Photo credit to Whitney Johnson and her dad, Craig (on the right).
Tags: dad magazine, dads, jaya saxena, matt lubchansky
Photo credit to Whitney Johnson and her dad, Craig (on the right).
Tags: dad magazine, dads, jaya saxena, matt lubchansky
Young People These Days: How Wrong ARE They?
Modern Music: It’s All Just Noise (The Bits You Like Owe A LOT to Bowie)
How To Hide Your Love For The Cat
“How to hide your love for the cat”
I was unaware my dad was one of those Secret Second Family types, but it’s good to know y’all got a cat he immediately fell in love with over his strenuous protests too!
My dad brought 4 cats to the relationship when he and my mom married. She had one who hated everyone except my dad. He is the biggest cat man I know.
Oh, dads and cats. It was my dad’s idea to adopt our current cat. I was leaving for grad school in three months and couldn’t bring a cat with me, but Dad literally just kept going ‘hey, let’s go to Petsmart and look at the shelter kitties!’ for weeks until finally we found one that he decided we simply had to adopt. The cat has spent more time with him than she has with me. And yet he insists that she’s my cat, not his. He wants a dog, he says, not a cat.
Such lies!
Two hours early is the right amount of early. BRING THREE BOOKS.
I have three books and an e-reader. And snacks. WHAT HAS HE DONE
Yes. This is how my dad has permanently hindered my relationship to airports (IF IT’S A NATIONAL FLIGHT WE’LL LEAVE THE HOUSE FIVE HOURS EARLY THAT SHOULD ACCOUNT FOR TRAFFIC AND OTHER UNFORESEEN DELAYS) but probably made me a better reader.
Oh dear, I’m a dad. I was only one hour early for a flight Saturday and spent the drive to the airport gnawing my fingers off because WHAT IF IT WASN’T ENOUGH TIME?
Also, does “We’ll Listen To Your Stories!” also include listening to the full-blown details of every trip after the return, including details about the lengths of the check-in and bag check lines, the security lines, and any other interesting sights seen in transit?
(I also show up super early to flights and worry the whole time.)
I love getting to the airport early. I can get through security, and sit by the gate and drink coffee and read in peace, and occassionally look up and see mankind’s second greatest technological achievement (after the train) in action.
The dead time and ensuing opportunities for people-watching involved in travel are the best bits!
My wife: “We have plenty of time. Why do you want to get to the airport so early?”
Me: “So I can eat a Cinnabon and look at myriad weirdos.”
Exactly! And sniff all the perfume samples and goggle at the strange tourist tat, like expensive tins of shortbread in the shape of national icons.
In Canada, jars of maple syrup in the shape of maple leaves, beavers, mounties, totem poles (we will colonize your land and try to crush you, but we’ll use your sacred symbols to sell overpriced trinkets to tourists).
I have posted before that I and my partner have very different attitudes re: getting to the airport. If I were you, Aravis, I’d have been gnawing my fingers, too, while Partner would be like, “We have time to stop for a sandwich!”
My husband was driving me and he was all “Oh, you have plenty of time!” and I was going NO, NO I DON’T! I won’t be satisfied until I’m sitting at the gate with a snack!
This is because once my connection was late and I had to run through Pearson, dragging my bag, while they paged me down this long, long, long hall and I got to the plane and had a coughing fit and the woman behind me gave me a cough drop and told me to stop coughing. Thanks, lady.
Oh lord, my worst “condescending person on the plane doesn’t understand basic germ theory” story involves the holiday flight with a dry cough and passive-aggressive cough drops sent via flight attendant from six rows away.
And then the concerned citizen in question stopping by my seat to explain how I was going to ruin everyone else’s holiday with my terrible diseases.
UGH WHY PEOPLE WHY. It was a classic case of “panting with no water” + “a catch in your throat” and bam, coughing fit, but noooo, People on Airplanes feel free to make you their own personal projects of You’re Being Bad, Stop That.
Once, my companion and I overslept before our flight. (I had booked my solo flight weeks before; my friend decided a few days before that he’d like to join me.) We woke with ~90 minutes to make the ~hour trip to the airport. I immediately went into overdrive, calling a cab and jamming my shoes on.
