Dad, if alcohol lowers inhibitions, is there something you could drink to raise yours?

High school reunions, family portraits, holiday work parties – life is one long series of reasons you can’t do something utterly ridiculous with your hair.

You see kids, we used to have to shave with only two razor blades and a comfort strip, like fucking savages.

Half of parenting is pretending you know what you’re doing. The other half is saying no to soda.

Any Taylor Swift song, then “Gangnam Style”, then any Raffi song, then “Beat It”, then repeat, repeat, repeat, descend into madness, repeat.

I’m not saying I hold grudges, but it’s been 20 years and 9 months since my Self, Culture & Society professor mocked me in front of the class for disagreeing with his assertion that “blue balls” were a myth.

My shame at never having read Faulkner is outweighed only by my exhaustion at the prospect of reading Faulkner.

You two cut it out. You’re both right. The Beatles are awesome AND nobody ever wants to listen to The Beatles.

Yes kids, we DO have to listen to this Patty Smyth song, because it reminds me of a time in my life when the only thing in the world that I wanted was to have a girlfriend so that I could break up with her while singing “Goodbye To You”.

I don’t care if you are supposed to be Mr Zuckerman from Charlotte’s Web in the school play, no son of mine is gonna own overalls

As annoyed as I am by this 4 hour mechanical delay, I’m more annoyed that American Airlines serves Beefeater gin. What am I, a coal miner?

From now on my “sensitivity training” presentations are gonna focus more on how not to be such a sensitive little wuss.

I’d be so much less irritated if the kids would go ahead and hide both of my shoes.

All those years being a half-elf magic-user were just preparation for the eventual day that I am called upon to engage in naughty Downton Abbey role play.

This Fall Festival would be better if there were booze and sluts.

It’s so cute how my wife thinks jeans need to be washed sometimes.

My wife and I are perfect together because she’s the ultimate multi-tasker and I’m a no-tasker.

Ya’ll some Facebook-appropriate mutha f*ckas.

I think today is the day that I’m finally ready to battle Wu-Tang Clan.

My kids are out of school tomorrow so they can have parent-teacher conferences. I’d attend the parent-teacher conference, but my kids are out of school.

I think the state of our nation can be summed up by the fact that Pitbull went platinum by rhyming “Kodak” with “Kodak”

“Okay, Dad just got onto the couch. You two go wrestle each other on top of him, you spill his drink, and I’ll whine about how I can’t find the glue sticks or the construction paper. Ready? Break!”

“I know what you need: this entire bottle of cocoa butter lotion smeared on your back” – kid masseuses.

Let’s settle this like real men – by playing Madden ’93 on a Sega Genesis.

I used to want my kids to get into great universities. Now I just want them to stop touching my arm with syrup covered forks.

All I’m saying is that if Doris Kearns Goodwin was down for it, I’d be all over her.

I’ll always be there for my friends. Always. And all I ask in return is for them to provide explicit details of sex with their wives.

Some lady left me a voicemail saying they would value my expertise at an upcoming legal conference. They must be having a conference about the legal implications of dipping pita bread into hummus.