Keep On Rollin'

Cub Scouts and Memorial Day!

Aside from participating in all three major Memorial Day Weekend events with the Cub Scouts, my wife's sister, brother-in-law and nieces came up from New York for the weekend...oh yeah and Oreo, their dog.  I know what you're thinking, I'm going to tell hilarious stories about the in-laws and Oreo....nah, I made a promise to my wife that I would not put them in my blog, but I can tell you if I was allowed, I wouldn't have to come up with 26 topics for next year's A to Z Challenge or 2014's for that matter.

So let me tell you about some of my weekend.  Saturday started off with a bang, I walked into our bedroom to get changed for the flag placement and smelled something....it wasn't me this time and #3 was outside with the other kids.  My cat had just booked out of the room and for good reason, he shit on my computer chair.  The two cats (Re-Re and Precious Princess) couldn't get to the litter box because of Oreo.  So Re-Re decided to defecate on my computer chair.  Makes sense to me, that's what I will do next time I can't get to the bathroom because #1 is in it and #3 is clogging the small bathroom, I'll squat and shit on the dining room chair where Re-Re sleeps and see how he likes it.

We had plenty of food all weekend long too.  My sister-in-law figured instead of making meals all weekend long or, God forbid, ordering something out, we would cook up the meat from three and a half pigs.  We had twenty pounds of ribs, eighteen pounds of pulled pork, ten pounds of potato salad and coleslaw and three pounds of macaroni salad.  Oreo stop!  We had enough food to feed ALL of those starving kids you see on TV with Rob Reiner.  Talk about humans being a barbaric species, there is no way of eating this sort of feast without making a gigantic mess, whoever said you can wear white on Memorial Day Weekend obviously never ate a couple of swine with my family.  Which is also the reason why I gained three pounds this weekend.

Monday, after the parade, we decided to go roller skating...now when I say we, I mean I was told we were going roller skating and had no say in the decision.  The local roller skating rink was having a Memorial Day special for a minor charge of like $45 per person, you could roller skate, play laser tag, eat all you can eat pizza and drink all you can drink soda.  Well in my case it was $45 to sit and not roller skate, try to play laser tag and watch the kids devour cheese pizza and spill sodas all over the place.  Oh, I forgot to tell you we inherited the neighbor's daughter for this excursion as well, this weekend we were like Bebe's Kids, they don't die...they multiple.

So after feasting on several large cheese, cardboard pizzas and guzzling sugar filled sodas, they decided to hit the rink.  I know, you're wondering why I didn't go roller skating with them, that's a simple answer.  I don't fucking roller skate.  I never learned, despite going to Interskate 91 many, many times with my friends growing up.  I was the fat kid who, once got going, couldn't stop until he slammed himself into the wall in front of him.  I couldn't turn, so I would go straight, hit the wall, turn myself with the assistance of the wall and repeat.  I decided back then I don't skate (roller or ice) and I never will.  Now fast forward 25 years to a body that is older, more brittle and not as flexible, oh and I am not remotely coordinated.

So I sat, until divine intervention happened.  #1 decided at that point in time that he doesn't skate and was brought over to me.  I looked at him, he looked at me.  I smiled at his misfortune, because I can recall feeling how he felt...

"So, couldn't do it huh?"

"Nope."

"Hmm, wanna know something?"

"Sure, what's that?"

"I don't know how to roller skate either and I...."

"Yeah Dad I know, you're not remotely coordinated and suck at it not to mention you're too old anyway."

".....um, thanks buddy."

Silence arrived for a few minutes.

"You want to go play Laser Tag?"

"Sure."

So we decided to play Laser Tag, we got in line and waited.  I looked down at #1 and thought to myself, "I hope you're on the other team so I can shoot you for the old comment, you little bastard."  Well we got into the "briefing room" with the eighteen other players.  It was a good combination of adults and kids.  We sat and watched the video, broke into teams (#1 and I were on the same team..dammit) and geared up.  Now if you have never played Laser Tag, it's like paintball without the welts at the end.  We enter the black light lit arena and take our sides.

Cute and innocent...my ass!

The next thing I know I was surrounded by tiny little Rambos.  They were coming out of everywhere, rolling out from behind the barriers, popping up from the hidden spots. I swear one of them had a Wii controller in their teeth like a big knife, one even blacked out his eyes and teeth so they wouldn't glow in the black light. They were ruthless. 

I thought to myself, as I waited for the pack and gun to recharge for the 25th time (it shuts off for about twenty seconds when you get hit), the military will have no problem getting super soldiers in ten years or we are in for a world of anarchy, it all depends on the path they choose. 

I stumbled out of the war zone and checked my standings on the screen, out of twenty I was 18th, ranked above the two grandparents who were in there.  Eh, whatever, it's only a game....until.

"Yeah! We rule!  Did you see those old people in there?"

"OMG (yes he said OH EM GEE) they were so slow."

"Let's do it again, this time hopefully we can have a challenge." 

My turn.

I looked at the little shits, looked up at the score screen and looked back at the snot nosed little freaks.  #1 saw the look in my eye and he smiled.  I knew he was thinking "Yeah, that's right you little bitches, you pissed of my Dad, you're fucked now you twat waffles."  Wait....he doesn't read my blog how did he know about twat waffles from Crap That Bugs Me!  Oh well it didn't matter, those little shits were done for.  Game on bitches!  I entered and geared up.  I looked at #1, nodded and he knew it was time for a good old fashioned Minion ass whooping, too bad #2 and #3 were busy skating, we could have taken over the whole place.

His brain jumped into gear and our minds linked, without even saying a word we knew what to do.  I headed to one end of the arena and took my post, #1 stayed behind to draw fire.  He was using smart warfare, dodging in and out of the protective barriers he caught the attention of all of the little Rambos and one by one, I dropped each and everyone of them.  Every time I saw green lights, I fired.  No one knew what hit them.  Each and every time they were tagged out, they waited and went back for another round.  "You may be younger than I am little Wombat, but I have experience and brains on my side...oh and your mom, tell her thanks for last night kid."  Actually I just smiled to myself while picking off each one.