He said “Yeah, yeah — I just have to pack” and lazily started shoving handfuls of clean underpants and teeshirts into the corners of his guitar case.
I almost left without him.
At least they were clean underpants…?
Was your friend my brother? Because that sounds just like him.
(My dad is definitely a “get to the airport early” person, but I feel like maybe it’s different being from the UK, as almost all of our flights are international. Last time I flew the confirmation email I got said “CHECK-IN CLOSES ONE HOUR BEFORE DEPARTURE”, which I consider pretty standard – arriving less than two hours before the flight feels extremely unwise.)
Things Sure Have Changed Since You Were Last Here
When To Arrive At The Airport For Domestic Flights — Is Three Hours Enough??
Oh man, this is so right on the money. I’m glad I get to see my Dad in a couple of weeks!
That arena you used to go to? It’s been under a new name since 1995. You will call it by the old name (the correct one) until the day you die.
omg one of my dad-age coworkers just called one of our arenas in Pittsburgh (the First Niagara Pavilion) by its old name this morning. It hasn’t been the Star Lake Amphitheater since 1999.
But it is the Star Lake Ampitheatre! It’s on Star Lake Lane, by Star Lake. First Niagara is a bank! It’s not a bank.
I am so old. So, so old.
Star Lake Amphitheater! I went to my first concert there. Yes, it was New Kids On the Block.
I went to my first concert there too! No Doubt, in 1996.
I went to my first concert there when it was Post Gazette Pavilion! It was…
sigh…
Dave Matthews Band.
I also eternally convinced that, though it may reincarnate into a new form, the place where Penguins games are held shall always be called Civic Arena.
I still refer to what is now Lakewood Church as “The Summit,” and plan to keep doing so WELL PAST the day that no one else knows what the hell I’m talking about.
The Rose Garden will always be The Rose Garden. The Moda Center can suck it. *skateboards over Moda Center with erect middle fingers*
Damn right! And it’s Sandstone Amphitheater, NOT “Cricket Wireless Amphitheater” dangit. SANDSTONE.
The Rogers Centre in Toronto IS NOT THE ROGERS CENTRE
IT IS THE SKY DOME
My 11 year old cousin called it The Rogers Centre the other week, with no idea it used to be called something else before 2005. Angels wept.
YES! It’s the Sky Dome because the dome opens AND YOU CAN SEE THE SKY. I’m not calling it the Rogers Centre, I have to curse their name every month when I look at my cell phone bill. *shakes fist*
Why would you want to call it something so boringly corporate?! Like ok we get it Rogers you and Bell own everything, give it a rest already
I didn’t even know it wasn’t called the Sky Dome anymore until this summer when my FIL stayed there during his visit and I couldn’t understand why he was going to watch the Blue Jays at some Rogers building. I sincerely thought that meant that the Sky Dome was closed.
Glad to know I’m on the right side of history with the Sky Dome.
The Rogers Arena in Vancouver, where the Canucks play, used to be GM Place. Vancouverites called it The Garage. It is impossible to come up with a fun nickname for Rogers Arena. If our sports arenas have to be corporate owned (though taxpayer funded) they should at least be nickname-able.
http://www.nooooooooooooooo.com/
Wow, I think we all needed this today. Also, I'm about to be half an hour early for my doctor's appointment and I'm very worried it's not enough – I am a dad.
These are so consistently, perfectly spot-on that I’m beginning to suspect Jaya and Matt ARE dads.
YAY DAD MAGAZINE!
This is totally unrelated but one of the book ads I am getting on this post is called “The Poor Man’s Guide to Suicide” and I would always find such a title distasteful for personal reasons but today it seems extra tone-deaf and I don’t know how much control y’all have over this but I just wanted to let the Toast Powers That Be know…
Tell Nick! [email protected] Agreed that it’s particularly inappropriate right now.
Alarming study?? Iswydt…
Oh man, those are some EXTREMELY cool Cover Dads.
I’m mostly upset he didn’t keep that vest so I could steal it.
