Rite of Passage »

A thoroughly hysterical and altogether repulsive look into the trials and wonders of the contemporary father.

She’s started telling off-color limericks while slicking her hair back in front of the mirror. When we can’t find a men’s room, she even offers to pee in the bushes like a drunk Japanese salaryman.

Thank you, my terror at the prospect of next having a girl has reached an apex.