.
To American Express – I do nothing, go nowhere and never purchase anything over $50 but yet my monthly bill is always $4-5K. There is obviously a glitch in your system.
To my neighbors – I was right around the corner when you had your fucking block party. I want nothing to do with you anyway and if I had my way, I would live on 100 acres, 80 of which would make up the moat surrounding my house.
To my In-laws – You’ve know me for years. When you have us over for a BBQ, don’t ask me if I want a hot dog or hamburger. Make me one hot dog (always to be eaten first) and two cheese burgers. Any less than that is ridiculous. (And as an aside – no grown man should way less than 185 pounds.)
To the 135 lb. faux-hawk, tight shirt wearing punk working in the high end chick store that I got dragged into – You make $8 an hour, look like a freak and I can break you in half with a flick of my finger. You are an embarrassment to your father. Get over yourself.
To the local cop in town – Thank you for giving me a ticket for doing 32 in a 25 mph zone. You’re fat and balding. Stop banging craigslist hookers and handcuff yourself to a suicide bomber.
To my friends who decided to have their 2 and 3 year old kid’s birthday parties on the weekend – Great fucking job. I enjoyed sweating with you in your pool-less backyard on those nice sunny weekends. It’s not like I work during the week and wanted to be on the beach, golfing or any other place than your fucking backyard. Dick head. The only poor bastard who had it worse was the tool sweating his nuts off in the Elmo suit.
Ice cream guy – Are you fucking serious? Do you really need to come around twice in a 2 hour span? Do you have any idea of the anarchy you cause in my house?
To my kids swim teacher – $70 an hour for lessons and my kid won’t even go near the pool without a tube. Nice work… You failed.
To my sprinkler guy – I’m on to you. There’s no fucking way in hell these heads break that often.
To the moron at the pet store who said it was OK to put two Beta fish in the same bowl – Great job. Actually, I though it was pretty cool to watch but my kids may need therapy.
To the car wash owner – I think it might be a good idea to have at least one person that has some command of the english language. Just a thought.
To the maker of Rash Guards – You should be hailed as a modern day hero. Not only do you do away with that annoying suntan lotion, you make it socially acceptable for us chubbies to cover that unsightly flab up and look like we belong. I like to carry around a boogie board as an accessory to really help “sell” the look.
To the next golf outing event I get invited to – I’m showing up in jean shorts, flip-flops, an untucked Bud Light golf shirt (not those dry fit ones either, I’m talking the old fashioned cotton ones), my hat on backwards and smoking a cigarette. Then I’m changing into my golf shoes and talking on phone right in the middle of the lobby. Go fuck yourself and your rules.
-Duke
