Help! I Can Fix Almost Anything, But Gen Z Slang Broke My Brain

By Christopher Moore

I’m the kind of guy who can fix a leaky sink with a butter knife, diagnose a weird engine knock by sound alone, and build a fantasy football lineup that makes Vegas oddsmakers cry into their spreadsheets. I can MacGyver pretty much anything.

Or at least I thought I could… until my own kids broke me with their secret weapon: Gen Z slang.

I’m 44. I’ve got two 18-year-olds (one son, one daughter), a 16-year-old daughter, and a 10-year-old son. They speak in a language so confusing it makes IKEA instructions look like “See Spot Run.” I’ll ask my oldest how school was, and he’ll go:

“Not gonna lie, it was kinda mid but math slapped. My fit was drippy, no cap.”

I’m sorry… what? Did math beat you up? Was your outfit wet? Should I be calling the police or the principal?

I can rebuild a diesel engine with a hangover. I can fix a busted laptop with a paperclip and a prayer. But I cannot, for the life of me, figure out if my son just told me he had a good day or challenged me to a rap battle.

My Attempt at “Speaking Their Language”

Like any good dad facing an unsolvable problem, I did research. I watched TikToks. I read articles written by people who use words like “rizz” without irony. I started to memorize terms.

And then I tried them.

Oh God, did I try them.

One morning, I walked into the kitchen and proudly announced, “Peep my drip, fam. I’m slaying this dad look, no cap.”

The ten-year-old froze like a deer in headlights. The teens rolled their eyes so hard I thought they’d pull a muscle. My fiance didn’t even look up—just muttered, “Mid.”

Apparently, there’s an unspoken rule: once you’re over 40, using Gen Z slang instantly turns it into a war crime.

Parents Have Been Failing at This Forever

I realized something—every generation has tried this. My mom tried to use 90s slang when I was a kid, and it was brutal. Imagine your mom saying “talk to the hand” in complete seriousness. It was like watching someone’s soul leave their body in slow motion.

But here’s the difference: our slang lasted. “Dope” survived for decades. You could say “the bomb” for a good five years without getting laughed out of the lunchroom. Hell, I still drop “my bad” daily.

Gen Z slang, though? It changes faster than I can Google it. By the time I figured out what “sus” meant, my kids had already moved on to something called “skibidi” that sounds like a cartoon sneeze.

The Internet Is Just Making It Worse

Parents on TikTok are out here actively weaponizing this stuff. There’s a dad who rented an actual billboard just to roast his daughters in Gen Z slang. Imagine driving down the highway and seeing, “My kids are totally rizzless. Bet?”

I don’t know if that man is a genius or if his kids are in therapy now. Probably both.

Another guy makes videos where he drops phrases like “slay queen” and “spill the tea” just to watch his kids wither in real time. Millions of views. Maximum cringe. Somewhere, a social worker is filling out paperwork.

And then there’s me—just a humble dad—trying to drop “no cap” into conversation without sounding like a narc at a high school dance. Spoiler alert: I cannot.

Dinner Table Slang Disaster

One night, I decided to get bold. Family dinner. Everyone’s eating. I ask, “So… who’s got the most rizz at school?”

Silence.

I don’t know what’s worse—being roasted with my own research, or realizing my family now thinks of me as the linguistic equivalent of cargo shorts with socks and sandals.

The Science of My Failure

Linguists say slang is how young people create identity and keep old people out. It’s a fence around their clubhouse. Back in the day, that fence was MTV and mixtapes. Now, it’s TikTok videos made by teenagers in bedrooms lit like interrogation rooms.

And while slang used to stick around for a while, now it dies in weeks. By the time you learn it, it’s already cringe. You think you’re connecting with your kid, but in reality, you’re just confirming their belief that you’re ancient.

My Final Dad Strategy

Here’s the thing—I’m never going to get it right. I’ll never be fluent in their weird meme-based dialect. But I’m going to keep trying.

Why? Because misusing their slang is my love language. It’s my way of saying, “I see you, I’m paying attention, and also, I’m going to make you roll your eyes so hard you see your own brain.”

So if you catch me in Home Depot muttering, “This wrench is giving mad rizz, no cap,” just know—I can fix your busted dishwasher. But Gen Z slang? Still working on it.

And that’s the tea, fam.

-The Gun Loving Hippie Dad … Who Fixes Stuff

Rants, repairs, and realness