Your guide to fatherhood, Truant style
I’m sorry to report that still, after all of this time and effort, I have not yet been on Oprah. Apparently none of my readers know Oprah, or they are unwilling to introduce me, which is really uncool when you think about it because I would totally introduce any of you to this drunken Irish midget I used to see panhandling outside of where I worked during college.
But yeah, I haven’t been on Oprah yet and I’m not a millionaire yet, and all of this really bothers me because I promised my son that when I got my ten million dollars (which is supposed to happen this year, by the way), I’d give him ten dollars. He keeps asking me about it and nobody wants to disappoint a child by not earning ten million dollars. So I’m writing another book.
Unlike my first book, May Contain Nuts, this one will be a practical guidebook filled with tips that, if you don’t follow them, will almost certainly mean that you’ll eventually be crushed from above by a falling thousand-pound iron gun safe.
It’s called Feed It, Clothe It, & Don’t Drop It: A Parenting Guide for Regular Dudes. If this book were a Samurai, it would duel to the death with traditional fatherhood books that are filled with such lies as “you have to bathe a baby every day” and “baby clothing with Ted Nugent’s face on it is not appropriate.” This is going to be one for the rest of us — normal people who aren’t perfect. It’s so annoying when a perfect person writes a book with the goal of making everyone else feel inadequate.
It’ll be a while before it sees publication, because I’m just finishing the proposal now and will need to send it around to agents. So if any of you know good agents (no shitbags, please), tell them how awesome I am.
Just figured I’d give you a heads-up because I’m sure to talk about the process as time goes by.
So I’ll leave you with an excerpt. And then it’s time to listen to Howard Stern, so I don’t want to be disturbed. Here ya go:
Let’s face it: a lot of these “baby musts” aren’t really “musts” at all. There are a lot of things that you could do, same as how you could bathe every day on vacation. But are they all necessary? Nope. Let’s be guys here. Let’s keep it simple. Could the baby sleep in one of those big plastic Tupperware storage containers? Yeah, assuming you remember to leave the lid off.
It’s helpful to separate your baby-prep tasks into “must have” and “nice to have.” Food? Must have. Baby monitor? Nice to have. Clothes? Must have. Clothes fancier than a snugly-wrapped 1991 Winger tour T-shirt? Nice to have. By keeping in mind your “musts” – food, warmth, unobstructed breathing, Playstation 2 – you can lessen your anxiety level and consider things like diapers a “bonus.”
This just-the-basics mentality really kept me sane during our first pregnancy. I developed it out of necessity after we took a trip to Babies R’ Us for our shopping trip. Now, notice how I wrote that: “our shopping trip.” As in, I thought we were going to get everything we needed and then be done with it. That’s not exactly how it worked out.
When you go into Babies R’ Us with a pregnant woman, the clerks will crap their pants with excitement and run over to hand you a flier detailing exactly what you must have if your baby is going to remain alive and non-Bigfoot. Then they point around randomly and tell you to go nuts, and then say, “Good luck finding it all, ha-ha, fucker.”
And then the hilarity continues from there. If you could pre-order, I’d absolutely encourage you to. But you can’t. Instead, I WILL reluctantly allow you to send me money for no reason. Well, not for no reason. It would be in exchange for all of this awesome free entertainment I give you. I’m just that cool.