Real Retirement

Things happen to me everyday that I could write on this blog. I refuse to write anything serious or sad, as I find that to be a downer for me, and anyone that is reading. Serious and sad is for 60 minutes, or 20-20, not for a little blog that has an audience of 10. I can turn almost all situations into humor, which is the way I try to approach each day. I operate under the “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry” theory. So Dad vs. Dad is strictly written with humor in mind.

I will not write about anything that is not somewhat funny. I will not write about my bad days, and I will not write about my negative happenings. I do not find any therapeutic value in writing about sad events, or fights and arguments. This particular approach of mine, limits what I can write about. I read, and have read many, many blogs. I find that most of them are decent, but are also very repetitive. Different events, and or experiences are written in the same way. Basically I am reading the same thing, over and over, and over again. My writing has become that same very thing. Different story, told the same way. I am repetitive in my writings. Funny stuff happens to me, and I tell the story. I tell the story the same way I told the last funny story. Rocky 6 comes to mind. Get over it Sylvester, move on to something else.

It was fun when it was fresh and new, but that was a long time ago. I can’t be just another blogger. I need to take my jokes to a new audience. I should go over to My Space, or whatever the hell it is called. I need to go be fresh and new again. No offense people, but the time has come to retire. I do not want to bore you with my meaningless rants any longer. I cannot be just another run of the mill blogger, and that is where I am heading.

Solo on Solo

I knew that it would happen. I knew it would happen, but I did it anyway. I knew that some day I would have to explain myself, and that day has come. I told my son that Han Solo’s real name was Kyle Solo. I did this to avoid a major meltdown in the middle of the toy store. I did this a long time ago, and at the time it was a thing of beauty. I have posted about the event in the past, and was enamored with myself for my quick thinking and wisdom. I found my ability to improvise and adapt to be uncanny. Now I think, the jig may be up.

Kyle and Luke were just getting into Star Wars when I lied to him about Solo’s name. I never really thought that they would really get into Star Wars at the time; I just thought it was a fad. Now they play the Star Wars video games, and they watch the movies. They know more characters than I do. It is fun to watch how into it they get, but now I am caught. The other day Kyle walked up to me and said, “Dad, is Han Solo’s real name Kyle, or not?” I was a little puzzled at the question, but I looked up and said, “Yeah buddy, why do you ask?” He got a bit miffed, and put an angry look on his face and replied, “Well dad, you are the only person that I have ever heard call him Kyle. I have watched the movies and played the games, and nobody has ever called him Kyle. Did you make it up? Is his name Kyle Solo, or not?”

Now, I have been called on the carpet before. I have been pushed into a corner. I have been in these types of situations before, but never by a cute little 6 year old. He wanted an answer, and he wanted it at that very moment. I started thinking about telling him the truth. If I tell him the truth I can end this charade right now. He will be devastated, and he will hate me for a while, but he will get over it. He will ultimately come to terms with the fact that he does not have a namesake in the Star Wars saga. Or I can let the lie linger for a little while longer. I am sure that I can milk this for a few more months. He is not really talking to his friends about Star Wars yet. That is when the real problems will occur. Friends ruin everything, don’t they?

I was at a crossroads. I had to think, and I had to think fast. I had a decision to make that will impact me sometime in the near future. I decided that I have to do the right thing, so I let the lie linger. Yeah, and when his friends finally reveal that Han Solo’s real name is Han, I will tell Kyle that his friends are lying. “They don’t know what they are talking about.” I will say.

Copy Cat

Bill, from Poop and Boogies, started the day with a shameless ploy for attention. He claims to blog for the love of it, but basically he is just a comment-seeking whiner. He has been unhappy with his site lately, and needed a little pick me up. I can’t believe that he would stoop to such levels. I am even more in shock at the response from you readers. He has had more action in three hours than he has had in the past week.

This got me to thinking. I should copy Bill’s idea. Hey people, can you comment on my site and tell me where you are from, and stuff? I need attention, and I want you people to show me the love. Thanks in advance for your support.

Sticker Shock

I didn’t even do anything. I swear I have been a perfect angel. Well, sure, there is the occasional wise-ass remark. Every once in a while I may leave some things out where they don’t belong. Now and again I may be in a grumpy mood, but nothing I have done deserved what happened this weekend.

I was getting ready for the day. The kids had already been dressed, and they were eating their breakfast. I went upstairs and got dressed. I didn’t think anything of it. I went through the normal routine. Underwear first, socks second, then pants then shirt. This is the same way that I always get dressed. As I was putting my socks on, I felt a little pull or irritant, or scratch in the underwear region. I stood up, and did a little wiggle, and then I made the proper adjustments. The discomfort went away, and I went back to getting dressed. Everything seemed fine.

I went down stairs, and poured my third cup of coffee, and started towards the family room. As I was walking, another pull in the underwear region got me dancing. I was shaking one leg at a time to try to get the pain to stop. I hopped around for a bit to try and get the situation under control. Then it hit me; the blinding pain of hair being ripped from the skin. It stopped me in my tracks. What the hell is in my underwear? I had to check it out. It must be a bug. I must have ants in my pants. I thought that was just an expression, but here I am with something in my pants.

I am standing in the kitchen with my pants half down, and checking out my privates. Kyle and Luke are laughing at me and wondering why I am doing the jig, while being half naked. Then I find the culprit. Stickers. There are two stickers attached to my privates, and I have to get them off. I have only one question. What the hell are stickers doing in my underwear? I certainly did not put them there. Vicki! She sabotaged my underwear. She knew what the ramifications of putting stickers in my underwear would be. She claims she had nothing to do with it, but I have my eyes on her now. I will perform a thorough investigation of every pair of underwear, before I put them on.

