Crack Kills

Found this little gem while editing my backlog of old photos.

Student Aid Headache for a Two-Home Family

My teen daughter heads to college this fall, and we are busily dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s on necessary enrollment forms. (My funny college application essay must have gotten lost in the shuffle, because she actually got into a good school!)

The biggest hurdle for us as parents is funding her education. As such, we’re filling out the FAFSA – Free Application for Federal Student Aid. Whether she gets Federal aid or not isn’t the issue; pretty much every university financial aid office expects the form to be filled out before you can even apply for a student loan.

Only problem – the online FAFSA hasn’t been playing nice, especially with our daughter’s two-home living situation.

It started earlier this year when I filled out the FAFSA4caster – an online form that helps you predict how much aid you might qualify for. When the real FAFSA goes live, you can transfer all your data from the FAFSA4caster. Pretty cool, right?

Um, not exactly.

As a divorced single dad with majority (by one day) custody of my daughter, it was my responsibility to deal with the forms. I spent hours filling out the FAFSA4caster, only to discover it could only transfer data to last year’s FAFSA form. I asked FAFSA online chat help operators to assist me, and they told me it should work fine. It didn’t. When I finally reached someone on the phone, that FAFSA person said it didn’t work, after all, and I’d have to input all the data again.

Oy.

When I filled out the actual FAFSA, it went a little quicker. Only problem, both the parent and student have to “sign” it with an electronic pin ID – which you apply for separately. I had mine, but my daughter didn’t have hers yet, and she was at her mom’s house when I filled all this out. When she finally applied for and received her pin, we went online to submit the form –

And all my financial data was missing. WTF? Hours of my time went wasted again.

Meanwhile, my ex-wife was looking into her part of the financial aid equation. Many universities want financial data from both divorced parents, no matter which claims the child on tax returns. It wasn’t clear to my ex that you only fill out the FAFSA once, for the student, and not twice (once for each parent). Who can blame her - is anything in a government process clear?

My ex-wife logged into the FAFSA system, reset her password – and all my financial data showed up in her FAFSA account.

W-T-F ?????!!!!!!!

Thankfully, she didn’t delete all that information, and I hadn’t yet input it a third time. She and I spoke on the phone and sorted it out. She tried changing the password back, but that made the data disappear again. We found by keeping her password, my data was there just fine.

So now we’re now using an online FAFSA form with my financial data and my ex-wife’s password for my daughter’s application.

The lesson: only fill out ONE FAFSA for your student. Period. Don't pass Go. Don't collect $200. And be sure to use your Get Out of Jail Free card whenever you like.

Before I fill out another government form online, I’d like to have a cocktail in hand. Can someone shake up my best margarita recipe? It’s nearly cinco de mayo, after all. Tequila should help those government forms go down, real good. Don’t you think?

And just in case, why don’t you shake up that margarita recipe for my ex-wife, too.

Follow Dad's House on Facebook. Or just go straight to his single parent blog. Or not. Hell, just have a margarita, and call it day!

Racist Kids And The Chameleon - 3

The inner office reeked of a mixture of cologne, leather and pipe smoke. Standing in the doorway, now with a scared look on my face, I started towards the oversized burgundy leather couch. The principal stopped me and said, “Sit there!” pointing to a single wooden chair in the corner of the room. As I sat down, fear descended upon me.

The principal began by asking me what I had done…but he really did not care. I sat there and listened to him scold and talk down to me like I was not even worthy of being in “His” school. After leaving his office, I sat in the hall for a few minute and knew that this was going to be a battle. I put my plan into action…full force. The year started with my classroom remarks, making jokes, throwing crumpled papers at the teacher’s desk, and talking back to the teacher. I would get in trouble EVERYDAY and at least 3 times a week I would end up in the principal’s office. I knew that this was not good, but I also noticed that the other kids in the class were starting to laugh at me...whether it was something I said…or the fashion in which I was sent off to see the principal…shit…I did not care, they were actually laughing with me.