As well you should be. You could pair it with the rad studded white leather belt my dad didn’t keep, and it would be QUITE the look.
oh my god. Can “clothes dad should have kept so I could use it” be the new fashion trend.
My dad actually DID keep his leather motorcycle pants that fit my sister and me when we were in high school. I also used to wear his Vietnam-era army jacket around.
I managed to hang onto my late Dad’s down jacket “The Blue Bomber” and I love busting it out in late Fall. It never fails to remind me of him and I know he’d appreciate me wearing it; aw, still missing you, Larry. Always, always missing you.
<3
I have this absurd brown and orange knit sweater thing. It’s absurd and wonderful.
Also, Craig wanted us to know that he borrowed the vest otherwise of course I could have had it.
My dad is constitutionally unable to get rid of anything, which is how I came to wear the flour sack shirt that he got in Mexico in 1968 to every music festival I went to in college.
(This makes it sound like my dad was a cool hippie dude in 1968, so I feel compelled to clarify that he was 8 years old and on a family road trip vacation [yes, they drove from New Jersey to Mexico City and back, I cannot account for it except to say that his dad was also a dad])
I have lots of my dad’s old clothes. These include: 2 pairs of bellbottoms with embroidered flowers at the bottom (one pair which I cannot wear because they’re too small for me), a black belt, a raspberry suede belt, several groovy sweaters, and a name badge jacket that says “Randy.”
Just this past weekend I was trying to remember if it was Fine Woodworking magazine my dad kept in the bathroom growing up, or if it was Fine Homebuilding, and then I realized it was a trick question, because the answer is both. Dads!
Your Old Jeans Are Totally Fine: How To Get Your Wife And Grown Daughter To Stop Trying To Get You New Pants
My dad was suuuuper into jorts. As soon as it got a tiny bit warm out he’d start making cut offs. He’d eye my jeans and volunteer to cut them up for me.
My dad would, upon noticing a thinning in the knees of any type of pant, literally stand up and start cutting them off above the knee. Not just jeans either! Like, Dockers! And then he would continue to wear them around with the same socks/loafer combo he wore when they were long. I just….I…
“I Don’t Know, The Cut’s Just Different”: Strategies For After They’ve Successfully Tricked You Into Buying New Pants
(Those are literally the exact same pants, Dad, the cut is NOT DIFFERENT.)
(Even better if it is later discovered that Dad accidentally put on the old pants before embarking on this performance.)
DAD THEY’RE THE SAME, COME ON.
Unfortunately, Pants.
ZINGGGGG! You just won the internet, congratulations.
My dad cuts the collars off all his t-shirts. He finds them stifling. We find it embarrassing.
I find this hilarious. Dad move #345621: why buy a v-neck when you own a pair of scissors?
My dad does something similar wherein he frequently tugs downwards on the front collar of his t-shirts, stretching them out into weirdly misshapen v-necks. He tends to do this most often when he is agitatedly lecturing on the benefits of a paleo diet.
My dad has a pair of pants that are fake denim fabric that have lost all structural integrity in the crotch and are way too big for him. He calls them his play pants and he wears them, belted high around his midsection, out to the driveway to bring in the paper in the morning. He has thus far eluded all attempts by my mother to replace or repair them. DADS.
“Play pants” made me LOL. Something about the combination of youthful whimsicality and the hint of something naughty it evokes.
My nearly-eighty-year-old father is convinced that he can wear the same clothing that he did in high school. In the fifties.
Two weeks ago I went on a week-long bicycle trip with my dad (and many other dads. Highlights included: getting up early to Beat the Heat, re-applying sunscreen, seeing the Surf Ballroom where Buddy Holly played his last show, drinking beers, and taking it easy. Dad approved of the craft beer that I brought.
Also, I’m pretty sure all Dad hobbies have to start before 8am.
yoooooou were on raaaaaagbrai!
My friends did it, delightfully sans-paters, and still managed to get up stinking early! Dad…EVENT?!?!
Oh man, it’s a total Dad event. So many dads. I may have turned into a dad by being there.
The arena one is making me sad because I used to go see Giants games at Candlestick with my dad and now they will be tearing it down.
