Entirely true things about my DadVolume 2: The Early Years

My dad is fricking awesome.

He grew up in this little farm town outside of Bucharest, Romania and was the absolute coolest person there. Here's proof.

While all the other little Romanian kids were running around complaining about poverty or something, my dad studied the art of being cool. First step? Smoking. Money was pretty scarce, so they'd sell cigs individually at drug stores. My dad bought 'em whenever he could with money from his kick-ass job.

Wanna know what his kick-ass job was? Mechanic. Yup. From the age of 16, my dad worked in an auto shop and learned how to fix cars and shit. And then, when he'd all be finished fixing a motorcycle or something, he would ride it all around the town. My dad was the only 16-year-old in town who rode motorcycles and smoked cigarettes. This pretty much laid the groundwork for him being a huge chick magnet.

Guess what he else did in that town. SOLVED CRIMES. I swear to God, my dad was a cigarette-smoking, motorcycle-riding mechanic who fought crime. I'm not telling a lie. I'm telling the truth. Here's a true story.

True Story About My Dad Solving Crimes

Everybody's house in the town had little farms and stuff, but most of them didn't produce much farm stuff. At my dad's house, though, they had a few chickens. So they always had enough eggs to eat and whatnot. But the other fricking kids in the town, they'd try to steal their eggs. This really upset my dad's mom, which was a BIG MISTAKE.

My dad was determined to track down the egg thieves. But they were sneaky bastards. They'd creep into the chicken coop or whatever and shove a bunch of eggs into their pockets, and then they'd run off to where other people were hanging out in order to blend in with non-egg-stealing-bastards. But then one time my Dad heard them running away from the house, so he followed them into town.

My dad grabbed a bunch of people and lined them up, and he said, "I know some of you are stealing my eggs." Everybody denied it and tried to act all cool, but that didn't work. 'Cause my dad went down the line, punching everybody right in their pants pockets. Eventually, he hit egg. Bingo. The eggs splattered all up in the thieves pants, totally ruining their pants. Back then, pants were scarce, so this was serious punishment. The egg thieves never returned.

Bam. My dad fricking rox.

Also, today's his birthday.