I carefully weighed the progress that I was making with the other kids against the trouble I was getting in at school and knew that I had to withstand the punishment that I got from my parents for the good of my physical safety. As the year progressed, fewer of the kids started fights with me and some actually prodded me, in class, to tell jokes and harass the teacher so that they could laugh. I was more than willing to accommodate them. There were still a few of the “tough guy” kids that wanted a piece of me and I knew that this would not end until I was able to hold my own on the playground.

I remember approaching the stairwell that led down to the lunch room one day and seeing a few of these kids standing at the landing…just waiting. I cleared my head and knew that I would have to fight them. There were three of them and I was terrified. As I got closer to them, I averted my eyes to see if I’d be able to just walk by them. That was not going to happen. They moved from leaning against the wall to blocking access to the stairs. I stood there not knowing what to do. There were people behind me and the stairwell above became crowded with kids watching this development. The three started to approach me, when from behind me, I heard a voice of another boy yell out, “one at a time!” I was in complete shock…there was someone that was standing up for me.

I quickly numbed myself, as I had learned to do over the years, balled up my fists and got into a fighting stance. The biggest of the boys moved forward. All I could see at that point was his huge fists. I knew that I would have to avoid them at all costs. The first swing came at my face. Quickly ducking, I felt his fist fly over my head. I backed up and he swung again, this time for my gut. I doubled over in pain as his fist seemed to go straight through me. Just then I told myself that if I did not beat this kid, I would really be in for it and that the plan that was working…would have been a complete waste and things would go back to the way they were. I struck out from where I was and landed a fist to his balls. (shit. I did not care about fair fighting…they never did.) He let out a yelp and went to a knee. I stood straight up and punched him square in the nose followed by the hardest kick I had ever delivered, straight to the center of his chest. The other two boys looked at each other and moved toward me. I did not know who to go after first …so I waited for them. As they approached, a boy from behind them held one of them back. I did not hesitate in my attack. I swiftly began to punch and kick this boy until his friend did not have to be restrained anymore…he just stood there and watched as I bloodied his “tough guy” friend.

A few minutes later, there was yelling from the top of the stairs. It was a teacher coming. Everyone disbursed and ran in different directions. That is...everyone except me. I just stood there with two boys in front of me, blood on there faces and blood splattered on my shoes and dripping from my hands. The teacher got to the landing and immediately grabbed me, while looking at the two kids’ injuries. Needles to say, they went to the nurse and me…off to the principal. Now, with my record with the principal…I was scared of what he might do.

The principal made me sit in his office, on that hard wooden chair for the rest of the day. I sat there, unable to say a word as he called my mother and told her about the incident. I did not know what she was saying, but his recount of what had happened was so ill-founded…the jerk wasn’t even there. I did worry about what I would say to my mother when I got home. I did not want her to make a big stink…knowing that it would only make things worse….but I was not the instigator of the fight and I wanted to be able to tell her that…but I knew that I couldn’t.

After that day, I found that my plan was indeed working. I not only had kids actually laughing WITH me but there were a few that would talk to me. Things got better from there. I still had fights here and there, was in trouble with teachers and the principal a lot…but I was making friends and the tough guys started to think twice before jumping me. Now that I had proven that I could fight.

The year was tough but I ended it with a couple pretty good friends…and a girlfriend. That was a great way to end a year in my book.

Racist Kids And The Chameleon - 2

It was never one on one and I could no longer just try to defend myself…I had to think of something to get out of the fights. Being outnumbered the way I was…I knew that I had to find another way. The fights …and hiding continued through 4th grade and that is when I finally figured that if I could not beat them, I’d have to find a way to join them. I spent that summer trying to figure out a way to make everyone like me …or at least put up with me.

Mid summer, it came to me. Now, I had 5 brothers and sisters and at home, I was a pretty funny guy and I also found that I had the ability to “change.” I could adjust my attitude and personality to fit well with the person that I was with. I spent the rest of the summer honing my chameleon-like skills…as well as my humor. It was going to be all or nothing this year. I could not continue hiding bruises, bloody nooses and fat lips on top of lying about the cuts and scrapes that I had gotten used to over the past few years.

