Dear Daddio,

Thank you so much for being the dankest dad ever. Even though I get butthurt when you give me constructive criticism, hide in the shadows of shame when your bring blown-up posters of my face to my sports games and throw shade when you try to make small talk with my friends, I secretly live for it.

You’re a real one for throwing a Post-it note saying “miss you a*swipe” in all of Mom’s care packages. Major love for teaching me how to grill so I look like a #kewl girl in front of all the men I want to impress. Even though I poo-pooed on your funk music when I was an angsty tween yearning to belt Avril Lavigne, I shall admit I was a little brat and didn’t know quality music as it was gloriously amplified right in front of me. Peace, love, Kool & The Gang!

Sorry I threw fits when you used to switch “That’s So Raven” to “60 Minutes.” I truly had an immense hatred toward Barbara Walters from age eight to 11, but now I fully acknowledge the glory of Barbs and the importance of being an educated American that comprehends the struggles of others.

Furthermore, I would like to take this moment to fully thank you for killing any and all spiders and large bugs. I don’t like creatures with more than four legs. Dogs, four legs, cute. Hippos, four legs, saucy. Beetles, six legs, peace out, g-bye. Dad, thank you for being a man of the Knight’s Watch and gallantly slaying the spooky bugs. It would be a dark and arachnid-filled world without you, Sir Daddio.

As much as it pains me to say this, thank you for your love advice. I used to hate it when you would invasively interrogate me about my nonexistent love life, but now I must say time and time again you’re correct. If they like the Celtics, they’re probably an a*shole. If they went started watching the Warriors and pretending they were #dubnation three seasons ago, they’re bandwagoning skanks. And most of all, if they don’t appreciate you at your worst, they don’t deserve you at your best. Yeah, I may have dabbed out, yakked all over said person and ran about in the nude belting “Eye of the Tiger,” but if you taught me anything, Dad, being boring is the greatest of all evils.

Thanks for helping me join society. Without you I would have no clue how to mail a package, write a check or operate TiVo. I know teaching me how to drive was like a Six Flags ride post three hot dogs, but, hey, look at me now, only three fender-benders and nine speeding tickets later.

I know I could be thanking you for a load of other things, but you know as well as I do that you don’t need an ego boost. You’re sexy and you know it. You’re king of the grill, and your kids kick other kids’ asses in the awesome department.

Lots of love, big guy,

The Clog

Peace, love, Clog, dads.