Father's Day...celebrating his royal Dadness!

Dad. Dadder. Daddio. Papa Dukes. Whatever you call that great man responsible for your being, today was his day.  To honor our Grand Poobah, the Fro Fam decided to engage in a celebratory BBQ, replete with steaks, hot dargs, salads, sides...the whole shmegegee.  The ladies were in the kitchen chopping up veggies, the men were out back on the porch gathered around the grill, grunting and scratching ourselves. It was gearing up to be quite a feast.  Which, naturally, is when the fun began.

For starters, we were unable to locate the grill tools.  So, instead of working the steaks with, say, a long-stemmed spatula and tongs like one might normally use, my improvised arsenal consisted of a fork and a pie server.  I WAS able to locate the right-hand BBQ glove, which proved most beneficial in helping me keep a healthy portion of my arm hair from singeing off due to not having longer steak-flipping utensils.  The breeze kept changing direction to blow at me no matter where I was standing, causing a seemingly constant stream of meat smoke to engulf my face at every opportunity.  Then, upon moving one of the deck chairs, we apparently disturbed a wasp who, angry that we disrupted his power nap, began darting at me like a crazed Jerry Spring guest that just found out I slept with his post-op tranny fiancee.

This, alone, would have been enough.  Which, inevitably, brings us to the grease fire.

Please do something for me.  It will only take a minute and will make you smile.  Please picture yours truly in all my grill master glory trying to extinguish a steak-borne grease fire with a dinner fork in one hand (ungloved), a pie server in the other (gloved), half blind from the smoke with sweat pouring down my face while being chased around the porch by an irate hornet.

Are you smiling yet?

Aside from the unwarrantedly vicious insect attack and almost burning down the porch and my brother, it was a lovely meal and Dad had a great Father's Day.  I made sure I thanked him for all he has done for me and the family and how I hope to be the same kind of father to my children that he was and still is to me.  And, of course, I fist-bumped him for his part in creating me.  Yeah Dad...you sly dog you...

Happy Father's Day, Dads of the World!  We love ya, ya big lugs.