At the arrival of the first day of 5th grade, I was waiting for the bus with my brothers and sisters. I was overrun with anxiety about the day ahead of me. With the recent years of practice I had become a pretty tough kid, but there was only so much I could do while outnumbered. I got frustrated, thinking of how I might be able to avoid the impending beatings that day. Just then, the bus pulled up. After watching my siblings hurry onto the bus and find seats with their friends, I realized that once again I would have to sit alone in the back seat.

Staring out the window, seeing a miserable little boy in the reflection in the glass, I knew that I had to change things…NOW. Hearing the laughter and fooling around in the seats in front of me made the silence and solitude of the back seat that much more intense. The 20 minute ride to school usually seemed like an eternity, but that day …it was different. By the time the bus pulled up in front of the school the reflection that I saw in the window had changed …to one resembling that of a scientist discovering the cure for a deadly disease. I had an idea and with all of the courage that I could muster…would try it today.

Making my way down the long corridor to class, I noticed the usual dirty looks, snickering and racist comments following me as I walked. I quickly took refuge in my classroom, which was empty for the moment. I sat at a desk and put more thought into the details of my plan. Smiling to myself, I was startled when the door opened again. It was Mrs. Brooks, my new teacher. As she walked in and closed the door, she looked over at me and greeted me with a smile and “good morning.” After putting her things down at her desk, she turned and asked me if everything was OK. Now I knew Mrs. Brooks from last year…she was one teacher that had always treated me fairly…and now I was going to ruin that. I, trying to hide the unfamiliar mischievous smile on my face, told her that everything was fine.

Just then, letting my eyes move back down to their normal position…staring at the front of my desk, as to not attract any unwanted attention. I watched as the other kids in the class started to file into the small classroom. All of the chatter and moving around ceased as Mrs. Brooks rose from her desk. My anxiety was high and I know that I was sweating profusely. I was lost in my own head, trying to decide when I should put my new plan into action.

I knew that my attitude change could not be too drastic – I needed this to work. After about 15 minutes, I found my first opportunity for my plan to start. After the class was done reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, the class was silent, waiting for our teacher to sit down and prepare for class. All of the sudden a fart erupted and echoed throughout the entire room. The whole class began to burst out into laughter…all except Mrs. Brooks. As the other kids in the class saw the extremely irritated look in her eyes, there were suddenly about a dozen fingers pointed directly at me.

Mrs. Brooks marched through the classroom and stood over me, with her hands on her hips. The look on her face was one of complete disgust and anger. This was a new side of her…one that I had never seen before. Her daunting presence gave off a very unfamiliar air of unemotional superiority from her…which was far different than the empathy and safety that I had felt …until now. Mrs. Brooks instructed me to stand up. As I did, she barked, “Why did you do that? It disrupted the entire class.” My planned response, an attempt to make my classmates laugh again – “I only burped…it just came out of my ass.”

Mrs. Brooks grabbed me by the back of my neck, obviously not worried about the fingernails that were working their way beneath my skin. She stormed me down the hall to the principal’s office. Upon entering the outer office, Mrs. Brooks informed the secretary that I had disrupted the class and was being vulgar and rude. On her way out the door, she glanced over her shoulder and added, I don’t want to see him in my classroom until after lunch.”

The secretary pointed to a row of hard wooden chairs across from her desk and instructed me to “sit.” She then quickly picked up her phone and whispered something …while glaring at me. Perched atop one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs, my eyes surveyed the room. There was a mixture of pictures, certificates and school rules pined to the textured walls. Until now…I had never noticed anything about this office…I had been here before, but generally stared at the floor. Time seemed to stand still, but it was really only a matter of minutes before the phone buzzed. The secretary looked at me and said, “He’ll see you now.”

Racist Kids And The Chameleon

Stemming from my adoption…I will give you a bit of a back story on me.

