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Father's Day Rag
posted Wednesday, 22 June 2005
A few weeks ago on a family outing we drove past a van selling wares on a vacant street corner. It looked a tad seedy and had a large banner saying, "Do-Rags $5.00" I turned to the wife and daughter and said, "That's what I need. That way I could fit in with my homies." They both rolled their eyes as they normally do whenever I speak and the conversation was forgotten.
On Father's day I opened my daughters' gift to find a do-rag. After ten minutes of tugging I figured out how to put it on and struck a manly pose. My wife and daughter were howling with laughter so I looked in the mirror. No wonder, I looked like a fat, gay pirate. My wife stopped laughing long enough to explain that on me it was a don't-rag and then my daughter said it was a do-do-rag. I was not about to be dissuaded from my gangsta ways so I proudly wore my do-rag around the house as I got some chores done.
As the day went on my wife would gently remind me that is wasn't gangsta to play Salt Creek on the banjo or online chess but I persevered. After a few hours I looked in the mirror and was shocked to see my grandmother looking back. The do-rag had moved sufficently that it now resembled a babushka.
Later in the day my daughter made me promise that I would never wear the do-rag outside the house as she has a reputation to maintain. I've decided the only time I will wear my do-rag is when I make goulash.
On Father's day I opened my daughters' gift to find a do-rag. After ten minutes of tugging I figured out how to put it on and struck a manly pose. My wife and daughter were howling with laughter so I looked in the mirror. No wonder, I looked like a fat, gay pirate. My wife stopped laughing long enough to explain that on me it was a don't-rag and then my daughter said it was a do-do-rag. I was not about to be dissuaded from my gangsta ways so I proudly wore my do-rag around the house as I got some chores done.
As the day went on my wife would gently remind me that is wasn't gangsta to play Salt Creek on the banjo or online chess but I persevered. After a few hours I looked in the mirror and was shocked to see my grandmother looking back. The do-rag had moved sufficently that it now resembled a babushka.
Later in the day my daughter made me promise that I would never wear the do-rag outside the house as she has a reputation to maintain. I've decided the only time I will wear my do-rag is when I make goulash.
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