One day? Sure. Maybe when I’m ready to give up Thursday night blackouts after the podcast. What excites me about being a father? It’s simple. Having a beer fridge in the garage.
Can you even call yourself a dad if you don’t have a fridge in the garage? Can you call yourself a “real man” (Borat voice) if you don’t have a beer fridge in your garage? I have a dilemma as I don’t want to live in the suburbs, but want a garage. So I’ll just have to make enough money to buy a house in the city with a garage so I can have a beer fridge in there. The fridge will be covered with magnets like old beer logos, and bottle openers bought from airports during my world travels. Nobody touches the beer fridge. There will be a padlock on it. It will be stocked with all kinds of beer and other shit a dad drinks like Coca-Cola and Sunny Delight for Saturday morning screwdrivers by myself.
I’ll have a grill (I can cook really well), and the grill will just add to my dadliness. I’ll have the industrial strength grill utensils too in case I need to stab someone trying to murder me or steal my beer.
There will be a stereo of some sort near it that barely spits out AM sports talk radio.
When you have a beer fridge you have to fill it with beer fridge beers. You can’t fill this thing with Summer Shandy. It needs to be filled with the kinds of beer that grows hair on your body from the testosterone spike. The kind of beer that tastes like someone mixed liquid aluminum with melted tires. I’m talking bootleg Red Dog, Stroh’s, and Schlitz. I’ll drink them alone, listen to Chris Stapleton, and complain about the world, “Fucking people these days. No respect.”
It can’t be a nice fridge either. None of this glass door bullshit. Nothing with electronic settings. Has to be the freezer-top style. It has to be an off-white color because you bought if from someone on Craigslist who’s been chain smoking Marlboro Reds in front of it for 44 years. This rustic cream color was earned from the cigarette chemicals. That’s what makes a good beer fridge.
The freezer will be saved for tequila and vodka and dead animals you’ll cook on your grill (see above).
The beer fridge is your oasis in a world of negativity. It doesn’t make you a better dad. No, no, my friend. The beer fridge makes you THE dad. Every neighboring man is a pauper. You’re the talk of every dinner table on the block. You literally don’t even have to have kids – everyone will just assume you do, and that they’re out winning state Pop Warner titles.
You’re the baddest mother fucker on the block.
God Bless the beer fridge.
Whiskey Riff is the most entertaining country site…ever.