The headlines’ slightly-not-matching shades of green are pretty much exactly Dad-ish. “Eh…close enough.”
“What Do You Mean These Socks Don’t Match?”
Pop-Pop gets a Grisham?
What is it with becoming a dad and suddenly having to wake up two hours before sunrise? I used to put it down to my father being a teacher and having to be at work by 7am, but now I don’t know.
My dad gets up at like 3:30 AM these days. It’s crazy.
This one is definitely not universal. My dad won’t get up before 8:30 unless something is on fire.
Oh my god, my dad does this too. He acts like the ass crack of dawn is the only morally correct time to wake up–“late sleeper” is synonymous with “lazy, degenerate slob” in his worldview. He can be pretty nasty about it, so waking up ridiculously early is not a “lovable dad trait” for this dad of mine.
Mr. Ipomoea became A Dad and now, instead of sleeping in as late as possible, he is up by 7 on weekends. This is partially because The Heir gets up by 7, and partially because he feels guilty about wasting perfectly good daylight in bed (even if he’s just using it to play World of Warcraft). The daylight-wasting thing is maybe parenting-related, I slept until 9am on Sunday and was horrified.
I gave my dad some super-nice jeans ages ago, and I noticed recently he wears them on purpose when I come home for Sunday dinner and it’s impossibly sweet and very quiet.
I think I’ve told this story before, but my mom got sick of my dad wearing his lousy jeans everywhere so she got him a nice pair of Ralph Lauren jeans to wear to places where jeans are OK, but “good jeans” are better.
The following week he came downstairs mumbling about how he couldn’t find his “Yves St. Laurent” jeans anywhere.
How many Whitney Johnsons are there on The Toast? That is Not My Dad.
THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE.
It’s cool, you can have it. I took my husband’s name when I got married last year because it’s German and confuses people, and I like confusing people. That is a sweet vest, though.
Oh, that was anticlimactic. But um, awesome on the confusing name possibilities. Well done!
Don’t you kind of wish he was, though? So rad.
(Wish! Wish – not intentional use of the Alternate Whitney’s name.)
Shortcuts! 10 Amazing New Ways To Get Home That You Never Thought Of Before.
History! 10 Amazing Facts About What Businesses Used to Occupy the Buildings You Pass on Your Drive to the Restaurant
Oh god, this happens so much with my dad.
Oh god yes. Complete with a full history of the people you knew who frequented said buildings!
“this building, you know, it used to be a Ponderosa. it closed when you were three. you wouldn’t remember it, but we went there once. well, we didn’t, but you went with your grandmother. and your mom. and then that closed… it was empty for a while. then they tore it down. then they put in the Hollywood video. Matthew worked there. you remember Matthew? Actually, Matthew’s aunt Rita worked at the Ponderosa. Rita from the choir”
“dad”
“Rita sings with me in the choir now. and then Hollywood video closed. There was a Starbucks next door. That closed, too. They put in a mattess store. You remember Doug? Doug Ferrer? Doug Ferrer’s…. cousin works at the mattress store. No, he’s the manager”
“dad”
“Doug’s cousin is the manager. Yes. What did they put in in place of the Starbucks? A Little Cesar’s? Your bother likes to go there. You know, all these places closing. The mayoral election is coming up. You really should vote. Actually, you know Lucille? From church? Well her son”
“dad please”
110% accurate.
This perfect. My uncle does this too. About everything.
When I was looking for my first apartment in Chicago, my roommate and I circled all the ads (this was pre-Craig’s list) we could afford, and my uncle went through and told us which ones were in acceptable neighborhoods. Plus which one was in the same neighborhood where an obscure family friend lived 40 years ago (did your Gram ever tell you about Honey Whelan? He lived near there), which was close to a Sears (do you like Sears?), which was near his friend John’s apartment in the 70s (you remember John, right?), which was near the church they had to move when they widened Ashland Ave, etc. etc.
This, and ljndawson’s comment are my step-dad 110%. He’s got so many dad traits it’s unreal, considering he never had kids of his own and didn’t marry my mom until all her kids were adults.
