Get bad grades

This is a good place to start. I started handing over in less-than-stellar report cards as early as 2nd grade. The weary and crestfallen face my Mom made was always the same. My Dad would just let out a long sigh, lower his eyes, and slowly shake his head. Over the years they got great at it.

Here a a few of the places where I got bad grades.

Date total Tramps

Every parent dreams that their child will find a sweet, kind, intelligent mate that shares all of their values and beliefs. Every parent’s darkest fear is that, instead, you will come home with a painted-up stripper with a purse full of vicodin and a G.E.D.

Look for girls with names like Angel or Nikki. Girls who make a living by wearing tiny outfits and selling shots of tequila or slinging baskets of wings at the local Hooters. Here are a few places to look for her. I met a couple in these joints:

Buy a Motorcycle

When I told my Mom that I had purchased a motorcycle she reacted like I had just pushed an ice cold dagger through her heart. She then spent the next five years mailing me newspaper clippings of every Motorcycle Fatality that occured in the English speaking world.

Smoke Cigarettes

My parents hate smoking. My Mom didn’t like the movie Goodnight and Good Luck because it was set in the 50’s and “everyone kept smoking”. When I was 17 and she found a pack of Marlboros in my jean jacket, the world nearly came to an end.

Pick up a pack at these quality discount retailers:

Get a Tattoo

My first tattoo was a tiny little black design high up on my right shoulder. The way that the folks reacted it might as well have been a huge tattoo on my forehead that spelled out “I REJECT MY PARENTS LOVE”. I’ve gotten more tattoos over the years. They still have never warmed to the idea.

Here are a few Denver tattoo shops that have treated me right.

Have no children

When my parents decided to have an only child they were unwittingly pinning all their hopes of ever having grandchildren on my narrow shoulders. They are still hoping. All of their friends have grandkids. They live in a world filled with “World’s Best Grandma” coffee mugs and where refrigerator doors are festooned with photos of cute tykes perched on knees. And still, they wait.

Work a series of dead-end jobs and show a lack of initiative and ambition.

Let’s just say this as simply as possible. My parents have not found a lot of comfort in my career path.

Enjoy some high-lights from my resume:

Fail to visit.

A few years ago my parents retired and moved to Tucson. Actually, they moved to a God-forsaken wasteland an hour outside of Tucson. It is very hot in the Arizona desert. For eight months of the year it is like being in a pizza oven. A pizza oven where everyone is in their sixties and drives around in golf-carts. In the winter months it stops being hot but continues to be Boring. I don’t like it there. My parents take this very personally.

Go there if you like:

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