Who The Hell Am I?
When she met me I had a Mohawk.
Now…
I have hair on my shoulders.
When she met me I was playing hockey.
Now…
I am speed walking on the treadmill.
…read more
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When she met me I had a Mohawk.
Now…
I have hair on my shoulders.
When she met me I was playing hockey.
Now…
I am speed walking on the treadmill.
…read more
Warning: Please do NOT read this post if you think your kids suck. Do NOT read on if you are a rotten parent that can’t stand reading about other parents who are obviously far more skilled, loving and awesome than you are at being parents. Continue reading only if you can see the sheer perfection of your children literally dripping off of their angelic little bodies without being aided by anti depressants or other mood altering narcotics.
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Warning: Please do NOT read this post if you think your kids are perfect, if you are easily offended by inappropriate language or if you have a shitty sense of humor about your children. Continue reading only if you admit that your kids are annoying or that they have sucked at any point in time.
I love being a dad. That much I can tell you. I can list a number of reasons that would support that statement but for now I choose not to. What happens to be on my mind lately is how much having kids can suck. I’m not saying that having children sucks all of the time but rather a majority of the time. I know that most parents think their kids are annoying. I know that most parents tend not to talk about this in public. I also know what parents think are annoying about their kids. How do I know this? Because I asked. This is only a small sampling of what you said:
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This is one of those posts that probably won’t translate quite the way I intended it to. But I have to tell you that I couldn’t help myself this time. I’ve always tried to write this blog with sincerity. I continually try to put my heart out there for everyone to see. I have also been very conscious of keeping the content of this blog to that of a more anecdotal tone. In other words, I don’t like bragging about my kids or gushing over their specific achievements or milestones. I try not to post cutesy pictures of birthday parties, messy cupcake faces or first poop poops on the potty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that at all. There are a ton of great parenting blogs that chronicle the lives of their kids and they are absolutely adorable.
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Ok people. If you haven’t already noticed, we’re fucked. The housing market shit the bed a year or two ago. The credit crisis has pretty much crippled our economy and the stock market feels about the same as a drunken weekend in Vegas gone awry. Folks that were once considered filthy rich are either in prison or living in their parent’s basement. Everyday people that work like dogs to support their families are losing their jobs, their houses and basically fighting for their collective lives. Small businesses can’t get loans from banks that were once giving away cash like beads at Mardi Gras. Our educational system is under funded and broken. Young men and women are dying in countries whose names we can’t even pronounce. For god sakes, Paula Abdul has a career! What the hell is going on in this country?
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In 1982 I bought my first electric guitar. I was twelve years old. It was a used black Memphis. I bought it from Danny Tramantozzi. It was an absolute piece of shit. That didn’t really matter though. I couldn’t really play anything at that point anyway. I bought it with the hope that I would someday be able to Rock. On that day I made a promise to myself. I made the ultimate commitment. I pledged my skinny ass, freckled face allegiance to Heavy Metal. I would only worship the Metal Gods. Hard Rock was to be my lover and I was a one woman kind of guy.
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Today my six year old daughter asked me two of the most intellectually profound questions I’ve ever been asked in my life. This could be due to several things but I’m assuming she’s either very smart or I associate with very stupid people. Perhaps it could be a little bit of both.
The two questions were:
1) Why is everything made in China? and
2) Are you the Tooth Fairy?
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Lately I’ve been noticing a certain shift in the balance of power in my household. At first It presented it self subtly but it’s gotten quite out of hand as of late. I hate to admit it but I feel like I’m starting to lose control. I am 100% aware that the odds are stacked against me. I am also obviously cognizant of the fact that I am Out-Numbered in more ways than one.
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I first noticed it a few months ago. I was exercising one morning and as usual my oldest daughter was watching television and keeping me company. I wasn’t paying attention to the television or anything in particular except not having a heart attack on the treadmill. My daughter turned to me and tried to get my attention. “Daddy.” I tried to signal to her in between strides to give me a second to finish up. “DADDY!” She was very impatient. Something seriously important was on her tiny little mind. I smacked the emergency stop button and practically fell off the machine.
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Every year my family and I make our annual pilgrimage to West Palm Beach, Florida to visit my in-laws. During the week leading up to our departure, my friends and co-workers ask me the same question over and over again. “How excited are you for your vacation?” I always have the same response. “Uh… it’s not really a vacation, so much as it’s a family trip but I guess I’m excited.”
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