The mom equivalent of this is People You Know Who Know People Who’ve Died.
yes, god. macabre, whispered descriptions of how the body was found, even when we’re alone in the car, always the whispering.
I thought it was only my mom.
Oh god I’m a dad
THE SCENIC ROUTE: A DAD’S LIFEBLOOD
Also, Adventure Driving! Pick a road and go, no map required.
I am mystified by these other early bird dads. Is this really a thing? REALLY?
We were regularly late to any and all things by at least one hour if not two. (Cue little me tragically waiting around to be picked up and NOT allowed to attend the mandatory after school program because my dad didn’t want to pay for it. I had to hide in the hallway!) Whenever our relatives invited us to birthdays or holiday parties, they would give us a start time two hours before the actual start time. This probably only worked once, and then my dad caught on.
I am also mystified. My dad was never appallingly late, but my mom was the one who got us everywhere at LEAST an hour early. This worked great when I was in band or choir (we actually left my dad on the side of the road once to walk home because he had already made us late and then spilled his Pepsi all over himself in the car. I defend that decision – it was a small town, and home was not far from where we were.).
In addition to being a dad, your dad is also an Uncle Bob.
My dad is considered to Live Dangerously because occasionally he’ll show up to church or whatever AS MASS IS BEGINNING, not five minutes early as is mandated by my mother the timekeeper.
Life in their house is weird.
My father would walk around calling out the actions of the priest to make us move faster if we were running late for mass. “Father’s waiting in the vestibule!” “Father’s starting the processional!”
My dad is always late everywhere, too. I was also the tragic little kid waiting for her dad to pick her up if we had any after-school stuff. He was late once because he *forgot* to pick me up and only remembered when my mom called him to check why we weren’t home yet.
SAME. What is this early bird dad? My dad always blames his lateness on my mom and me when we have to get places, but whenever we went somewhere growing up it was always a harried rush to get out the door and then: “oh, can we stop for coffee? I should probably also get my lotto tickets, is there time for that?”
Oh man, my dad blamed our lateness on my mom, my brother, and me too! He’d always say that we took ages to get ready. It was hilarious because he was the one who took over an hour straightening his hair to perfection because heaven forbid anyone ever learn he was secretly blessed with curly locks. We’d be sitting around all ready to go while he went crazy with a blowdryer.
My dad is a Late Dad. I used to be a super-early person as a kid, but somewhere around 20 my dad’s genes kicked in and now I am a Late Person.
He once famously arrived very late to pick me up from Soviet day care. Well, this was hardly his first time picking me up when all the other kids have already gone home, but this was when all the women in the country were obsessed with a Mexican soap opera called Maria or Marianna or something. So, it is the night of the series finale. The day care assistant runs home to watch the show, the day care cook runs home to watch the show, all the kids get picked up in a very timely fashion because their moms want to run home and watch the show. And then there’s me, alone in the play room and my day care teacher pacing the room and muttering under her breath. Finally my dad arrives, completely oblivious about why she’s staring daggers into him, takes forever to put my coat and hat on, and finally we leave. On the way home he apologized to me for being so late, but I think I told him in preschool-appropriate terms that I really hated that teacher and watching her fume about missing her stories filled me with so much glee.
This is really the only time his lateness was a good thing, but it was pretty great.
You’re all the cool dad.
Subtitle: There are no cool dads, but nice try.
“We’ll listen to your stories”…for the two hours it takes you to get to the first plot point. How do dads manage to Zane Grey every single story?
“NEW Reader Poll: Is it pronounced Target or Tarjay?”
“How Many Ways Can YOU Pronounce Chipotle?”
(endless… and they are all wrong)
Oh boy. I was flipping my shit this past week in Colorado because my friend’s step-dad was SO SLOW in getting moving for the day. It’s already 11am and we’re trying to go fishing and he goes, “Oh, I just need to blow up this back rest for the tube.” NO. YOU DO NOT NEED TO DO THAT NOW. Just do it at the lake.
I kept telling my friend, “My dad would’ve had us out of here HOURS ago.”