The timer went off and the smoke cleared the air, I checked the score screen and I was ranked two out of twenty and our team won.  I watched each and everyone of the defeated "tweens" skulk away, knowing they just had their asses handed to them by an "old guy".  I had my moment of grandeur for the day, but I was ultimately removed from glory when I was told to go and sit at the bouncy house to watch #2 and #3 while everyone else went back to roller skating.  Nothing knocks you down a peg like sitting by yourself watching the Minions try to knock themselves out with foam filled shapes in an air filled jumpy house.  Ah the life of a Dad.

My Children Are Loaded With It....

Yes I just stole a line from the great Bill Cosby:  Himself.  If you have never watched that particular stand up routine...what the hell?  Get with the program and pick it up on DVD for Christ's sake!

There seems to be some sort of phenomenon the past couple of months when all the planets in the Idunno galaxy have lined up and the gods on top of Mount Sonofabitch have decreed that all children will be little shits.  I know it's not just my Minions, I have spoken to several other parents and they have all said the same thing...there's something in the water and it ain't right.

I can recall the exact moment in time when the Sonofabitch gods threw down the gauntlets and bitched slapped all of the parents.  It was March 29, 2012 at 7:04 PM.  I remember the exact time because for the first time I lost my cool with my Cub Scouts.  We were playing a version of Family Feud at the Pack Meeting and each and every one of the kids, all 40 of them, were off the wall and exuding turdiness.  Each Den Leader looked at me with the "I surrender" look as I responded back with the "You leave, I'm following your asses out the door and never looking back" look.

We put a rule in place that all drink that we give the Scouts will from here on out be sugar free, chalking it up to the juice we served that night.  We were wrong.

My Minions, only one of them being in Cub Scouts, have been whisked away and replaced by some sort of Bizarro Universe version.

He now has his jet pack...

#3, who by the way I was told he is referred to as #3 not because he is our third Minion, but because of the copious amount of methane exuding from his ass, he doesn't take "number 2s" he takes "number 3s".  Anyway, #3 has developed a vocabulary, 85% of it we can understand and the remaining 15% we are absolutely clueless as to what this child wants.  He knows this, he uses this to his advantage to overthrow our ruling and he his quickly on the rise from the "grunt" to the second in command.  Let me explain....


The 15% of #3's vocabulary that we cannot comprehend is basic English, just slightly skewed enough to not understand.  He will ask for something such as a piece of toast for breakfast, we will then repeat it back to him and he nods in agreement.  The toast has been made, buttered and served when he refuses said toast and claims he asked for cereal.  Now you may be thinking that toast and cereal sound nothing alike, but somehow, Bizzaro #3 has been able to manipulate our hearing abilities and is using this power against us.

The Rule of Two, he doesn't follow.

#2 has gone rogue and has struck out on his own, not only waging war against us, but the other Minions.  Bizzaro #2 has the power of screech and shriek but still posses the gamma rays to turn into the Hulk when mad.  He has been demanding items instead of asking for them, hoarding #3's weaponry (toys) and slowly driving #1 insane (which we will get to in a minute).  When confronted about his actions, particularly the door he kicked off the hinges to the shed, he will respond with the above "I dunno..."  Like I said, our children are loaded with it....

New Profile Picture for #1

#1....has not been switched out, he was able to defend himself against Bizarro #1, but the battle has in fact affected him....a lot.  #1 is still the leader of the Minions, however with the increasing power of #3 and #2 going solo, he is finding the struggle to be very difficult.  #3 will no longer do his bidding...without bribery, a toy from #1's personal stash or perhaps a drink of soda that he shouldn't have.  #2 has obviously waged war against #1 and #1 knows he could ultimately loose the battle, this is why he has been asking for friends to come over...all the time.  He needs reinforcements in the form of his friends.

Now my Minions have minions.

We are at the end of our ropes right now, the war has made us weary.  We know that school will be out for summer break soon and we have had this conversation:

"How was your day, tootsie pop?" (Me asking my loving, wonderful wife)

"....", as she stares at me.

"Uh-oh, where are they?"

"In their rooms right now."

"You know, we could sell them....just saying."

"No we couldn't"

"Yeah, you're right, we've put too much work into them already."

"No, we couldn't sell them because no one would want them."

"True, good point, point taken.  We would have to give them away...somehow."

"Again, no one would take them, look at them, they're defective."

"Yeah, you're right, what if we went to a friend's house and just left them there?"

".....you're a dumbass, all of our friends know where we live."

"We could move...."

"Hmmmm, you might be onto something there...."

So to all of our friends out there, if you find the Minions at your house and we are nowhere to be found, do not come looking for us, accept the gifts, even if they did fall off the top shelf a few dozen times, and we will send a money order once a month to cover some of the food.

Oh, by the way I was asked to follow a new blog today, Crap That Bugs Me and so far, freaking hysterical!  I even learned a new phrase today...twat waffle!

Put Me In Coach....

...unless I missed a practice because it was monsoon season in town!

#1 and #2 are both in little league baseball in town, #1 is in coach pitch and #2 is in t-ball.  This program runs for roughly six weeks out of the year, including practices and playoffs.  It costs $30 per kid to play and they get a hat to keep.  On top of the registration fee, they are also required to sell raffle tickets to fund the expenses of little league.  All of this is very fair and we have no issues with this.  I grew up playing little league and I love the game of baseball.

We signed #1 and #2 up thinking they will have fun and would enjoy playing.  We have taught them that it doesn't matter if you win or loose, have fun.  We also teach them that life isn't fair and not everyone gets a trophy or a medal, so don't expect it.  Neither of the two older Minions are remotely coordinated beyond tying their shoes when it comes to sports, but they have fun and enjoy them and neither my wife and I live vicariously through them, I don't have delusions of grandeur that #1 will be the next all star.

