The House Smells Better. Don't Tell Tucker I Said That

Well here's something I never thought I'd admit.

My kid smells better than I do.

And before one of you smartasses says something...

I ain't walking around smelling Tucker.

Jesus Christ.

I'm talking about all this wax shit he's gotten into.

The kid likes stuff that smells good.

He's got opinions about it too.

This one's good.

That one's too strong.

That one smells weird.

That one apparently smells like fall.

I didn't know fall had a smell.

I always thought fall smelled like wet leaves, cold dirt and somebody down the road burning shit they're probably not supposed to be burning.

But whatever.

I'm learning.

Me, I ain't that complicated.

I shower.

I put deodorant on.

Most days.

I got some shit I'll spray on if I'm going somewhere.

That's about the extent of Joe Durst's fragrance program.

If I don't smell like sweat, sawdust or something I stepped in, we're having a pretty good day.

Tucker apparently has higher standards.

OF COURSE I GIVE HIM SHIT ABOUT IT

I'm his dad.

That's what I'm supposed to do.

Your kid gets interested in something and you don't give em at least a little shit about it, are you even doing your job?

But I ain't gonna lie.

I kinda like it.

Not necessarily the wax.

Although some of it does smell pretty damn good.

Don't tell him I said that.

I mean I like watching him get interested in his own shit.

He's getting older.

He's figuring out what he likes.

What he don't like.

What he thinks is cool.

What he thinks is stupid.

And every once in awhile he tells me something and I realize he actually knows more about it than I do.

I don't particularly enjoy those moments.

I'm his father.

I'm supposed to know everything.

At least that's what I've been telling him for years.

Apparently the little bastard is starting to catch on.

THEN SOMEHOW TUCKER GOT DRAGGED INTO THIS INTERNET SHIT

I don't even know how half this stuff happens anymore.

Couple months ago I was just some guy going to work, coming home, raising my kid and minding my own damn business.

Now I got people following me all over the internet.

I got a website.

I sell clothes.

I sell clothes I've already worn.

That's a whole other story.

I wrote a damn book.

People actually bought the damn book.

Somewhere in there I'm talking about jerking off on the internet.

I don't know.

Things got away from me.

Then Tucker started getting interested in this scent stuff and people started asking about that too.

So I figured what the hell.

Everybody else around here apparently gets a page.

Kid might as well get one too.

And that's how we ended up with this thing we're calling What's Tucker Burnin'?

That's literally what it is.

What's Tucker burning?

What does he like?

What does he think smells good?

What does he think smells like shit?

Although I probably shouldn't encourage him to describe products that way.

I'm trying to teach the boy some business skills here.

I'M LETTING HIM HAVE THIS ONE

Here's the thing.

Tucker's my kid.

But he ain't me.

I think sometimes parents forget that shit.

We spend years trying to teach em everything we know and then get surprised when they start having ideas of their own.

He's supposed to.

I don't want another Joe.

Good Lord.

One of me is enough.

I want him to figure out his own shit.

What he likes.

What he's good at.

What he wants to do.

What kinda man he wants to be.

Some of it I'll understand.

Some of it I probably won't.

Some of it I'm sure I'll think is completely fucking stupid.

And he'll probably think the same thing about half the shit I do.

That's alright.

I'm his dad.

I ain't supposed to live his life for him.

I'm supposed to make sure he gets far enough along to live the damn thing himself.

Well shit.

Look at me getting all serious in an article about wax.

Let's move on.

SO WHAT THE HELL IS TUCKER BURNIN'?

It's his little corner of this mess.

That's all.

He picks out stuff he likes.

He tells me what's good.

I nod like I know what the hell he's talking about.

And we're putting some of it out there for y'all to see.

If you like this kinda stuff, go take a look.

If you don't, don't.

Tucker will survive.

So will I.

SEE WHAT TUCKER'S BURNIN' →

And if you buy something he picked out, I'm sure he'll be pretty damn proud of himself.

Just don't make too big a deal about it.

He's a teenager.

His head's already big enough.

AND I'LL GIVE THE KID THIS

The house does smell better.

There.

I said it.

Don't send this article to Tucker.

I'll never hear the end of it.

Matter of fact, forget you read that part.

The wax is stupid.

I'm the father.

I know everything.

Let's stick with that.

Anyway.

If you wanna see what the kid's got burning, it's up there.

I'm gonna go do something I understand.

Probably make coffee.

Or cut something.

Or apparently package up another pair of my underwear and mail em to somebody I've never met.

Normal father-son household over here.

Nothing to see.

— Joe