Read Online Bootleg by Damon Wayans with David Asbery - Free Book Online
Authors: Damon Wayans with David Asbery
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glue, and I was like, “What the fuck is this shit? Who the fuck put this shit on the toilet?”
My two-year-old daughter picked right up on this: “Fucking shit. Fucking shit is fucking shit … fuck this shit.”
“Baby, don’t talk like that,” I said. “Daddy’s sorry he said those bad words.”
“Fuck that shit,” was her reply. I’m glad my wife wasn’t around.
I couldn’t get mad at my son because it was kind of funny. I mean, I’m a comedian, and there’s a rule in my house: If it’s funny, you’re not in trouble. The most I can say is, “Boy, work on your timing.” If she got stuck on the bowl I would have had to laugh. Her behind is only the size of two nickels, so she has to hold onto the toilet seat to keep from falling in. Which means she would’ve got stuck hands and ass to the bowl. I would’ve had to take the whole toilet seat off and put that in the car like it’s a car seat. Then, drive her to the hospital and I guess, throw her to the doctor like a Frisbee. He would’ve looked on in horror as she spun toward him saying, “Fucking shit. Fuck that shit. The fucking shit.”
Laying Down the Rules
T he greatest compliment to me as a father is when people like my kids. That makes me feel good. All the sacrifice and hard work is paying off. It would make me sick if people were talking bad about my kids, saying things like, “Oh, those damn Wayans boys are just trouble. They don’t get any love at home. Just look at them playing in the traffic like that. It’s a damn shame. Their parents need to be shot.”
I believe as a parent you have to lay down rules and live by them yourself. I knew kids when I was growing up that could steal stuff and bring it home. My friend had a room full of stereo equipment that wasn’t his and his mother would be in his room jamming to the music, saying, “Oh, baby, this is my song! Pee Wee, turn up the sound!”
I used to think to myself, “Damn, that stereo is stolen. And I know it’s stolen because I helped steal it.” That didn’t happen in my house. If you didn’t have a receipt, or couldn’t justify where you got the money to buy the equipment, it didn’t get past the front door. Being poor, we needed some of that stolen stuff, but there was no way I could bring it inthe house. That taught me to work hard and appreciate the things I had. It kept me from being spoiled.
That’s the worst thing you can do: spoil your kids. Take the Menendez brothers. Remember them? They killed their parents. How do you shoot your own mother and father? Apparently, there wasn’t a lot of love in that house. But I think that a kid should understand that if you bring them into the world they have an obligation to, at least, let you live. I mean, parents feed you and clothe you. And I bet Mr. Menendez was the one who bought his sons their first guns. But they probably took it all for granted.
Thank God those boys are in jail. That’s where they need to be. It’s unfortunate for them that they didn’t go to prison for killing their parents for no reason, because they would have gotten a lot of respect for that. Nobody would’ve messed with them. But they put it out in the trial that the father was molesting them. Now, that’s the kind of stuff they want to hear about you when you’re in prison. Bubba is gonna have them bent over with a girlie magazine on their backs, saying, “Just call me Daddy. I’m gonna make it feel like home.”
You’re the Proud Parents of a Baby Girl Named Monica
I feel sorry for the parents of Monica Lewinsky. I mean all those years of sacrificing, nurturing, and caring for their baby girl. All those late nights at the hospital, putting her through private school, and making sure that she feels loved and protected in the world. After all of that you end up being known as, “The Parents Who Raised the Ho.”
It must hurt. I bet that before all of this happened Monica’s parents were the biggest braggers in their
My two-year-old daughter picked right up on this: “Fucking shit. Fucking shit is fucking shit … fuck this shit.”
“Baby, don’t talk like that,” I said. “Daddy’s sorry he said those bad words.”
“Fuck that shit,” was her reply. I’m glad my wife wasn’t around.
I couldn’t get mad at my son because it was kind of funny. I mean, I’m a comedian, and there’s a rule in my house: If it’s funny, you’re not in trouble. The most I can say is, “Boy, work on your timing.” If she got stuck on the bowl I would have had to laugh. Her behind is only the size of two nickels, so she has to hold onto the toilet seat to keep from falling in. Which means she would’ve got stuck hands and ass to the bowl. I would’ve had to take the whole toilet seat off and put that in the car like it’s a car seat. Then, drive her to the hospital and I guess, throw her to the doctor like a Frisbee. He would’ve looked on in horror as she spun toward him saying, “Fucking shit. Fuck that shit. The fucking shit.”
Laying Down the Rules
T he greatest compliment to me as a father is when people like my kids. That makes me feel good. All the sacrifice and hard work is paying off. It would make me sick if people were talking bad about my kids, saying things like, “Oh, those damn Wayans boys are just trouble. They don’t get any love at home. Just look at them playing in the traffic like that. It’s a damn shame. Their parents need to be shot.”
I believe as a parent you have to lay down rules and live by them yourself. I knew kids when I was growing up that could steal stuff and bring it home. My friend had a room full of stereo equipment that wasn’t his and his mother would be in his room jamming to the music, saying, “Oh, baby, this is my song! Pee Wee, turn up the sound!”
I used to think to myself, “Damn, that stereo is stolen. And I know it’s stolen because I helped steal it.” That didn’t happen in my house. If you didn’t have a receipt, or couldn’t justify where you got the money to buy the equipment, it didn’t get past the front door. Being poor, we needed some of that stolen stuff, but there was no way I could bring it inthe house. That taught me to work hard and appreciate the things I had. It kept me from being spoiled.
That’s the worst thing you can do: spoil your kids. Take the Menendez brothers. Remember them? They killed their parents. How do you shoot your own mother and father? Apparently, there wasn’t a lot of love in that house. But I think that a kid should understand that if you bring them into the world they have an obligation to, at least, let you live. I mean, parents feed you and clothe you. And I bet Mr. Menendez was the one who bought his sons their first guns. But they probably took it all for granted.
Thank God those boys are in jail. That’s where they need to be. It’s unfortunate for them that they didn’t go to prison for killing their parents for no reason, because they would have gotten a lot of respect for that. Nobody would’ve messed with them. But they put it out in the trial that the father was molesting them. Now, that’s the kind of stuff they want to hear about you when you’re in prison. Bubba is gonna have them bent over with a girlie magazine on their backs, saying, “Just call me Daddy. I’m gonna make it feel like home.”
You’re the Proud Parents of a Baby Girl Named Monica
I feel sorry for the parents of Monica Lewinsky. I mean all those years of sacrificing, nurturing, and caring for their baby girl. All those late nights at the hospital, putting her through private school, and making sure that she feels loved and protected in the world. After all of that you end up being known as, “The Parents Who Raised the Ho.”
It must hurt. I bet that before all of this happened Monica’s parents were the biggest braggers in their
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