I wish I could say the same thing for some of the coaches we have encountered this year.  I am finding that there are three categories when it comes to a coach in little league:

The "My Wife Signed Me Up and I Would Rather Be Drinking Beer" Coach

The "I Was The Starting Second Baseman For My College Team and My Son Is The Best Player" Coach

The "Let's Let The Kids Have Fun and Play The Game While Learning" Coach

You can guess which coach is few and far between.  I understand that the coaches, assistant coaches and umpires are all volunteers but let's be honest with ourselves, chances are the short, crossed eyed, messy haired kid, picking his nose in right field will probably not get drafted by the Red Sox.  There is absolutely no reason to yell at the second grader because he didn't make the cut off player and the other team scored a run.  This kid is not going to be the next Josh Hamilton, I can guarantee that.  In fact, I can almost guarantee that the reason he is playing baseball is because his parents want him to have fun.

Hey what are you picking?  Obviously not a winner!

Now, the only thing I can honestly compare this to is Cub Scouts, which is the only thing I volunteer for due to lack of time.  So when I compare the next few scenarios, it may or may not make sense to you.

It started with the schedule of games.  Great no problem, we can put them into our iPhones, iPads, iPods and even write them onto the calendar hanging on the wall.  They are scheduled, we know when  they are.  How a coach plans a practice is beyond me.  If, as Cubmaster, I told the families the day before that I wanted to run an event, I would get zero turn out, you can't do that to parents these days, with kids being in sports, Scouts, school activities and more, parents need quite a bit of notice, not the "You guys lost today so there will be mandatory practice tomorrow at 9AM for three hours."  These are second and third grade kids....in coach pitch, you are not Terry Francona managing 23-40 year old men, who get paid millions of dollars...relax the fuck up.

Like I said, it's been monsoon season here and the chance of games and practices being canceled are inevitable, but why make the decision five minutes before we are supposed to show up or even better, send the text out while we are arriving at the field?  Really?  I don't know about you, but when I plan something I want to give people the most amount of time to know if the event or whatever has been canceled.  You have parents coming home from work, in some cases leaving work early, rushing to get their three kids fed, cleaned and out the door and you decide to cancel the 5:00 PM game at 4:58 PM?

If a kid gets drilled in the face by a ground ball, don't stomp over to him and yell at him to get up and deal with it.  Again this is a second grader we are talking about here.  What if you were playing short stop and got drilled in the sack with a baseball, I would imagine it wouldn't tickle.  Show some compassion, asshat.

Don't go up to a second grader and threaten to bench them or kick them off the team because he missed too many practices.  This one hit close to home, yesterday #1's coach singled him out and told him that he was going to be benched because he missed the practice earlier that week...the same practice that got canceled five minutes before and then we were called again five minutes later saying they were having it in the rain.  I wasn't there but my wife was and (this is why I love her) she got in the coaches face and told him that if he needed to say something to say it to her and then proceeded to let loose our frustrations with the communication between coaches and parents.  Needless to say, #1 sat on the bench for the first three innings.

What I'm getting at here is that if you are going to be a volunteer coach for second and third graders, you need to understand that they are not MLB superstars. Yelling and screaming at the kids, especially the ones who have attention issues, is not going to help the situation.  Before every game the teams recite the Little League Oath:

I trust in God,

I love my country and will respect its law.

I will play fair and strive to win.

But win or lose,

I will always do my best.

I call bullshit on this with some of the coaches, maybe they should follow this oath before criticizing the kids for not playing well.  Maybe they can learn from this book, it's only $2.43 on Amazon.

The 11 Questions Game

Well it seems there is a cute little game circulating around the world of bloggers called the 11 Questions Game.  This reminds me of the Facebook posts that people would do about a year ago, except this is only eleven and not ninety-nine questions.  Honestly I despise being a sheep and following the herd but there comes a time in our lives that in order to grow a blog one must play well with others.

I have been tagged by a new Minion of mine, Gossip_Grl at ~*~Whatever~*~...  So there are rules that are in place for this get-to-know you, ice-breaker, party game.  If you do not follow the rules, one of two things will happen, either a pack of potbellied, pygmy platypuses will be released to hunt you down or a cherub will fly directly into an oncoming airliner, we don't know which will happen, the fate is up to those who get tagged. 

The rules are pretty simple though:  You must post these rules.  Each per­son must post 11 things about them­selves on their blog. Answer the ques­tions the tag­ger set for you in their post and cre­ate 11 new ques­tions for the peo­ple you tag to answer. You have to choose 11 peo­ple to tag and link them on the post. Go to their page and tell them you have linked him or her. No tag backs and you legit­i­mately have to tag 11 people.

People know this is not a Mommy Blog right?

Now I have to tell everyone and their mom 11 things about myself, so here goes:

1. I am a huge Star Wars geek and I pride myself on that.
2. I am an Eagle Scout and Vigil Honor member in the Boy Scouts of America.
3. I have a severe hatred of clowns.
4. I have worked for the same company since I was a junior in high school.
5. I have a slight case of O.C.D. or C.D.O. (because that's the right order of the letters).
6. I despise cotton balls, they squeak.
7. I feel stupidity should be painful.
8. I am part of a paranormal investigation team called ParaPatrol.
9. I believe in Bigfoot and want to go on an excursion sometime to find proof of one.
10. I want to be a stand up comedian when I grow up.
11. I write this blog so that I do not harm any innocent people in the wake of destroying the stupid ones.