It hurt like hell removing those stickers from my you-know-whats. My wife is clever, and she is out to get me. I will keep you all posted. She claims innocents in the entire devilish plan, but if not her, then Who?

Sticks and Stones

We were sitting in the back yard enjoying the nice day. The boys were playing like boys do. They were rough, and rambunctious. Every once in a while Vicki or I would have to jump in and separate them from each other, but for the most part things were fine.

The game of tackle football had ended, and without me noticing at first, a rock-throwing contest broke out. First they were throwing our decorative rock for distance. At some point in the contest, accuracy was an added feature. Then, finally, like most of my boy’s games go, they were playing war with them. They were throwing rocks at each other. I stepped in, and broke up the rock battle. They were a little upset at me for stopping them, but I had to let them know it was not safe.

While I was trying to stop the rock war, Luke dropped all of his ammunition, and turned to walk away. Kyle was a little slower in giving up his weapons. He wanted to go back to throwing them for distance. As I was explaining to him that he had better drop the rocks, he looked at me, and dropped all but one. That last one went into the back of Luke’s head. So, Luke started crying, Kyle got sent to his room. Vicki went in to talk to Kyle about his left-handed fastball, and I was left to console Luke. I managed to get Luke to calm down, and he had a minor bump on his head, but was fine.

After a while, Kyle was allowed out of solitary confinement. When he did come out, I asked him what he had to say to his brother. I was expecting an apology. I wanted him to say he was sorry for using Luke’s noggin as target practice. I said, “Kyle, what you did was not nice. You should know better than to throw rocks at your little brother. Now what do you have to say to Luke?” He looked at me, then he looked at Luke and he said, “Luke, you’re slow, you should have ducked faster.”

Now, how do you parent that?

Blogger Governor

Poop and Boogies is fabrication and Deceit.

P&B only writes the cute, lovable stories.

He sucks in his voters with pictures and anecdotes that make all believe he is sweet.

William is afraid to divulge his dark side, for fear of losing readers.

William is funnier from the dark side, but hides behind a Knight in Shinning Armor façade.

William is a Comment Monger, nothing more, nothing less.

If you want a blog that gets to the details of all aspects of life, you want Dad Vs Dad. DVD does not lie, cheat, or steal. DVD tells it like it is, no questions asked. (Most times that is, if my wife is really mad at me for something, I avoid writing anything about her that may get her even madder. Cause if she gets more mad, I go further in the dog house, but for the most part I tell it how it is.)

DVD should be your Blog for the next four years. DVD! Where the truth is told, and sometimes hurts. LW is a blogger of the people, for the people.

I am the Lawnwhisperer, and I approve of this message.

Hi Lawnwhisperer!

Hi, my name is Lawnwhisperer, and I am a chipsanddipaholic. I have been clean for 12 days now. Let me tell you, it sucks.

This is not a self-imposed banning of my favorite snack; it is more of a joint venture between my wife and I. Somewhere about two or three weeks ago I had mentioned the possibility of the ban. It was a weak moment for me, and I said some things that I regret. I said, “If you don’t buy them, I won’t eat them!” I didn’t mean to say such things. I apologized a thousand times for making that remark. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. My wife has stood her ground, and has kept our house chips free. All this time, I have thought that my wife doesn’t listen to a word I say, and here she is listening. Go figure.

My love affair with chips goes deeper than just the chips. It’s the chips and dip combo. Yes I will eat chips alone, but they are simply not as good that way. Also, I have three favorite brands of chips. I like Lays, the popular national brand. I like Herrs, which is also a popular national brand. My favorite brand is Goods, which I believe is a brand from around where I live. How can a guy not like chips when his favorite brands put in a sentence is Lay Herr Good? I may be reading into that a bit, but I think that this is part of my affection to chips. Anyway, I have been chip free, and hating it. I am a pretzel and cracker guy for the time being. Pretzels and crackers suck.

Fit for a King

I have been married for 9 years. 9 years. For almost 7 of those years she has been lying to me. For seven years she has been deceitful, and hurtful. She has kept a secret from me for the better part of seven years, but last night, I caught her. I don’t know if I can forgive her, but I will try. I am not sure that I will ever be able to believe her again, but I am willing to give her another chance. Most people would just walk out in this situation, but I will try to keep things together. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, if at first we try to deceive.” It goes something like that. Now, my wife has some explaining to do, and I will be listening. I will be listening to every word to try and find out when this lie started.

Last night I got home from work, and went through my normal routine. I noticed that there was something in the dryer, so I checked it out. The sheets were in there. They were all balled up, so I separated them, and continued running the dryer. A little later, after dinner, my wife was helping the kids with homework and stuff, so I decided I would go make the bed. I took the sheets from the dryer, and went up to the room. Then it happened. I caught her in the trap. “Hah”, I yelled. “YOU CAN SO MAKE A KING SIZED BED BY YOURSELF. THIS IS NOT A TWO PERSON JOB.”

For seven years my wife has asked me to help her make the bed. She claims that the bed is too big, and it is too hard to put the fitted sheet on the bed. She claims that the corners don’t stay on, and that it takes two people to do this job. Now, I don’t mind helping, but she always calls me to help while I’m in the middle of something. Or she calls me to help her make the bed, just as the Eagles are about to score, or just when I sit down. I ask her every time why, and her response is always, “John, this bed is too big, it can not be made by one person. It’s a two person job.”

Well, well, well. Her gig is up now isn’t it? I will agree that it is easier to make with two people. I will agree that when you do it yourself, it is annoying. I do not; however, believe that it is a two-man job. My wife has been leading me on for years. She has flat out lied to me, and I believed her. You know what? I bet my wife can cook. She wouldn’t? Would she?