Sh*t My Dad Says by Justin Halpern

After being dumped by his longtime girlfriend, twenty-eight-year-old Justin Halpern found himself living at home with his seventy-three-year-old dad. Sam Halpern, who is like Socrates, but angrier, and with worse hair, has never minced words, and when Justin moved back home, he began to record all the ridiculous things his dad said to him: That woman was sexy. . . . Out of your league? Son, let women figure out why they won't screw you. Don't do it for them. Do people your age know how to comb their hair? It looks like two squirrels crawled on their heads and started fucking. The worst thing you can be is a liar. . . . Okay, fine, yes, the worst thing you can be is a Nazi, but then number two is liar. Nazi one, liar two. More than a million people now follow Mr. Halpern's philosophical musings on Twitter, and in this book, his son weaves a brilliantly funny, touching coming-of-age memoir around the best of his quotes. An all-American story that unfolds on the Little League field, in Denny's, during excruciating family road trips, and, most frequently, in the Halperns' kitchen over bowls of Grape-Nuts, Sh*t My Dad Says is a chaotic, hilarious, true portrait of a father-son relationship from a major new comic voice. Editorial Reviews Amazon.com Review Photographs from Sh*t My Dad Says (Click on Thumbnails to Enlarge) I have no idea why I'm sopping wet in this photo, but I'm going to guess it's because I rolled in something filthy or spilled something on myself. Hosing me down was my dad's favorite method for cleaning me off. Here I am with my dad in his garden, which he adores and whose upkeep he takes very seriously. It's my first love, besides your mother and horse racing. And you and your brothers, too, I suppose, he's said. My dad used to carry me on his shoulders quite a bit when I was a child--until the time I accidentally urinated on him while I was up there. We were at a neighbor's house and he quickly ran outside, threw me off, ripped off his shirt, then hosed me down like he was from the CDC and I'd come in contact with the Ebola Virus. My dad is an avid reader, and all throughout my childhood he'd come home after working for 12 hours and we'd sit on the couch and read together. My family's trip to the Grand Canyon in 1983 was one of only two family vacations we took. It coincided with the time when my dad started to lose his hair, and decided he'd wear hats to mask his increasing baldness. It wasn't long before he changed his tune, tossed the caps, and decided he didn't care what anyone else thought. Review Sh*t My Dad Says is f______ great!...Very funny, very irreverent, very real. It's refreshing at a time when we're all choking to death on political correctness and can go for days without meeting a single person with common sense. - Janet Evanovich, Time Magazine This book is ridiculously hilarious, and makes my father look like a normal member of society. - Chelsea Handler Shoot-beer-out-your-nose funny. - Maxim A fun gift book that is bound to crack up anyone who flips through it. - Los Angeles Times If you're wondering if there is a real man behind the quotes on Twitter, the answer is a definite and laugh-out-loud yes. - Christian Lander, New York Times bestselling author of Stuff White People Like Read this unless you're allergic to laughing. - Kristen Bell Justin Halpern tosses lightning bolts of laughter out of his pocket like he is shooting dice in a back alley. In one sweep of a paragraph, he ranges from hysterical to disgusting to touching?and does it all seamlessly. Sh*t My Dad Says is a really, really funny book. - Laurie Notaro, New York Times bestselling author of The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club Justin Halpern's dad is up there with Aristotle and Winston F*cking Churchill. He's brilliant, and his son's book is absolutely hilarious. - A.J. Jacobs, New York Times bestselling author of The Know-It-All From the Back Cover After being dumped by his longtime girlfriend, twenty-eight-year-old Justin Halpern found himself living at home with his seventy-three-year-old dad. Sam Halpern, who is like Socrates, but angrier, and with worse hair, has never minced words, and when Justin moved back home, he began to record all the ridiculous things his dad said to him: That woman was sexy. . . . Out of your league? Son, let women figure out why they won't screw you. Don't do it for them. Do people your age know how to comb their hair? It looks like two squirrels crawled on their heads and started fucking. The worst thing you can be is a liar. . . . Okay, fine, yes, the worst thing you can be is a Nazi, but then number two is liar. Nazi one, liar two. More than a million people now follow Mr. Halpern's philosophical musings on Twitter, and in this book, his son weaves a brilliantly funny, touching coming-of-age memoir around the best of his quotes. An all-American story that unfolds on the Little League field, in Denny's, during excruciating family road trips, and, most frequently, in the Halperns' kitchen over bowls of Grape-Nuts, Sh*t My Dad Says is a chaotic, hilarious, true portrait of a father-son relationship from a major new comic voice. About the Author Justin Halpern is the author of the #1 New York Times bestseller Sh*t My Dad Says, inspired by his massively popular Twitter feed. SPOILER ALERT: He lives with his wife in Los Angeles. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Shit My Father Says By Justin Halpern HarperCollins Copyright © 2010 Justin Halpern All right reserved. ISBN: 978-0-06-199270-4 Chapter One ?Well, what the fuck makes you think Grandpa wants to sleep in the same room as you?? In the summer of 1987, when I was six years old, my cousin got married on a farm in Washington State. My family lived in San Diego, and my dad decided there was no way he was paying a thousand dollars for himself, my mother, my two brothers, and me to fly up the coast. ?Why am I going to pay two hundred dollars so a six-year-old can see a wedding?? he said to my mother. ?You think that?s a moment Justin cares about? Two years ago he was still shitting in his pants. If everyone has to go, we?re driving.? And so we did. I squished in between my two older brothers? Dan, who was sixteen at the time, and Evan, fourteen and gangly? in the backseat of our ?82 Thunderbird. My mom rode shotgun, and my