Here are the questions I have been....blessed with to answer:

1. What is your favorite dessert?  Well, gosh that's a good question, I would have to say by favorite dessert is a toss up between Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby (no puns please) and beer.
2. What is your favorite animal?  My favorite animal is the Wombat.  It's fun to say and it can be used to describe stupid people.
3. What is my favorite fear?  What the hell kind of question is that?  Who has a favorite fear????  Gosh, I do love me a good fear of drowning or Man, I could go for a great clown to scare the shit out of me right now.
4. What is your favorite movie?  I have to lump the Original Trilogy into this one, Episode IV, V and VI are the best, but if I had to choose which one of the three I would choose Episode V...oh, sorry I mean The Empire Strikes Back, for those who know it by the name.
5. What is your greatest fear?  Fixate much on fears do we?  My greatest fear would have to be loosing my family.
6. What is your one guilty pleasure?  My one guilty pleasure is nachos.  I am a nacho connoisseur, I LOVE nachos, everywhere I go I try the nachos.  From plain tortilla chips and the soupy yellow nacho cheese to gourmet buffalo chicken nachos.  Man...now I want nachos.
7. What was your most embarrassing moment?  I don't embarrass very easily at all, so in all honesty I don't have a most embarrassing moment....sorry.....
8. What is you dream vacation?  Ahhh, good question.  It would start with a trip to Disney FOR STAR WARS WEEK, then head to Skywalker Ranch and finish up over in England visiting the founder of the Boy Scouts.
9. What is your favorite quote?  I have two actually, "Proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance" and "Alright look, there's only one Return, OK and it ain't of the King it's of the Jedi."
10. Truth or Dare:  In the game which do you prefer?  Do I look like Madonna?  I never did like that game, but I guess I would do the Truth part if I had to choose.
11. Have you ever lit a poop bag on fire on someone's porch?  Guilty as sin, both animal and human.

Here are the eleven people I have tagged, I have passed the torch and you are now the chosen ones:

Because nobody likes Mondays
Blondie McBaffled
Funny Odd Thing, Life....
In Stitches On the Compound
Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom
My Upside Down Life
A Simple Dude in a Complex World
The Mommy Rant
Beerbells
English Speaking Zone
Dating After Disney

And their questions to answer are...drum roll please:

1. Which movie best describes your life?
2. What is your favorite comic strip?
3. Who or what is your favorite Star Wars character?
4. What song can you listen to over and over and over?
5. Are your farts loud, silent but deadly or in between?
6. Who is your favorite stand up comic?
7. If you were stranded in the desert and your wagon lost a wheel, how many pancakes would it take to cover a dog house?
8. Are you allergic to anything?
9. What is your ideal vehicle?
10. Would you put one of those ridiculous stick figure families on your ideal vehicle?
11. If we were to look in your browser history what would we find in the top ten?

If I forgot or didn't get a chance to tell you on your blog, hopefully when you read this you won't despise me for tagging you.

I apologize for tagging you...but if I had to do it, I'm not going down alone.

Your Family Is Anorexic

***Updated for Dude Write 7!  It's an oldie but a goodie!***


There were a couple of things floating around in the abyss that is known as my mind that I could have shared with you.

I could have written about the little shit at NeverSeconds and the fact that she went viral with THREE posts and all within a week..because she posts about her school lunches, was interviewed by the news and is now famous.  Suck it up and bring your own lunch...

I could have written about #1 and his first girl sleepover last weekend and how my wife and I were mortified when he opened up the freezer to find 370 sausage patties for Cub Scouts and announced it was a sausage fest in there....

Nope, there has been something that has bugged me for the longest time and now is the perfect time to tell you about it.  Stick figures.  Yes, stick figures.  You know the stick figures I am talking about.  You see them everyday on the road, on the back of minivans and super sized soccer mom SUVs.  The Freaky Family Stick Figure Decals.

Does he pay all the support?

I despise these things, they are obnoxious.  No one really cares that you have 19 kids, 4 cats, 3 dogs and 1 wombat in your family.  No one cares that the Dad is depicted as golfing in his free time, the Mom is shown with a bowl and spoon in her hands inevitably baking fresh chocolate chip cookies, little sis has pom-poms and is cheering for big brother, who is wearing his football gear.  The dogs are waiting to play fetch and the cats are playing with a ball of yarn, no one cares.  Even the fucking wombat is doing something amazing like playing golf with Dad.  All lies.


The real stickers should have Dad sitting on the toilet, hiding from the kids, Mom should have her hair a mess with a dirty diaper in one hand and a baby in the other.  The sister should be on the cell phone, while the brother is playing video games.  The dogs should be begging for their food or shitting on the floor and the cats shouldn't even be there because anyone who has cats knows they are never around for people to see.  The wombat should be hanging himself because it is a family straight off of Jerry Springer's stage.

Now with that being said the Trophy wanted a set on her vehicle and has asked several times and each time I thought I was successful with my selective hearing.  Wrong...  Of course being the best husband in the world I did what any good husband would do, I caved in and said yes.  I went online and ordered a set that has a Dad, Mom, three boys, a dog and two cats.  They arrived and I applied them to the vehicle, all with a smile.

There are some different FFSFD (Freaky Family Stick Figure Decals) out there.  The most common would be the family who just went to the "Happiest Place On Earth" and they are all wearing mouse ears, even the wombat.  It's a lie, the wombat didn't go to Disney, he shouldn't be allowed to wear mouse ears.  All this is doing is pissing off the people who can't go to Disney, you insensitive snot.  Actually, I don't care that you went to Disney, it would cost me a year's salary to take my family...

Yay, good for you you took everyone to Disney.

Then you have the classic FFSFD.  The Dad is wearing a tie and carrying a briefcase, the Mom is wearing a nice dress staying home with the kids, the boy is wearing his baseball hat sideways, because he is cool and the girl is wearing pigtails like all little girls should.  The dog is smiling at the cat and vice versa.  They are all smiling...again, this is a lie.  I have never once smiled going to work in the morning, my wife isn't smiling when the Minions are torturing each other and the dog sure as shit isn't smiling when the cat is eating her food.

All lies!

