Life Lessons From my Ten Year Old: Why I Should Totally Marry Joe Dirt

So, yeah, it's been awhile since my last, and first blog post. I'm trying to make it a habit, but my other cool hobbies, like sleeping and Minecraft PE really cut into my down time. I've actually started on about ten different topics, and will get around to posting them all eventually, but this particular subject just felt kind of important to me today.

First off, if you've never seen / don't remember the Academy Award nominee for best movie EVAR, "Joe Dirt", this is the main character:

I like Van Halen, NOT Van Hagaar

The story is about a white trash loser named Joe Dirt who's life is a series of strange and disgusting misadventures that revolve around his attempt to reunite with his asshole parents who abandoned him in a trash can at the Grand Canyon. The whole movie is pretty much one giant slap-stick, gross-out joke that seems to be a bunch of strung-together anecdotes told by one of those creepy dudes who hangs out in front of the liquor store. Ya know, the kind of things most little boys find hilarious and that Mom's only tolerate because it means we can quietly scroll through Pinterest while the kid laughs at some moron who mistakes a frozen ball of turds for a meteorite.

That's a space peanut...

That's right, my kid thinks I should marry a guy just like this. Here's how that conversation went down:

         The boy: " You know,my favorite part in Joe Dirt is when Brandi tells him that she loves him
                            and wants to have a bunch of little Joe Dirts. "
     
                 Me:  * Makes face * " Ew..."

         The boy:   " Why do you say that?"

                 Me:  " Because I just pictured a bunch of little dirty babies running around in              
                            greasy mullet wigs trying to wrassle gators and blow things up with
                            firecrackers?"
         
          The boy:  " So what's wrong with that?"

                  Me:  *Eye roll...continues to silently play Minecraft*

           The boy: * Exasperated* " He's a good guy! What's wrong with him?"
                  
                    Me:  * Laughing* " Well, that godawful wig, for starters..."
 
           The boy: * More exasperated* " So you would judge a guy who says things like 'you can't
                              have no in your heart' based on his haircut?!

                    Me: * Well, shit...* " Uh, no, because that would be wrong?"

           The boy: * Even MORE exasperated* " Well, don't you think you're being a little
                              insensitive?"


Joe Dirt and my ten year old have taught me something important- I'm kind of a snob. I thought I was pretty open-minded. I try not to judge a person based on their appearance or seeming lack of intelligence and/or social skills, but apparently I have failed spectacularly. I kind of actually feel like an asshole for refusing to even entertain the idea of dating a real life Joe Dirt.

The thing is, I think most people would agree that grown men who like to shoot Roman candles at aluminum tubs full of gasoline are probably NOT a first choice of life mate. That's pretty much just evolution at work. However, my son has just imparted a little wisdom to me and taught me that maybe I don't have to be such an asshat about it. It's gonna be hard, I can't lie. I don't see through the eyes of a child who's judgment of others is unfiltered by prejudice . Where  I see a hilarious candidate for the Darwin Award, he sees a good guy who's maybe just a little misunderstood, and when it comes right down to it, I'm tremendously proud that I somehow managed to raise a person who is much, MUCH kinder than me.

Does this mean I've completely turned over a new leaf, and will begin immediately searching the back woods for a Joe Dirt of my very own? Probably not. I mean, don't get me wrong; if you're rocking a mullet because your one true love once told you that you look like Billy Ray Cyrus, and you took that as a compliment, well, you do you. I'm certainly no paragon of feminine perfection, but we all have to draw the line somewhere...



Kicking Wing, on the other hand...