My natural mother is white and natural father is black (making me…an Oreo.) I was adopted in 1967, when I was 10 days old by a very loving couple (both white.) They already had one daughter and then had a miscarriage, so they decided to adopt me. Now, I can’t say how I felt then…cuz I was tiny little thing that only knew to cry, poo and eat. What I can say is that we lived in rural New Hampshire…where everything (except the leaves in the Fall) was white. Oh….but not me…I was/am more of a caramel. Anyway, life was good, at least from where I sat and in my baby world.

As I got a bit older (5 or 6), I started to experience racism…and this was even before I really knew what it was. I obviously knew that I looked different than EVERYONE…but I just thought that everyone WAS different…some pale, some pinkish, some fat, some skinny, some had black hair, some blonde, etc. I guess that I never really brought it up cuz I thought my skin was a bit darker. Boy it would be great if everyone had my 6 year old attitude. Soon after going into first grade and coming home from school with stories of people being mean and not seeing anyone else that looked anything like me, my mother sat me down for a discussion.

My mother told me that (in a longer, more descriptive way) that I was adopted and that one of my natural parents was black. At the time…I guess that was enough…now I knew why I was different. The community that we lived in was completely white. Iwas the only person of colorin the entire school at that point. My mother then told me that if people were being mean to me, that I should immediately tell my teacher or the principal. At the time…that sounded good to me, figuring that the teachers would straighten things out.

As time went on, kids were still mean and basically ignored me…unless they were picking on me. I told the teachers a few times, but the message that I got from them was, “kids this age can be mean…you have to just get used to it.”

In second and third grades, things got worse. There was more of the same nagging and kids making fun of me as well as a lot of pushing and instigating trouble. It was in third grade when I got into my first real fight. It was not what one would think of third graders, it was me trying to defend myself against several boys throwing punches and calling me “nigger.” After I thoroughly got thrashed, I did go to the principal’s office to report the fight and the boys who were responsible. The principal flipped through a book and then looked over at me before stating that there have been a lot of “reports” of trouble that included me. Then he proceeded to tell me that I would be in serious trouble if there were any more.

I knew, from that point on that the teachers and the principal would be of no help to me. I did not want to tell my parents because I knew that they would call the principal and then I would be in worse trouble. Now, looking back on this…it was some pretty intense thought for a 9 year old. After that first fight, the fights became a regular thing. I came to expect that I would spend my recess either hiding or fighting. At that point, I did not want to call on my older sister or younger brother for “back up, cuz I did not want them to have to endure what I was going through and did not want them to have to fight my battles for me. I knew that this had to be figured our by me…and me alone.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Fingers

Brothers and sisters all linked together
Gripping me hard, or light as a feather
Fingers so sexy, a delight for me to see
One stroke by them is never enough for me
One at a time, searching my skin
Finding the best place for caressing to begin

Brushing on my face or grabbing me below
Your gentile touch make my juices start to flow
From the fist touch until the last
It seems to me that an eternity has past
Touching, licking and sucking them – I like
How to work them - like riding a bike

I love your fingers, so sexual and sweet
Just remember…NEVER touch my feet

Sunday slides, Funnies, Caption contest

Little Robert attended a horse auction with his father. He watched as his father moved from horse to horse, running his hands up and down the horse's legs and rump, and chest.. After a few minutes, Robert asked, 'Dad, why are you doing that?' His father replied, 'Because when I'm buying horses, I have to make sure that they are healthy and in good shape before I buy. Robert, looking worried, said, 'Dad, I think the UPS guy wants to buy Mom ...'

hehe

1. I hope I'm the first one t the privy! I don't wanna haveta poop on the bottom!


2. Oh yeah it ain't even close!


3. I think I ate hee and swilled much beer here, well thats my best guess after waking up!


Very important information has just been made public that I think is something you should all be aware of: Gonorrhea Lectim. The Center for Disease Control has issued a warning about a new virulent strain of this old disease.
The disease is called Gonorrhea Lectim. It's pronounced "Gonna re-elect 'im."

The disease is contracted through dangerous and high-risk behavior involving putting your cranium up your rectum. Many victims contracted it in 2008 ..... but now most people, after having been infected for the past 1-2 years, are starting to realize how destructive this sickness is.

