A suburban mother of three recently happened upon what scientists and physicists alike are hailing as the most significant discovery of our time. The mother, who prefers her identity be withheld, was trying to do it all when she found man’s hidden, secret universe. The Dad Dimension.
This is her story.
My husband had been out of town for over a week, and I usually leave the yard work to him, due to my allergies, but I could no longer stomach my kids playing in what was starting to resemble a Vietnamese elephant grass field. I expected to have some difficulty; he stays in the yard all day and gets surprisingly little done. Often he can’t get the mower to crank, so I was quite surprised when I got it on the first try.
I thought it was beginners luck, but as it turns out, I mowed our 15-acre lawn in ten minutes without any trouble at all.
Confused, I decided to try my hand at the shrubs. To my surprise, I crafted topiaries that rivaled Walt Disney World in 20 minutes time! The woman hung her head in shame and let out a sigh. I have to admit, after discovering my husband had been lying to me all this time regarding the level of difficulty of these tasks, I let go of a few four-letter words-which must have been some secret code because immediately I felt myself getting lightheaded and dizzy. I shut my eyes, and when I opened them up, I was in another dimension.
It is a dimension as vast as space, full of gas, one-liners, and that’s what she said jokes. This is the dimension of entitled men, sports fanatics, selfish douche canoes, and know it all pricks. It is an area we call the Dad Dimension.
It was full of pot-bellied Dads on their riding lawnmowers. But instead of lawns, they were on this weird sidewalk that ran back and forth from, and I know this sounds crazy, a Joe’s Crab Shack and a Hooters. It was kind of like a people mover at an airport, but for Dad’s on their John Deere’s. The Joe’s had a couple of drive-in movie size screens showing Old School and one of those Adam Sandler movies. I always get those confused. Of course, the Hooters there did what Hooters does best; broadcasted the game and the consequences of poor life choices.
Anyway, the men were all still dressed like dads doing yard work; ridiculous hats, khaki cut-off shorts with frayed bottoms, ugly, pit-stained T-shirts, some with no shirts at all, and crocs. Some were drinking, too. Not the hard stuff; the Dad stuff like craft beer and Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I must have been invisible because none of them noticed I was there. They were too preoccupied with spicy wings and Will Ferrell, and they all seemed to know each other. Almost like they were regulars. I know it sounds crazy, but I know I was in another place in time.
Oh! Oh! Before I forget, they had an excuse office! Between the crab shack and Hooters, there was a reception area where I saw a couple of the mowers parked, so I snooped around. They were practicing what they would say to their wives in case they were asked any questions! One poor guy, apparently a newlywed, screwed up and told the truth, and set off all kinds of alarms.
Code Red. Code Red.
He’s still whipped!
All sorts of men went running in. Men who, trust me here, had no business running without their shirts on. I feared for the man for a second, but nothing happened except that an official looking man handed him a binder. Official Dad explained to Whipped Dad how he must memorize everything in the notebook if he ever wanted to come back to the Dad Dimension. The binder contained the acceptable excuse document-a list of plausible reasons men may disappear into the yard yet get nothing done. I managed to sneak a look at it.
Dad Dimension Excuse List
The lawnmower wouldn’t crank so I had to go find “my guy” and talk to him about it
“My guy” lives an hour away
There was an unbelievable snakeskin, so I did some investigating & that led me to do more investigating & so on. I’m protecting the family against snakes!
Vicious wasp nests forced me to drive to the store & purchase spray to eradicate them before I made any other outdoor moves. (Also known as the due diligence excuse)
The mower ran out of gas, so I had to go to the gas station and buy beer
I got gas from the pizza I bought at the gas station & had to stop & it took me a while to get going again
The Switch It Up: As in, if your wife starts to question you, switch it up on her. Ask her if she thinks you’d be sweating outside for hours on end if you didn’t have to? This excuse came with statistics: Works 80% of the time. 90% if used with fake sweat method which involves pouring a bucket of water over your head
Fake Sweat/Complain: Pour bottled water on yourself before re-entering home, then groan about how hot it is outside
The more I heard, the angrier I became, but I started to hear voices in the distance. My children. Then something happened, and I got dizzy again. Their voices must have brought me back.
The mother has been interviewed hundreds of times as has her husband who has now hired a service to mow the yard at their new (much bigger & nicer) home. Which may have been purchased as a peace offering.