dad took the wheel as we began the 1,800-mile trip up to Washington. We made it about four miles before my brothers and I started tormenting one another, which mostly consisted of them hitting me and saying stuff like, ?How come you?re sitting like a gay? I bet it?s ?cause you?re a gay.? My dad dramatically swerved off to the side of the road, tires squealing in our wake, and whipped his head around to the three of us. ?You listen to me. I?m not going to deal with any of your bullshit, understand? We will all behave like human fucking beings.? But we didn?t. There was no way we could have. This wasn?t a situation that ?human fucking beings? were built for. We were five people, three of us males under the age of seventeen, sitting a half-inch from one another for sixteen hours a day as the seemingly endless highway inched by. This was not a normal sightseeing family vacation. It was like we were running from the law: We drove all day and all night, growing more and more sweaty and on edge by the hour, with my dad regularly making desperate comments to himself like, ?We just gotta fucking get there, it can?t be that much farther.? More than a day and a half later, after twenty-four hours of driving, we made it to Olympia, Washington, where we met our extended family in the lobby of a hotel. In total, about sixty of us Halperns were staying there, including my ninety-year-old grandpa, my dad?s father. A quiet but tough guy, he hated when people made a big deal about him. He had run a tobacco farm in Kentucky until he was seventy- five, and just because he was older now, he wasn?t about to start accepting help where, in his opinion, it wasn?t necessary. My family had reserved a block of hotel rooms, each to be shared by two people, but no one had been assigned to a specific room yet. My brothers quickly decided they would share a room with each other, and my mom and dad would obviously share one, which left me without a partner. For some reason, all my adult relatives thought ?it would just be so cute? if I shared a room with Grandpa. Grandpa had stayed with us in San Diego before, and I remembered that he always kept a bottle of Wild Turkey in his room, and would clandestinely take a swig from time to time. Once when my brother Dan caught him in the act, Grandpa shouted ?You got me!? and then laughed hysterically. I also remembered that he needed help getting out of bed but got really angry when anyone tried to assist him. There was no way I wanted to share a room with Grandpa, but I kept my concerns to myself because I figured my family would hate me for being so unfriendly. So, like any six-year-old who doesn?t want to do something, I faked being sick, which attracted a lot more attention to me. Upon hearing that I wasn?t feeling well, my aunts hurried me down the carpeted hallway to my parents? room and burst into it like it was an episode of ER. ?Okay, everyone calm down, goddamn it. Now leave, so I can check out the boy,? my dad shouted. My aunts cleared out, leaving the two of us alone. He looked me in the eye and felt my forehead with his hand. ?You say you?re sick, huh? Well, it looks like you?ve come down with a case of bullshit. You ain?t sick. What?s the problem here? We just drove a goddamned continent, and I?m tired. Spit it out.? ?Everybody wants me to share a room with Grandpa, but I don?t want to,? I replied. ?Well, what the fuck makes you think Grandpa wants to sleep in the same room as you?? I hadn?t thought about that. ?I don?t know.? ?Well, let?s go ask him.? We walked down the hallway to the room Grandpa had staked out. He was busy getting ready for bed. ?Look here, Dad. Justin doesn?t want to share a room with you. What do you think about that?? I cowered behind my dad?s leg, as he kept shoving me away toward my grandfather to make me face him. Grandpa looked me in the eye for a second. ?Well, I don?t want to share a room with him, neither. I want my own room,? he said. My dad turned and looked at me like he had just uncovered the missing clue in a murder case. ?There you have it,? he said. ?Apparently you?re no goddamned peach, either.? ?You are four years old. You have to shit in the toilet. This is not one of those negotiations where we?ll go back and forth and find a middle ground. This ends with you shitting in a toilet.? On My First Day of Kindergarten ?You thought it was hard? If kindergarten is busting your ass, I got some bad news for you about the rest of life.? On Accidents ?I don?t give a shit how it happened, the window is broken. . . . Wait, why is there syrup everywhere? Okay, you know what? Now I give a shit how it happened. Let?s hear it.? On My Seventh Birthday Party ?No, you can?t have a bouncy house at your birthday party. . . . What do you mean why? Have you ever thought to yourself, where would I put a god- damned bouncy house in our backyard? . . . Yeah, that?s right, that?s the kind of shit I think about, that you just think magically appears.? On Talking to Strangers ?Listen up, if someone is being nice to you, and you don?t know them, run away. No one is nice to you just to be nice to you, and if they are, well, they can go take their pleasant ass somewhere else.? On Table Manners ?Jesus Christ, can we have one dinner where you don?t spill something? . . . No, Joni, he does do it on purpose, because if he doesn?t, that means he?s just mentally handicapped, and none of the tests showed that.? On Crying ?I had no problem with you crying. My only concern was with the snot that was coming out of your nose. Where does that go? On your hands, your shirt? That?s no good. Oh, Jesus, don?t start crying.? On Spending the Night at a Friend?s House for the First Time ?Try not to piss yourself.? On Being Teased ?So he called you a homo. Big deal. There?s nothing wrong with being a homosexual. No, I?m not saying you?re a homosexual. Jesus Christ. Now I?m starting to see why this kid was giving you shit.? On Feeling Comfortable in One?s Own Skin ?It?s my house. I?ll wear clothes when I want to wear clothes, and I?ll be naked when I want to be naked. The fact that your friends are coming over shortly is inconsequential to that?aka I don?t give a shit.? (Continues...) Excerpted from Shit My Father Saysby Justin Halpern Copyright © 2010 by Justin Halpern. Excerpted by permission of HarperCollins. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.