Just When You Think You’ve Seen It All

Every day, people send in photos of things they think might be appropriate for this blog. I get pictures of good tips and bad tips and I get pictures of people making out in booths and of servers committing acts of horseplay in the walk-in. Every now and then, a photo pops up in my email that stops me in my tracks. This is that photo:

Father of the Year

Father of the Year

I don’t know where or when it was taken; all I know is that it is absolutely wrong, disgusting, vomit-inducing and makes me question humanity as a whole. From what I can tell, and I’m no expert at photo-forensics, it appears that some father thought it was perfectly acceptable to let his kid take a fucking piss in a plastic cup in the middle of a goddamn restaurant. Meanwhile, mom is sitting there eating her Combo #2 Meal and trying to remember when was the last time she gave a fuck. Perhaps this photo was taken in another country where peeing into a plastic cup is the norm. If anyone knows what country that might be, please let me know so I can be sure to scratch it off of my “Places To Go Before I Die List.” No one else in the picture is noticing what is going on but whoever took the photo thought it was unusual enough to merit a quick snap on their iPhone. I didn’t bother blurring out the faces because I sorta feel like if you’re good with letting your kid pee into a cup at a restaurant, you probably don’t give a shit anyway.

The photo brings a few questions to mind:

  • Does this restaurant not have a restroom?
  • What is the dad going to do with that cup of piss when the kid is finished urinating in it?
  • Will I ever be as cool as this kid is and be able to master the “Fuck it, I’m just peeing into a cup with my hand on my hip” stance he has so perfected?
  • Is this what the restaurant means when they advertise free refills?
  • Where might I find that cute little red plaid sweater vest number?
  • If the boy needed to do a #2, would he need to use a to-go box?
  • What the fuck is wrong with people?

Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset. All we ask is that you let us not have to watch your fucking kid pee in the dining room.

Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go wash my eyeballs out with Purell and try to erase this image from my thoughts by drinking straight grain alcohol and napping for three hours.




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