Look At What A Fucking Nerd My Son Is
by Boobie
When we sent invitations to my six year old’s birthday party out to his classmates, we didn’t expect much. Frankly, I told my wife Sil that we should just lie about having sent them and save the stamps, you know? But she said no, we had to invite all his classmates, some of them would definitely come, and it was our responsiblity as parents to throw Teddy a birthday party. Well, Sil, I hate to say I told you so, but it didn’t really make a difference, did it? No one showed. I’d say you owe me $15.68.
I’ve never been so ashamed in my life. Do you know what a social cancer you have to be for even ONE kid to skip your birthday party when free pizza is on the table? I even go to my coworker Dennis’s conference room birthday parties every year just to grab a slice of pepperoni, and he’s been trying to get me fired ever since I came into work hungover and threw up in his drawer. I don’t know what Teddy did to make all his classmates hate him, but when not even one parent RSVPed for the party, I knew he had to be punished, and what better punishment is there than a good old fashined public shaming? Sil said we couldn’t do the thing like the naked shorthaired chick with the cans from the dragon show, so Facebook and the news would have to do.
I remember when I was six years old, I was beating friends off with a stick. Maybe it was because I was the best player on an undefeated teeball team, and an undefeated soccer team; maybe it was because my dad was the strongest dad; maybe it just because I knew all the best ways to get away with saying curse words. But ALL of my classmates came to my birthday parties. Debbie Vincenzo came to all my birthday parties, and a couple years later she was the first girl in the whole class to get boobs. You can’t buy that kind of social capital. And now I have this little fucking geek of a son who doesn’t even have one friend? Unacceptable.
I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. I blame Sil, and I blame participation trophy culture. Teddy’s teeball team is undefeated, too, but that’s just because the coaches don’t keep score, which is honestly for the best — the kid stinks. This uncoordinated little idiot can barely knock the ball off the tee, let crush towering bombs that drive all the chicks wild like his old man used to. That’s Sil’s genes, not mine. I scream and yell my head off at him to figure it out, to keep his hands level through the strike zone. I’ve thrown the occassional High Life tall boy at him to try to light a fire under his ass. If he doesn’t feel bad enough about himself after that to figure out how to be cool, I have to go bigger. For him to fix his social problems, the whole country has to know what a god damn dork he is.
Seriously, not ONE of his classmates liked him enough to come? Not even Marty? If he can’t even pull Marty, how the hell will he ever get the Lisas or Kylees or Treydens of the school to show up? Does he have any idea how bad this makes us look? Sil told me last week that her wine-and-book club membership is on thin ice thanks to “that immature twerp of [hers],” and all the other dads from teeball are too embarrassed to hang out with me, I’m assuming because Teddy could barely touch the mothershitting ball if he was bunting. I try to tell them that it’s fine, I’m embarrassed too, but even when I show them how cool I am by making fun of Teddy’s stupid knock knees and the way he cries like a little bitch when I yell at him, they don’t want to sit with me. Not even Marty’s dad.
I don’t know if Teddy will ever be tough. When I was the thirdstring lineback on my high school’s JV football team, I broke one of my fingers, and I only missed two games. Teddy scrapes his knee and cries for two hours. But hopefully, the whole country pointing and laughing at him for being such a colossal dweeb will be the kick in the kiester he needs to be more like his dad. If that doesn’t work, maybe him having money will. Here’s a link to his GoFundMe. You online idiots love donating to GoFundMes. The money will definitely go to Teddy, for college or whatever. Although Teddy did tell me that if he had one wish it would be for his dad to have a 1967 Mustang. So just keep that in mind.
