Can You Pass The Damn Mashed Potatoes?

I manscaped today.  Yep!  I am looking pretty well manscaped today.

I’m just kidding.  Really, I am sure that none of you have any desire to hear about the shaving of any parts of my body. 

When I started this blog one of the things I swore not to do was to get too personal with my readers.  I was not going to bring you into my pants nor into my bedroom, although I did do that once with my son finding the “lightsaber” in our bed.  But that was a story too good to pass up.

With all that has been going on, or not going on, in my life it is almost like I am out of things to write about that don’t expose me.  I like being anonymous.  I am not knocking anyone that opens up to their readers but that is just not me. 

So for me to come on here and talk about my tic tac dick or bald as a baby man area or my conquest of women all over the country when I travel, well, it is just not going to happen.  That’s just not me. 

I might open up more about my kids, more specifically, my son.  He is a pisser.  The kid just makes me laugh my ass off and has been talking some real jems lately.  For example, out of the blue, we are at the dining room table eating dinner as a family when he turns to my daughter and asks, “Can you pass the damn mashed potatoes?”

My humorless wife gave him that burning stare.  You know, the one that mothers have when they are trying to use their Superman-like heat vision to incinerate you where you stand, or in this case sit.  But he did not burn into a crisp. 

I did laugh and could not hold back.  And the boy said it with a straight face and was completely serious. 

Now I am not a huge swearer.  I try very hard not to curse in frontof the kids.  But I do slip.  So does the wife.  But for him to pick that up and use it correctly and in the right context……………… well, that is a proud poppa moment right there.

So as I get back into the habit of writing this silly little blog I think that I will keep true to myself and my goal of not getting too personal but at the same time provide you with the world as I see it.

That Was A Good One Wasn’t It?

I am terrible when it comes to laughing at inappropriate times.  If there is something funny said or done when it is not the right place or time I will almost always laugh. 

This usually gets me into some trouble, especially my wife, who hates that I will embarrass her or, in the case of the children, encourage them to continue their funny ways.

The latest occurance is one involving my soon to be 5 year old son.  My wife and I were strolling through the local farmers market and were browsing in the furniture store where they make all the hand crafted wood tables and shelves and such and in there they also have many of the rustic or country decorations. 

My wife and I were very involved in looking in this store as we are looking for some new pieces to go with the newly painted rooms.  We were having a discussion when out of the handcrafted gazebo inside the store jumps out my son. 

He lands in a karate stance and yells “Look I am Michelangelo!”

He begins to swing wildly two hand crafted candles, the kind that have the wicks attached that you hang from a wall, like they are nunchucks. 

For all those that don’t get the Michelangelo reference, that is the name of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

My wife was mortified. 

I laughed. 

She scowled at me and yelled at him.  She yanked the candles from his hands and hung them back up in the gazebo and stormed out of the store all embarrassed leaving him and I standing there.

I took his hand to leave and find my wife when he looks up at me and says “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

Yes Buddy, it was!

Breaking and Entering

I have a serious concern about my soon to be 5 year old son.  I think that I need to start saving, not for college, but for bail.

This morning, the boy and I, before taking him to daycare, stopped at Best Buy to purchase the new Wii Fit (yes, this fat old ass of mine is going to try to lose weight using the Wii Fit program) and discovered that the store didn’t open for another 90 minutes. 

I explained to the boy that I would have to take him to day care and come back later and buy it.  The boy, in his very clever and infinite wisdom said, “But Dad!  You can go over to the bowling alley, get a bowling ball and throw it through the door and get it.”

I then had to explain to the chucklehead that that is illegal, that the cops would come and take me and him to jail and we would never see his mommy and sister and me again and in all his clever and infinite wisdom he replied, “Well, you could wait until dark, wait until everyone leaves and do it.  No one would see you and know you did it.”

Oy!

I think that it is time to restrict his television viewing to Barney, Sesame Street and the Wiggles again.

I am also taking up to collecting money for his bail out fund.  I think that I will really need to have one.  Anyone want to contribute?  I have Paypal.  😉

When He’s Right, He’s Right!

Let me start by saying it rained last night.

My four, soon to be five year old son and I were driving in the car this morning and we were enjoying a few moments of alone time.  He was looking out the window and pointed out to me the clouds in the sky.  He told me with strong confidence that those clouds were going to rain on us.

At the traffic light, I was able to get a good look at the clouds and tried to explain to him that the clouds he is seeing was fair weather clouds and that those types did not carry any rain. 

He seemed to accept that until I drove under a tree and as I did, drops of water from that tree hit the windshield and he proudly proclaimed that he was right, those clouds do make rain!

Moments like that, I know that there is a higher power getting revenge on me.