It's sad because it is so easily cured with a new procedure just coming on the market called Vo-tem-out! You take the first dose/step in 2010 and the second dosage in 2012, and simply don't engage in such behavior again, otherwise it could become permanent and eventually wipe out all life as we know it.
Several states are already on top of this like Virginia and New Jersey , and now Massachusetts , with many more seeing the writing on the wall. Please pass this important message on to all those bright folk you really care about.

Amen to that!

4. My kids understand this truth!


5. I think I could pass these out by the tub full.
6. Do y'all rad a lot of blogs? These chicks are out there! Be careful!

7. BWahahahahahahhahaah

No Toilet Paper

A little boy asked his teacher if he could go to the bath- room.
She said yes.
When he went to wipe his fanny there was no toilet paper so, he used
his hand.
When he got back to class, his teacher asked, "What do you have in
your hand?"
The boy said, "A little leprechaun and if I open my hand he'll get
scared away."
He was then sent to the principal's office and the principal asked
him, "What do you have in your hand?"
The little boy said, "A little leprechaun and if I open my hands
he'll get scared away."
The principal got mad and yelled, "Open your hands NOW!"
He did and the little boy said, "Oh great , now look what you did,
you scared the shit out of him!"

acccccccccck that's just wrong!



Caption contest!!! Give it a shot!


Y'all have a big ole Sunday, maybe it won't rain out the race!

Go see what the Real World has going on!


<<< NSFW pics here.

Happy Is As Happy Does

Happiness – it is one of mankind’s emotions that can’t be explained in any set way. Everyone reads and expressed happiness in a different way.

I know that for me, I see true happiness only in a person’s eyes. They can speak cheerfully…and still not truly be happy. They can walk with a ‘pep in their step’…but may just be suffering from ADHD. They can smile, give a high five or even compliment someone…but still not be happy on the inside.

I guess there might be something to that old adage “the eyes are the windows to the soul.” When I look into someone’s eyes…I can instantly tell if they are happy, sad, scared, angry or confused.

One of the things I love most in life is looking someone in the eye and seeing pure joy and happiness flickering around like a star-filled night…right there in their eyes.

The downside to all of this is the fact that when I look into people’s eyes…and do not see the happiness sparkling around…it makes me sad…or confused as to my possible involvement in their unhappiness. It also makes me feel as though I should try to help them…do something to make them happy.

It is one of those things that I consider to be like the yawning contagion … being around unhappy people …and seemingly not being able to help fix their situation…tends to suck the sparkle from my eyes. I end up not looking at people’s eyes, walking like a freakin sloth and battling with how I make myself once again happy.

Since I don’t know where this is going…if anywhere…I’ll just say that for anyone who is or plans on being around me…..BE HAPPY and let your eyes sparkle!!!!!!

When a mistress goes from "victim" to "target"

"I want to say to the rest of the country, 'Stop taking it out on the mistresses and start taking it out on the men who are cheating on their wives.' Why are these men getting off scot free while the mistresses are considered whores, and we're stepped on and we're booed and we're called nasty names? It's the man's responsibility, they're the ones in the marriage, they need to keep their vows. It's very easy to say, 'You know what I'm a married man.' They can easily walk away." - Michelle "Bombshell" McGee

This quote really bothers me.

For those unaware, McGee is the original mistress of Jesse James who crawled out of the woodwork to tell the world that she was sleeping with Sandra Bullock's husband. She then went on to say that she did it all because of the potential money that she'd earn from telling the story. Now she's wondering why she's the one being attacked.

I can tell you why...she's a whore.

And no, she's not a whore because she slept with a married man. This is absolutely James' fault because he was the married man and couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Much like Tiger Woods, he deserves every bit of the ridicule that has been thrown his way. The guy didn't just make a mistake and cheat on his wife once...he cheated multiple times with multiple partners, showing a complete and utter lack of respect for his spouse. He's slimy and has earned his new reputation for being as such.

No...McGee is a whore because she's whoring herself out for a few bucks. She didn't tell her story to simply break the news to help out Bullock in any way. She waited until Bullock won her Academy Award and rode that wave of high-profile fan-love until, like a viper, she struck at the most opportune time. She went out of her way to hurt Bullock in the worst way imaginable for her own personal gain.