Now you have the FFSFDs for the people who don't have a human family.  This person has her own family, just slightly furrier than yours and they shit in a box.  This set of decals screams "Help me!" or "Call the MSPCA and rescue these poor cats!".

Wow, they look just like you....

So what happens if someone dies in your stick family?  Eventually a pet or person dies, they don't live forever.  Do you just scrape them off your back window?  Do you put a halo or horns above that particular decal?

Rest in Peace Danny...

On the flip side, what if you put your FFSFD on the back window and you have a kid after the fact, do you put the kid stick figure behind the cat?  How is that going to make him/her feel when he gets older?  They are second rate to your furry companions?

Oh, I forgot to show you my FFSFD, yes I caved in and got them, but I did it my way.....

That's right bitches, I'm Han Solo and the Trophy is Princess Leia...

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

I was reading my bookmarked blogs today and one got me thinking, Jen at People I Want To Punch In The Throat did a post about neighbors and that got me thinking about mine.

I have three immediate neighbors and three "outskirt neighbors".  In other words my house is in between two other houses and I have a house across the street and the outskirt neighbors are the houses that are next to those houses...make sense?  Yeah I just confused the shit out of me too....but it doesn't matter because I want to tell you about our immediate neighbors.

I actually couldn't ask for better neighbors, they are quiet, friendly and very helpful.  The neighbor to left of me (looking out my front door) is a retired Army Ranger who builds custom furniture and his wife who works at the town library.  Both of them are very nice people always helping out and letting the kids play in their yard but he is VERY conservative and outspoken.  I came home one day from work last year to find this handmade sign in his yard.

Yes, this is my neighbor's yard and yes, that is my house in the background.

The neighbor to the right of my house (again looking out the front door) owns a concrete yard, runs a day care and has tow kids who are great.  The kids come over all the time to play and the husband helps me move big ass boulders that I was dumb enough to try to remove myself.  The wife and my wife have become really good friends.  The only issue I have ever had with them was there was this phase the husband was going through building picnic tables to sell.  We sleep with the windows open until it becomes that "holy fuck I am sweating my balls off" hot here in New England.  Well he thought it would be a dandy idea to build these things from midnight to 3:00 AM a few nights in a row....yeah, not so impressed.  BUT!  That was the only major issue we have had in six years of living here.

Now the real reason for this post is the neighbor across the street.  We have a pair of retired school janitors who keep completely to themselves. 

Fuck you flamingos!

They never bother anyone and it is amusing to see him practicing his golf skills in the backyard.  They have the pink flamingos and garden gnomes.  The bird feeders and the sun deck.  They always support our Cub Scout Pack and are just genuinely nice people.  Of course they are moving...

They are up there in age so they figure a nice elderly housing unit would be best for them, which makes sense and I wish them the best...but what about me?  Who is going to buy their house?  What are our new neighbors going to be like?  I've never had to worry about this before now.  When we got married we moved one town over to a rental house where the only neighbors were the pothead caretaker that lived in the trailer next to our other neighbors, who were all dead.  Then we moved in with my parents to save money, lived in a couple of apartments and then we are where we are now.

Now I am faced with the anxiety of wondering who the new neighbors will be...

TK-421 do you copy?

What if they are porn film makers like in PIWTPITT?  That would be awkward...the house is a small house with many windows.  I mean if this was fifteen years ago and I was still single I would be saving hundreds of dollars by grabbing a bag of microwave popcorn and watching the show across the street, but now with a wife and three boys it would be awkward...if I got caught...

Well I suppose it could be worse....

What if they are circus clowns?  I rarely use the word hate, but I HATE clowns.  They creep the shit out of me.  I don't even want to imagine waking up for work and while taking the dog out looking across the street and seeing some freakazoid in red hair and makeup wearing a wife beater and plaid shorts mowing the lawn.  Fucking Flippo.

...like this.  Brother and sister?

What if they are white trash?  Not that I have anything against the people from the Mos Eisley Cantina but I have noticed that the outskirt houses are turning slightly white trashy.  The neighbors now have a very nice kept yard, nice cars, and the house looks nice.  We had an outskirt neighbor who had a house that looked like something out of Candy Land down the road, it was cute (so my wife says).  They moved out and in moved the castaways from Mos Eisley...you know the scum and villainy?  The house and yard went from Candy Land to Borderlands.  I don't want to wake up and see three Jeeps up on blocks, a big ugly mutt chained to a tree and the kids running around in diapers at the age of four.  No offense to any white trash readers of mine, you're cool with me, just don't be my neighbor.

My only hope is that they are either another retired couple, a newly married couple looking for their first home and want to raise a nice kid or George Lucas.  Time will tell I guess, we received a letter in the mail yesterday asking for references and of course we gave good ones.  I am sure the house won't sell right away...right?  Please tell me I'm right...

By the way, I want to point out that there is a difference between redneck and white trash...

Like I've always said...we solve problems.

This is a problem....

The Perfect Man?

This guy does NOT qualify...

On my way to work this morning I heard a quick little blurb on the radio about a poll done by the UK clothing retailer, Austin Reed who polled 2,000 women on what makes the perfect man.  They took the top thirty answers and published them.  Now for the life of me I cannot find the actual poll via the Google, but I have come across many radio station websites that have the same list.

I curious on how I stack up to what these 2,000 women think makes the perfect man.  Like Richard Dawson on Family Feud (without the groping) I say, "The top thirty answers are up on the board."  The ones that I qualify for are in green and the ones that the psycho women who were hand picked by Austin Reed think should apply..er, I mean the ones that I don't match are in red.

1.  Six feet tall.  I'm 6'1", does that count or does the alpha male need to be exactly 6'?  Confusing...

2.  Muscles, toned and athletic.  Shit...batting .500 here so far.  Does some muscles, fluffy and doesn't get winded easily count?

