Justin Halpern - More Sh*t My Dad Says

By the time I stumbled through the large black double doors of Foreign Cinema, sweat was starting to drip down my face, which must have looked particularly alarming since it was a cool fifty degrees outside. A young pale-faced hostess with long black bangs asked, “Can I help you?” the way you ask someone who you hope will turn around and leave.

“Hi. I’m supposed to ask someone to marry me?” I said.

“Uh, okay…”

“Sorry—I mean, I have a reservation, I think. Or I should…”

“Oh wait, are you Justin?” said a friendlier coworker from behind the bar.

“Yes,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow.

“Come this way,” she said. She led me through a crowded outdoor dining area, packed with dozens of customers enjoying eggs benedict, waffles, and bloody marys, and into a plaster-walled room that looked like a miniature art gallery. It was empty, save for one corner where three waiters stood in front of a wooden counter folding napkins and chatting. She grabbed a wooden chair and placed it in the exact center of the empty room, as if it were a piece of art on display.

“Okay, good luck!” she said, then walked away.

I sat down on the chair in the center of the room with the waiters staring at me and looked at my phone. It was 10:20. I noticed that my phone hand was trembling. I knew I was being irrational. This was Amanda, the girl who once told me, “You are my Brad Pitt. And not the weird Brad Pitt when he grew a long beard for some reason.” If I could just think of something to say to her, maybe I could calm myself down.

“Okay,” I thought, “when she walks in, I’m definitely not gonna get down on one knee and say a bunch of really clichéd things. Amanda hates that stuff as much as I do. I’m just going to walk up to her and tell her exactly how I feel, and how much she means to me, and then ask her if she’ll marry me. Then, if she says no, I’ll be standing on my own two feet, and I’ll be able to walk right out of the restaurant, head held high.”

Then I heard voices. I looked up and saw Amanda’s friend Madeleine walk into the room, followed by Amanda, who was wearing a lime-green dress that clung to her body. She entered the room, looked right at me, looked away as if she hadn’t seen me. “Why can’t we just wait for the table by—oh my God!” she said, turning back to me.

All my plans to stay standing were forgotten. I dropped onto one knee, wrestled the ring box from my pocket, and spluttered, “Will you marry me I love you.”

“Yes,” Amanda said, bursting into tears.

She was still standing about four feet away from me. I got up, approached her, and gave her a kiss. She hugged me and shoved her face into my chest.

“You’re really sweaty,” she said, laughing as tears streamed down her face.

All the insanity and neuroses that had engulfed my brain washed away. I had a smile so big it seemed impossible, as if I were the guy in an ad for the state lottery and I was holding the winning ticket.

After a minute she finally let go of me, stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed me again. Then I gave her friend Madeleine a hug, as well as the hostess who came to seat us, even though she looked like she didn’t necessarily want one.

Before we sat down, Amanda wanted to call her parents, and I decided to call mine as well.

“Hello?” I heard my dad say.

“It’s Justin,” I said.

“Oh, hey, son. What’s happening?”

“I did it,” I said.

“You did what?” he asked.

“I proposed to Amanda. She said yes,” I replied.

“Well hot damn! Good for you, son. Congratulations. Glad it all worked out. You looked a little nervous this morning. Thought your balls were gonna run up in your asshole for a minute there,” he said.

“They almost did.”

“Well, good to hear. You now have someone else to drive batshit crazy besides me. Welcome to married life, son.”

This book would not be possible without the support of so many of my friends. For my friends who appeared in the book, thank you for spending way too much time helping me remember exactly what happened. There’s no way I could have filled in all the details without the help of Ryan Walter, Danny Phin, Aaron Estrada, and Jeff Cleator.

Thank you to my father, who read every chapter before anyone else, and let me know when he found things to be “fucking silly.” Thank you to my mom and my brothers, Dan, Evan, and Jose, for constantly supporting me throughout the process.

Thanks also to a number of my friends who were always there for me, whether it was to read a draft or just talk through a problem: Cory Jones, Lindsay Goldenberg, Patrick Schumacker, Brian Warner, Brian Huntington, Robert Chafino, Mike Lisbe, Nate Reger, Katie Des Londes, Laura Moran, Brendan Darby, Zack Rosenblatt, Dan Rubin, Lon Zimmet, Robin Shorr, Heather Hicks, Jason Ervin, Casey Phin, Greg Szalay, Scott Satenspiel, George Collins, Chris Von Goetz, and Madeleine Amodeo, and a super-special thank you to Byrd Leavell, who is amazing. Thank you to my editor at HarperCollins, Calvert Morgan, who cleaned up all of my bad habits, and to the rest of the HarperCollins team, Kevin Callahan, Michael Barrs, and Heidi Metcalfe.

Thank you to Kate Hamill, who has been editing every word of this book for the last two years. She is unbelievably talented and tireless, and is responsible for making this book something I could be proud of. I could not have gone through this process without her.

Finally, thank you to my wife, Amanda. She’s the best partner I could ever have hoped for, and without her, I wouldn’t even have wanted to write this book. Amanda, thank you for letting me drive you insane while I wrote this. Just remember, even when I’m old and decrepit, I’ll always bring you a glass of water before bed. I love you.

JUSTIN HALPERN is the founding editor of the comedy website HolyTaco.comand was a senior writer at Maxim.com. In 2009, Halpern created the Twitter page @sh*tmydadsays, which now boasts over three million followers. He co-created and produced a sitcom adaptation for CBS, and has served as a writer on other television series. He splits his time between Los Angeles and San Diego, with his wife Amanda.

‘Sam Halpern is an astonishing, forceful, no-nonsense armchair philosopher who, in spite of a great education and a career as an esteemed oncologist, swears like a navvy… Funny, silly, honest, lively and fresh’

‘ Sh*t My Dad Says captures the awkward formative moments between father and son – the hangovers, the first break-up, sex education… In many ways Halpern Snr is the voice of reason in a world where we spend too long pussy-footing around, fearful of creating offence’

‘You will roar with laughter’

‘Ridiculously hilarious’

‘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’

Sh*t My Dad Says

First published 2012 as I Suck at Girls by Macmillan

First published in paperback 2013 as More Sh*t My Dad Says by Pan Books