And she's surprised at why the media and the public is attacking her.

Here's the thing...people can see through bullshit. And if you're going to break the news to the world that you're sleeping with a married man, and that married man is married to one of the most beloved celebrities in the country, and you're selling this story for money...then you better be prepared for the storm of attention that comes your way.

The primary victim here? The person who was actually cheated on. Sandra Bullock...Elin Woods...these are the women who were cheated on multiple times by their asshole spouses. They are the people who don't deserve this attention on them...and for the most part, the tabloid websites have been quite kind to them.

The secondary victims? Yes...the mistresses. Let's be honest, 90% of the mistresses of both Woods and James knew EXACTLY what they were getting themselves into...and they can cry and whine to the media all they want about how they were treated, but the fact of the matter is that they knowingly slept with married celebrities. So I have zero sympathy for them. Sell your stories to the tabloids and go away.

But yes, there are some mistresses who don't like being called that. They were "girlfriends" of James and Woods...they were told, and believed, that there were marriage issues and were seriously hurt when the truth was finally revealed. So I absolutely feel for these women as they were lied to by two unbelievable douchebag cheaters.

So when does one turn from being a "victim" to being a "target"? Do you feel sorry for Bombshell McGee? What about any of Tiger's girls on the side? Do they deserve sympathy? If so, which ones? All of them?

Sunday Slides, Funny, Caption Contest

POLK COUNTY FLORIDA SHERIFF GRADY JUDD

An illegal alien in Polk County Florida who got pulled over in a routine
traffic stop ended up 'executing' the deputy who stopped him.
The deputy was shot eight times, including once behind his right ear at close range. Another deputy was wounded and a police dog killed.
A state wide manhunt ensued.

The murderer was found hiding in a wooded area and as soon as he took a shot at the SWAT team, officers opened fire on him.
They hit the guy 68 times.

Naturally, the liberal media went nuts and asked why they had to shoot the poor undocumented immigrant 68 times.

Sheriff Grady Judd told the Orlando Sentinel: "Because that's all the ammunition we had."
Now, is that just about the all-time greatest answer or what!

1. My #1 fave dining establishment and activity!

2. I need this mud flap!

3. bwhahahahahahaahahha

4. So true!



A ventriloquist was making fun of rednecks with his dummy at a bar. Then an angry redneck stood up, rolled up his sleeves ,and yelled, "I resent that!"
The ventriloquist started apologizing to the redneck.

The redneck looked at him and said, " You stay outta this, I''m talkin to the guy on yer lap!!!!

5. PSA, Milk DOES do a body good, who knew?


6. fail indeed!



Two Middle Eastern mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat's milk.

The older of the mothers pulls a bag out of her purse and starts flipping through photos. And they start reminiscing.

'This is my oldest son Mohammed. He would be 24 years old now.'

'Yes, I remember him as a baby' says the other mother cheerfully.

'He's a martyr now though' mum confides. 'Oh, so sad dear' says the other.

And this is my second son Kalid. He would be 21'

'Oh, I remember him,' says the other happily, 'he had such curly hair
when he was born'. 'He's a martyr too' says mum quietly.

'Oh, gracious me ...' Says the other.

'And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Achmed.

He would be 18, she whispers. 'Yes' says the friend enthusiastically,
'I remember when he first started school' 'He's a martyr also,' says
mum, with tears in her eyes.

After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks
wistfully at the photographs and says...

'They blow up so fast, don't they?'

7. WTF is right!




Caption Contest!! Give it a shot in the comments.

There ya go. Try the caption contest, steal the pics if you want and have a big ole Sunday!

I got Funked!!

As I woke up this morning and …well, after driving the kids to school…had some coffee, I realized that my ‘morning funk’ would not go away.

