Father of the Year

So, I saw a FOTY today. That acronym stands for Father of the Year. He was bringing his two daughters on Saturday morning errands. Coffee, dance class, and Target.  He was really good with his girls, too. Except that part where he was telling EVERYONE that he had the girls by himself for the weekend while his wife was away.

Awww, snap.  I forgot my cone-shaped hat, and the candle for his Pity Party cake.

I wanted to be like "awww, look at the dad with his kids doing all these Saturday morning errands," but then I was like "waiiiit.  Do I feel the same way when I run into his wife EVERY OTHER DAMN SATURDAY? And, is he saying "aww, look at that lady (who should really consider a baseball cap when her hair looks like that) traipsing her little lovelies around this morning" about me? Nope. Although, in his defense, I should have worn a cap.

Sorry dude. I am not making eye contact with you while you are on your quest for guests at your pity party.   So, FOTY, get a table for one for your party. Actually, get a table for 3, your daughters look hungry.