I bet my dad can kick your dad's ass before your dad turns around and beats him up.

It’s all how you look at it.

So, it’s Father’s Day and this might be the first one I’ve ever spent away from home. It’s a weird feeling knowing your dad is asleep on the couch and you can’t be there to watch TV in a different room…

I’d put up a picture of him but your computer screen would melt and a Stephen Hawking voice would say “Give. Me. A. Fucking. Cigarette.” But that should give you a good enough image. And yes, ladies, he was rocking that beauty flow for years. (But people actually liked it on him, WHAT GIVES!?)

I’ve known my dad for as long as I can remember…and few things have truly changed in that time. His glasses gradually shrunk (evidence against global warming), his beard slowly grew, and he made the slickest transition from stern authority to unreal ami, but he was always the same person; I was simply getting to know him through his different roles in my life.

Sometimes I was between him and a hard place and sometimes I was climbing a cliff, but he was always the rock, for better or worse (hindsight: better); and the fact that I’m only five years away from where he was when I came around just blows my mind like your computer if I’d posted that picture. To think he was learning that whole time just goes to show how stellar of a student of life he was.

Of course he also had some of the best one-liners ever, but he rarely told me his cocaine stories.


It can be an exciting and scary and goddamned unreal feeling to realize you’re becoming your own father. And secretly earth-shatteringly amazing to further realize that you get to add your own twist to your character and still befriend the original.

Some of the proudest moments in my life have involved nothing more than thinking about how I came to be where I am and how I came to be who we are.

So Happy Father’s Day, Pops.

And remember, while it’s sometimes good to be frank, it’s always good to be Bob.