3.  Brown eyes.  People tell me I am so full of shit that my eyes are brown.

4.  Short dark hair.  I have short brown hair....what does dark exactly mean?  Again confusing...

5.  Smart dress sense.  I can pick out my own clothes and dress myself, I would call that smart right?

6.  Stylish.  Well, what constitutes as being stylish?  Being stylish to one person, means something totally different to another, these women seem to be very vague about their answers.  I see a trend here...

7.  A beer drinker.  Perfect.  I've that down to an art, I am a professional beer drinker.  I think I'll open one up right now.

8.  A non-smoker.  Awesome!  I don't smoke death sticks so I'm good there.

9.  Wears smart jeans, shirt and a v-neck jumper.  Huh?  What the hell are smart jeans?  Are they like a smart phone where you can multi-task in them?  Do they make phone calls, text and download porn at the same time?  Also, what the fuck is a v-neck jumper?  The last I knew a jumper was either a.  a person who is suicidal or b.  a full body suit Jiffy Lube technicians wore in the '90s.  Does this make you stylish?

10.  Gets ready in 17 minutes.  No problem, I can be showered, shaved and clothed in 10 minutes, but again does it have to be 17 minutes exactly?

11.  Earns around $77,000 a year.  OK...I see where most women's minds are at...whatever happened to judging character and being yourself you money grubbing whores?  (The ones polled, not the ones ready this of course)

12.  Wants a family. I can see that, I have a family, I enjoy them.  What was the age range of the women polled though?  If it was 21-35, it could be mixed reviews but if it was 35-45 then the biological clock is ticking and a family starts slipping through their grasps.

13.  Loves shopping.  Is your ideal man gay?  I don't know any guy personally who LOVES shopping.  I enjoy shopping....at places I want to go, but it gets old...fast.

14.  Eats meat.  Whew!  Thank the maker for that .  I'm glad to see that a woman doesn't want a gaunt, skinny, tofu farting...well you get the idea.  Excuse me, I'm going to get another beer and grill a steak now.

15.  Watches soaps.  Um....first, if you are earning $77,000 a year, when do you have time to watch soap operas?  Second, are soaps still on the air?  No man should be excited to know if Grant Rockhard falls in love with Linda Openlegs on As the Days Turn.

16. Clean-shaven.  Nice!  I can't grow any real facial hair anyway.

17.  Smooth-chested.  Well, seeing I look like an overweight Wookie, this gets tossed out the window.

18.  Enjoys watching football.  OK...I will watch football and I will enjoy watching football, but I do not plan my Sundays around the games...does that make me less of a man?

19.  Drives an Audi.  No wonder the guy has to make $77,000 a year.  Audis are freaking expensive.  Tony Stark drove them in the Iron Man movies and he was a millionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

20.  Well-educated.  I have two years in college...what does well educated mean?  I like to think I am educated on some things..that I care about...like Star Wars, food and Scouts.

21.  Earns more than his partner.  Again....money grubbing whores.

22.  Jokes around and has a laugh.  I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, which reminds me, next time you see me ask me about the Pink Story.  I think people who read this can attest to a decent sense of humor.

23.  Sensitive when you are upset.  I'm sensitive when my wife is upset....because she is usually upset at me.

24.  Tells you he loves you only when he means it.  I love you, now can I stick my pee-pee in your va-jay-jay?  I have only used the words I love you when I meant it and not counting my Mom, it was roughly three times and I meant it.  If you say I love you to get in a girl's pants, you sir are a complete vaginal, yeast infected blood fart and I hope the girl has some sort of venereal disease.

25.  Admits it when he looks at other women.  I admit it, I look at other women, if you didn't look you are either dead or gay.  It's like a car dealership, we'll look around at other models but when we leave we are still parking in the same garage...wait, that didn't come out right....

26.  Has a driver's license.  Again, you wouldn't have an Audi and make $77,000 a year if you didn't have a license, unless it was from drinking too much beer.

27.  Can swim.  I can swim, no problem.  The cool thing is I am naturally buoyant, I can float standing straight up and down, it's a gift, I know.
 
28.  Can ride a bike.  What man doesn't know how to ride a bike?  Isn't that the first big gift you get as a kid?  A brand new Huffy at Christmas under the tree, where in New England you have to wait 5 months before you get to use your new bike that you got for Christmas, thanks Santa...

29.  Can change a tire.  Seeing that my full time job deals with tires, check!

30.  Calls his mother regularly.  Awww isn't that sweet?  If he is calling his mother regularly, that usually means he is looking for a mother figure in you...do you really want that?  Sorry, I can't call my Mom anymore, not to bring everyone down.

So those are the top thirty traits and aspects of the perfect man?  19 out of 30, not being well educated let me break out the calculator to figure out the percentage.....please hold..... a 63% match, not that great, I wonder what my wife sees in me?



Now, to be fair, I need to do a search to see if someone did a legitimate poll of 2,000 men on what they think the perfect woman is stay tuned....

Did You Spray In There?

...is heard through our house at least four or five times a day.

It doesn't matter...it won't mask a Minion fart.

What can I say?  We are a household with four males and one female...well, five males and three females if you count the cats and dog, which I think I will because they can be stinky fuckers too.

People with daughters constantly complain that they are in the bathroom all the time, which is probably true, I have friends who have daughters (one is probably going to be my daughter-in-law the way things are going) and I have seen the "feelings" and experienced the "prepping".  But...if you are a member of the exclusive club known has The Three Boy Club, you have definitely experienced the...stench.

Hmm...Ninja Diaper Baby?

It wasn't so bad before potty training (BPT if you will), when #3 had his own personal latrine attached to his ass and there were only three of us blowing up the bathrooms.  I say three of us because I am fully convinced that the female gender (pre-age 60) only shits once a day where the average male (age 1-99) takes a deuce two to three times a day.

Before I get too far ahead of myself let me tell you about the curse I have inherited from my parents and have passed along to my Minions.

Just follow this to the crapper.

