Saving Dad's Butt

Ladies, it's almost Father's day and perhaps you're still wondering what to get for the man who sired your children. I'm here to help. Regardless of your economic status, this is the item every man should have, and you can help yourself by gifting him with this item on your own terms. It's a win-win.

The man-cave used to be called the garage. It was his sanctuary. It was the place he could go kid and wife free. He had rules for his garage. We didn't touch his tools without permission, and God save us if we put one back in the wrong place or left a mess he didn't make. Whether it was full of boxes and cans that were tagged and categorized or just crammed into odd spaces, he knew his territory and could usually find anything in the garage at a moment's notice. He hid his girly magazines in there. He designed and built tools that would help you get things off the top shelf or open stubborn jars when he wasn't home. Sometimes he would just turn on a power tool and let it run so he could make you think he was working on something while he cleared his head. Power tools can sound far more soothing than a pack of shrieking toddlers. Unfortunately, there's been a decline in garage ownership.

For many, the sanctuary moved into the house. It didn't involve tools. It involved the ugliest, most offensive piece of furniture ever created, and i'm including Byzantine torture benches in this equation. It never went with anything else in your home, and he'd rather sell you and the kids than get rid of it. It was ugly, but it was also the most comfortable place on earth. It said, "There, there. You've worked hard all day. I understand." He could lean back in it and it would elevate both his aching feet and his soul. He would frequently examine the back of his eyelids in it while snoring like a psychotic buzz saw. Sometimes we'd let him stay there all night because he just looked so happy. But damn, that thing was hideous!

Somewhere along the line, men became interior decorators and found themselves in the unique position of understanding the needs of both men and women. We need our home to look like we didn't pick up random pieces of furniture off the sidewalk the day after college got out for the summer. Men need a chiropractor/foot-lifter/sprawling device that gently embraces them and doesn't ask them to take out the trash. Luckily, there is such a thing. Men speak its name with reverence: La-Z-Boy. When their friends come over they show them off. "Sweet living room ride, dude!" And now these chairs come in every size, shape, colour, pattern and texture imaginable to designers. They come in both standard and automatic. Best of all, they feel exactly the same as they did when they were ugly.

Save your egg money. Get financing. Have bake sales. Extreme coupon for a few months. If you're a young bride, this is especially important because if you don't get him this chair, one of his friends will upgrade his nasty chair and you'll end up with a castoff, hideous and possibly smelly fixture in your living room that you'll have a hell of a time removing. They may seem a little pricey, but they cost far less than a divorce lawyer. When you've had enough of his nonsense, you can park him in it and go do your own thing without worrying about him destroying the house while unattended. This one material object will also secure his lifelong appreciation for you, as long as you never try to sit in it.

Lily Robertson, who is in no way affilliated with this chair, misses her dad but not his insanely ugly butt cradle. She can be reached at canopicjargon@gmail.com or you can just rant about how sexist this is right here.