I wrote a Father’s Day post at my old blog FKS that I enjoy reposting every Father’s Day as an annual tradition. So here it is. Enjoy. And for you folks who enjoyed the old FKS blog, stay tuned. I might some have good news for you.

Guess what day Sunday is? You see that calendar? You see what it says? That’s right, sluts. Motherfucking Father’s Day. This day used to be for all the other douchebags that had kids. Well, now it’s my turn. And I’m not settling for one of those half-assed Father’s Days my dad always had, when he got socks and a card and ended up washing the dishes anyway. I’m not playing that shit. In fact, I submitted this itinerary to Mrs. Drew and have instructed her to follow it to a tee.

7:00AM – Baby cries. Someone who is not me tends to it.

9:00AM – Mrs. Drew wakes me up while wearing the uniform of a service industry employee of my choosing. I’m thinking a 1920’s speakeasy cigarette girl. It’s eccentric, yet boneriffic.

9:01AM – Hot monkey sex.

9:15AM – Shower.

9:37AM – Watch news. Find out Brett Favre has been killed in a hunting accident. Cry hot tears of joy.

9:38AM – Play with the Girl until tired of doing so.

9:45AM – Tired of doing so.

9:46AM – Greet in-laws at the door and hand the Girl over to them. Bye, Girl!

9:47AM – Bong hit.

10:00AM – Eggs.

10:10AM – Boooooooooong hit.

10:30AM – Limo ride to Dave & Buster’s, where I down three boilermakers and beat the living shit out of a random 15-year-old at Pop-A-Shot. Yell to everyone, “I’m the Daddy here, bitches!”

11:10AM – Limo ride to airport. Drink a bottle of Cristal. Listen to “Master of Puppets” in its entirety, singing both the vocal and guitar parts. Come up with the idea for a cologne that smells like gunfire. Call my brother to have it patented. Develop marketing plan to sell it exclusively in nightclubs in downtown Houston, Atlanta, and Miami. Call venture capitalist. Secure a $100 million investment.

11:35AM – Have limo pull over. Have hot monkey sex on the shoulder.

12:00PM – Private Concorde to Atlantis in the Bahamas. Drink three Stoli & grapefruits while watching the in-flight movie, which is the first 40 minutes of “Full Metal Jacket”, followed by the first 20 minutes of “Saving Private Ryan”. Fucking. Awesome.

1:04PM – Smoke a bowl.

1:05PM – Spontaneously orgasm.

1:10PM – Land. Limo to casino. Hit blackjack table. Immediately go up $250,000.

1:42PM – Russell Crowe enters the casino. Sits down next to me. Tells me he’s a huge fan of my work and wishes he were more like me. Rubs my thigh and tells me I’m the first man he’s ever been gay for.

1:43PM – Slap the shit out of Russell Crowe. Get another $50,000 in chips compliments of the casino bellhop staff.

2:00PM – Late lunch. Two five pound lobsters. Entire smoked salmon. Gallon of beluga caviar. Bottle of Dalmore.

2:45PM – Escorted to private suite with Mrs. Drew.

2:59PM – Act out entire sequences from the movie “Night Trips,” starring the legendary Tori Welles.

4:29PM – Shower. Play with myself, just to mix things up a bit.

4:45PM – Limo back to airport. Private Concorde to New York City. Turn on satellite television to watch the World Cup. Find out soccer has been preempted by highlights of the Vikings 31-17 playoff win at Lambeau Field five years ago, the one where Randy Moss pretends to take a shit on the field. Except, in this version, Moss really does take a shit on the field, and then Joe Buck dies on the air in a hail of gunfire.

6:00PM – Land in Manhattan. Limo ride to Hudson Hotel. Get fitted for a suit by the very finest Italian tailor while in the car. Inhale entire nitrous oxide tank.

6:30PM – Arrive at Hudson Hotel Bar. Bouncer looks at guest list. I am the only name on the list. Enter the bar and instruct bouncer to bring me headshots of people who would like to get in for my approval.

6:49PM – Approve of no one. Get fucking drunk.

8:00PM – Dinner at Per Se. Thomas Keller comes to our table, tells me he’s a huge fan. Offers complimentary foie gras, fellatio. I take the former.

9:43PM – Helicopter ride back to Maryland. Ask pilot to hover five feet off the ground in select areas. Use long-range hunting rifle and night scope to gun down cats at random.

10:30PM – Pick up the Girl. She smiles at me, laughs a little, and then falls asleep.

10:45PM – Limo ride home.

11:00PM – Tuck in Girl.

11:01PM – Hot monkey sex in front of mirror. I look good.

11:15PM – Turn on news. Find out Osama bin Laden, Paris Hilton, and Jimmy Fallon all died. Drink a bottle of Cabernet in celebration.

11:29PM – Leave witty comment on deadspin.com that only I find funny.

11:30PM – Kiss Mrs. Drew good night. Throw massive kegger.

7:00AM – Sleep well, Big Drew. You are truly the king of kings.

Happy Father’s Day, everybody.