My entire life both my parents have had, how would you say, a shitting problem, not constipation but just regular...really regular.  Yup you guessed it, the Minions and myself poop two to three times a day, so our bathrooms have landing strips with phosphorus glow-in-the-dark paint and warning lights.  Even thought we have a half bath that anyone can use, we all fight for the master bath...for obvious reasons.  It has a nicer toilet, it's bigger, there is always toilet paper available, the usual reasons.

Just this evening we had a situation with the Minions and myself.  I came home from work and did my routine of changing and then dropping a stink pickle.  Now, like most Dads I know, we savor this time in the shitter because it's quiet..for the most part.

Enter the Minions...

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. 

Sigh, "What?"

"I need to poop Dad!"

"So use the little bathroom!"

"I can't, #2 is in there already." (HA, #2 taking a #2...ironic...)

"Well you need to wait, I'm almost done."  (Now I am giving play-by-play commentary on my pooping.)

"Hurry up...#3 needs to poot too."

"He's got his own pot to use!"

"He doesn't want to use that one."  (Now my two year old is making decisions...great...)

So I pinch it off, wipe, wash my hands (yes...I wash after I go to bathroom) and open the door for #1.

"Dad!  You smell!  Did you spray in here?"

"Yes I sprayed, besides your turds don't exactly smell like lilacs now do they?"

Now my wife enters the scene with #3.

"Jesus, would it kill you to spray in once in a while?"

"I did spray!"

"No he didn't Mom, it smells baaaaaddddd in here huh?"

"Ewwwwww."  (Says #3)

"What do you mean ewwww?  Have you smelled your diaper pail lately?"  (Now I'm arguing with #3...I'm losing it...)

Now all three of them are staring at me like I just destroyed some priceless work of art, so I leave...knowing full well I didn't spray.  I enter the kitchen, where the half bath is located near and #2 comes bounding out of the bathroom with a resounding "Ahhhhhhhh, boy".

"Did you spray in there?"

"It was the cat."

"It doesn't matter who it was, go spray."

We have almost as much spray in our house as we do Bath and Body Works items....

Mother's Day Musings

I know this is a day late, so sue me, I was busy trying to make sure my wife had an enjoyable Mother's Day...although I may have failed, she is still sticking to her story about it being a good Mother's Day.

I tried, I really did try.  I did my best, isn't that the Cub Scout motto that I teach many other people's boys every week?  I tried....

I started at 6:30 with the knock, knock, knocking on Stinky's door.  I was prepped and ready for this wake up call, I flew out of bed and opened #3's door, whooshed him into the bathroom so he could pee...and of course pass a copious amount of gas.  #2 came down stairs and the first thing I told him was, "Shhhh, you need to be quieter this morning, we're going to let Mom sleep in."  Nodding, he bounds his way into the bathroom to make as much noise as possible, I guess he has decided to be the Incredible Hulk today...good idea #2.  #1 tip toes his way down into the kitchen holding several presents wrapped in pastel tissue paper.  I looked in amazement at the amount of homemade gifts the Minions had created for the person who lugged them around for nine months.  #1 is no rookie at Mother's Day and knows the routine.

Puny Dad yelled at Hulk..Hulk sad..

My plan failed, the woman we are all supposed to be honoring...woke up.  She seems to be able to lock onto my voice, like a sound wave seeking missile that only COBRA could come up with in GI Joe.  Not, #3 arguing about what he wants for breakfast, not #1 dropping the toilet lid down and of course not #3 Hulking up in the dining room, stomping across the floor, it was my voice that was locked onto.  I am convinced that every good mom has some sort of super powers like eyes in the back of their heads, the stare of death...you know those kind of powers.

Well things worked out and it turned out to be a pretty decent day, at least that is what she told me.  She loved the lilac bush, the homemade gifts from the Minions and the family bike ride we took (despite #2 crashing into her bike twice).  Throughout the day I started thinking I wonder what Father's Day will bring for me?  Then I started to ponder over the difference between Mother's and Father's day.  Holy shit!  They are completely different, yet exactly the same.

Now before I get into too much trouble from the following list, let me clarify that I have been through eight Father's Days and each one has been really good and I've enjoyed them all, it's convenient that they happen to fall on my only day off.  I am not complaining from the past, at all, hell I got a kayak last year, but there are very distinct differences.

Both Mother's and Father's Day are the same where you honor the respected figures for each day, you thank them for raising you or giving birth to you, conceiving you....actually that would be kind of awkward...really awkward..."Hey Mom, how are you?  I'm fine.  I just called to wish you a Happy Mother's Day and to thank you for letting Dad mount you from behind like a horny gorilla during that snow storm back in 1976."


1.  On Mother's Day, the Dad and children attempt the let the Mom continue her slumber, most of the time the plan fails due to loud noises, children arguing, things being dropped, etc.  On Father's Day, the Mom and children let the Dad sleep, but he awakens because he has things he needs to do that day like mow the lawn, wash the car, paint the house, etc.

2.  On Mother's Day many fine restaurants offer a Mother's Day Brunch costing a minimum of $25 per person  and offering everything from prime rib and eggs to a chocolate fountain.  Have you ever used a chocolate fountain?  It's ridiculous and delicious...I want one and I don't even really like chocolate.  On Father's Day the local coffee shop offers a free cup of coffee if you are a Dad.

3. On Mother's Day the baseball players use pink bats, wear pink batting gloves and pink cleats.  On Father's Day you might catch a glimpse of a blue ribbon on the uniform.

4.  On Mother's Day everyone reminds you to have a mammogram to promote breast cancer awareness and yes I know what they do...they smoosh your boobs, flatten them out, stomp on them...I know. On Father's Day the everyone reminds Dads to go to the doctor so he can shove a finger up your ass to check your prostate.  Can't they figure out something different for both?