THE FISHING CHANNEL: A New Nap Alternative to the Golf Channel
I miss the days when my dad watched/dozed to the Fishing Channel. So much more peaceful than the current yelling at baseball that happens every summer.
Christ. I just went to Long Island with my dad. What was touted to be a beach vacation — “you can kayak and hang out on the beach” — ended up being Eight Hours in the Car Everyday, Driving Past Scenes of “Stupid Shit I Did in My Teens.” Also, a two-hour (one way!) drive to the train store in Lynbrook.
People keep asking me, “how was your trip?” Instead of saying, “it was fun, but not very relaxing,” I’m just going to start replying, “DADS.”
Nobody should have to go to Lynbrook on vacation! I’m so sorry.
Driving 2 hours to a train store is pretty much peak Dad right there.
“Peak Dad.” YES.
Momento display ideas: a look inside readers’ dens
(Showcase those Jimi Hendrix posters! Build custom shelves for your fossil collection!)
Also: how to convince your family that your commemorative piece of Texas Stadium AstroTurf should be prominently displayed in the living room)
Get organized!
Find just the right place to keep all the “still good” things your family tries to throw out (Pens that need ink cartridges! The mold of your child’s teeth pre-braces! That cool piece of driftwood you brought back from the beach!)
My dad stayed with us for a week while he was up from Florida. (Full disclaimer – I live in what used to be my parents’ house.) In that week, he tacked down the rug where it met the new bathroom threshold, sanded down all the doorframes because the doors wouldn’t close due to the humidity, and weeded the entire yard.
Dads.
Yay for handy dads.
My dad gave us a toilet plunger as a house warming present when we bought our condo. It’s the best toilet plunger that I have ever owned.
My step-dad is persistently, doggedly late to everything – including his self-scheduled, self-owned place of work (how?!). I thought for years maybe I had acquired a store brand, low calorie dad… but I just realized that in her time as a single mom, my mom absorbed ALL DAD TRAITS. She loves Grisham, and we are always early for everything when she is in charge.
Could that rock be a geode? Better keep a hammer handy!
Don’t do it like this on your own: 10 not that dangerous home improvement projects to do with your children.
I have a late dad too. His headline would be: There’s always time for (insert activity of your choice).
I think some of the punctuality stuff is cultural. My dad’s part Italian and has an Italian attitude about time – which completely conflicts with my mom’s WASP attitudes. Growing up, we were always early, but not because of my dad. (Although he did buy into the get up early to get a good start on the vacation thing.)
My grandfather was Italian and my grandmother was Austrian and punctuality was a big issue in their marriage too. It drove my Gram nuts that all her children inherited the late gene. I started telling her a later time than my perpetually late uncle, just to keep the peace. And it worked.
Omar Little: Great Man Or Greatest Man?
(My dad is GODDAMN ECSTATIC that I have finally started watching The Wire, and his text-response time has gone from “days, or maybe never” to “under ten seconds if The Wire-related”.)
Food From A Truck: Pretty Great, Actually!
(Dad is really enjoying the food truck explosion here. He’s never been to Louisiana, but is ready to go hard in the paint for Where Ya At Matt’s oyster po’boys and will rhapsodize for a good ten minutes.)
Question: am I the only one who’s dad is obsessed with food photography?
My first appointment with my new GP surgery (all new patients had to see the nurse for an initial check-up) was on my second day at my new job – the job was in central London, the surgery in north London. I made the appointment for as late in the day as possible, asked my supervisor if I could leave early, and spent the journey panicked that I was going to be late. As my appointment time was fast approaching, I phoned them from the bus, panicking, saying I was five minutes away and would that be okay? The receptionist assured me it was fine. When I ran in, it turned out my boyfriend (who had the appointment before me) had got confused and was late, and just going in to his appointment then, so I had to wait for 5-10 minutes. When I went in, the nurse's opening remarks were, "We've only got a short amount of time, as you were SO LATE". She then criticized my weight. I spent the rest of the evening crying. I now try to be super early to all appointments there, just in case.
Oh man, it's a total Dad event. So many dads. I may have turned into a dad by being there.
I can't tell you how many times I have laughed HEARTILY over this. I love Toasties, they get me.