few minutes later we pulled up to the tan one-story government building, which looked like the place where happiness went to die. Like most sensible Americans, my dad hates the DMV, and when we entered the lobby to find it packed to the gills with sweaty, tired, impatient people, he started nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot and biting his fingernails.
“Look at this fucking place. Everyone smells like dog shit, standing around like they’re in Russia waiting for a loaf of fucking bread. Why the fuck ma I here? You’re the one taking the test.” A minute later: “That’s it. I can’t do this. You’re on your own,” and just like that he took off for the exit. Before I could even respond he was sitting on a bench outside, reading the paper (p 51).
After reading Halpern’s hilarious Sh*t My Dad Says, I was eager to get my hands on I Suck at Girls. I wasn’t disappointed. In his quest to understand the opposite sex, Halpern has many misadventures. Reliving awkward moments from pre-adolescence to sexual forays in adulthood, his history provides many laughs. Once again, though, his father steals the show with his blunt wisdom delivered with a toddy in hand.