5.  On Mother's Day, Moms usually get flowers, massages and treated to dinner out.  On Father's Day, Dads get tools to fix the deck, a six pack of beer and food to grill on the newly fixed deck.

6.  On Mother's Day the children make all sorts of neat school and home made projects to give to mom, usually a picture frame with a nice picture of the child or a poem saying how special Mom is, complete with a hand print.  On Father's Day, the children hand over a card they threw together the night before because they were reminded it was Father's Day from Outback Steakhouse in a commercial break during Spongebob Squarepants.

7.  On Mother's Day, grown children will call their Mom and wish them a Happy Mother's Day.  On Father's Day, grown children will call their Dad...collect and wish them a Happy Father's Day, costing him money.

8.  On Mother's Day, Mom gets a nice piece of jewelry, usually picked out by the Dad and then he lets the children give the gift to her, Moms generally wear jewelry on day to day basis.  On Father's Day, Dad get a necktie, even when he doesn't wear a necktie on a regular basis.  Mom lets the children pick out the tie resulting in some sort of god awful, butt ass, ugly tie that you would only find at stores like Walmart or the Dollar Tree.

9. On Mother's Day, commercials prompt people to let Mom enjoy the day, let her relax (again I tried) and to shower her with gifts.  On Father's Day, commercials suggest to let Dad build something, do yard work or grill for everyone in the neighborhood.

10.  On Mother's Day, you are expected to respect and honor your Mom because she endured nine months of pain and torture and gave birth to you.  On Father's Day, Dad's do not get credit for being part of the birth process, yet without him and his wonder shot, you would not be standing around today.

All in all though, Moms deserve to have a day to get pampered, spoiled and treated like queens, if a guy had to bear the barbaric torture know as childbirth, there wouldn't be anyone left on this planet.

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there reading this.

T.G.I.F. it...

If you will recall a post I did some time ago, 6 Day Work Week and Jar-Jar Binks, you will know that my full time job requires me to work six days a week and Sunday being my only day off...kind of like God but not as creative.  "And on the seventh day he res...did chores around the house."

So when people say T.G.I.F. or Hooray Weekend! on the radio or on Facebook I want to extend my arm, pull it back slightly and smack them upside the cranium and for those of you that have three day weekends...kiss my hairy, white, left ass cheek and make the right one jealous.  I choose this path of working six days a week back in 1994 so it was my own grave I dug.

Anyway, it was a fairly normal morning in the household.  The sad thing is each morning is like Ground Hog's Day, it's the same thing over and over and over, except the variation of what each of the three Minions do.  Let me walk you through this morning (and pretty much every morning).

Ah, my Minions.

#3

It starts with the rhythmic knock, knock, knocking on #3's door.  He can open doors no problem but for some reason he cannot open his bedroom door so he knocks....and knocks....and knocks until someone lets him out.  He is potty training so my wife jumps out of bed and opens the door for him, they rush into the bathroom where you hear a deafening fart from my little two year old.  If this country runs low on natural gas just shove a pipeline up #3's ass and we will be supplied for years.


I wait for the bathroom to clear out before I go through my morning ritual, which I have already told you about in the past here.  After my morning ritual is done, #1 and #2 usually appear in that order.

#1

 #1 is old enough to start making his breakfast...I used the word start because inevitably he forgets about it and gets involved in something else, like this morning.  He came down, we exchanged pleasantries of Good Morning and he proceeded to put some bread in the toaster oven.  My wife comes over after the, now toast, has been sitting there for several minutes and asks whose toast this is, knowing full well whose it is.  After three kids her mind has become that of an 85 year old, it's one of the side effects I've been told.  #1 looks at her confused at this point and then quickly realizes it was his toast, he gets it, butters/schmeres/jellies it and then promptly complains because it is cold and hard.  #1 is also known as Captain Obvious.

#2

#2 bounds down the stairs looking like he is ready for class with Professor Snape at Hogwarts.  He is wearing his Harry Potter glasses, wearing his Gryffindor robes and carrying The Prisoner of Azkaban.  #2 is only 5 years old but reads chapter books....Harry Potter chapter books.  This scares the shit out of my wife and me 1.  because he will start thinking he can be a wizard and we'll end up taking him to the ER with a broken bone from playing Quidditch and 2.  he is smar...book smart, beyond his years.  He finds his place at the breakfast counter and waits for breakfast.

#3 climbs into his chair complete with booster seat and starts his chant of mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy.  My wife has the uncanny ability to tune this out but yet it makes my eye twitch and I snap saying something I will quickly regret like, "Seeing your mom is ignoring you, what can I do for you?"  Oops....

Vampires don't sparkle!

I am out the door thinking it's not so bad working six days a week and thank the maker for my wife and her um, patience...

I usually check my email and stuff online once I get to the area I am working and the first thing that hits me is the cover of Time magazine with some woman shoving her tit into a 5 year old's mouth.  Ahhhh, gotcha, that's how my Friday is going to go huh?  I'm sure EVERYONE has seen this cover by now and I rarely get caught up in shock factors, but here it is in case you haven't seen it.

Should I be grossed out or slightly turned on?

First thing I saw was the kid, not the boob, the kid.  What the fajita?  Seriously?  The kid is three years, that shit should have stopped long ago.  The second thing I noticed (and I already had this blog in the shoot before I read PIWTPITT so I am not copying her) but this is not what I would expect to see when I hear about some sort of tree hugging parenting like this.  She is fairly attractive, what I would picture would be a deadlocked, granola eating, Subaru driving, tofu farting hippie from Vermont.  I have not read the article, nor will I read the article but it seems to me that, and this is from a Dad point of view, if you raise your kid this way, called attachment parenting, it would seem that he or she would be the subject of some serious ass kickings in school.  Does this way of parenting continue until they are 18?  I am not going to continue on this rant but what the hell are some people thinking?

I don't know about you but I was looking at boobs slightly differently by the time I turned 13, just saying....

Mmmmm boobies.