I hate that little funk that just won’t fade. It is so hard to shake. It’s like a back ache…a constant bother that gets worse when you try to fix it. I have been mulling around this morning trying to get to the bottom of my funk…and all that is doing is making me think of all of the little things that are bugging me, the fact that I still can’t find a job, that I am unwillingly still married to my ex, that we have to put down one of our dogs, that relationships are not always a bed of roses, that I am getting old…you get my point.
I am now thinking that if I had never tried to ‘get to the bottom’ of my funk…it would have been long gone by now.

Anyone have ‘funk remedies’?

Kissing and Cooking - Which Really Lasts?

Remember the old adage: Kissing don’t last, cookery do! The intent of the message was that men (back in the day) did well to marry a sturdy woman who knew her way around the kitchen. If he married a woman for looks (and kisses), the love would fade over time and wouldn’t sustain him. Good cooking, on the other hand, lasted a lifetime.

To which I say hogwash. And not just because of the sexist connotations that women should cook for their men.

As a man who was married for ten years and divorced just as long, I can tell you, the kissing and cooking adage is crap.

Cooking doesn’t necessarily last in a marriage. I cooked plenty in the early years of my marriage. And during that last year before my wife and divorced, she wasn't cooking up a storm. She and I were in avoidance mode. I’d go to work early and she’d stay at work late. And guess who cooked dinner? Moi. (I also cooked some amount in the early days of our marriage.)

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. To which I say – who cares? Now that I’m divorced, I cook for myself almost every night. Whether I’m making my mom’s chicken and dumplings recipe, grilling a salmon, cooking swiss chard, or cooking beets. I’ve learned my way around the kitchen, by necessity.

Divorce will do that, especially when you’re a single dad raising kids. You can’t eat out every night.

As for the kissing not lasting? Sadly, that part of the adage was true for me. The kissing (and sex) fell to the wayside at the end of my marriage, and have proven hard to replace. I’ve had girlfriends post-divorce, and I’ve enjoyed my share of hook-ups and one-night stands. But daily hugs and kisses have proven a thing of the past. And hugs and kisses and spooning are some of the things I miss the most.

(Props to any married couple that has kept the love and sex and kisses and hugs alive throughout the years. And if you're married and not doing that? You should!!!!)

So next time I find a woman to be my partner and join me in my home, I’m going to toss that old adage out the window. I want kissing that will last. As for the cooking – I’ll just keep on doing it myself.


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Insects and Mass Suicide

Lately, I have witnessed a very odd phenomenon around the house. Over the past few days, as I walk around the house, lethargic flies have been catching my eye. I saw one on the stairs, a few in the kitchen…each day I saw several in different parts of the house. At one point I went and got the fly swatter and snuck up on a group of 6 flies. I splatted one, expecting the others to take off, but they didn’t…they just sat there awaiting their impending demise.

Today, I was sweeping the house and before I was half way done, I had swept up almost a dozen flies. Some of them were dead, some seemed dazed…yet others just sat there and let me sweep them into the dust pan.

I have never seen anything like this before and have absolutely no idea what the heck is going on.

Is there something deadly to flies in the air? Did the flies get into a bottle of booze? Are they laying eggs around the house and then dying? Do they fear my swatting accuracy so much that they just give up when they see me coming?

Have any of you ever seen such a thing? Any ideas of what supernatural occurrence is going on in my house?

Oh…and the other day while we were all at the beach, I witnessed another thing that I had never seen before…Hundreds of lady bugs in the sand right at the water’s edge. Christie and Megan spent about an hour collecting them and “saving their lives” while I pondered what the hell was going on. Why were they at the beach? In the sand, getting washed in and out by the surf?

Maybe the lady bugs and flies sense an earthquake or some other impending doom that we can’t. Maybe there is some insect mass suicide ritual going on…I have no clue.

Someone please answer these questions for me so that I can get on with my life and stop wasting my days trying to figure this all out.

Sunday Slides, Funnies, Caption contest

WOMEN'S ASS SIZE STUDY

There is a new study about women and how they feel about their asses; the results were pretty interesting:

30% of women think their ass is too fat...
10% of women think their ass is too skinny...

The remaining 60% say they don't care, they love him, he's a good man and they wouldn't trade him for the world.

How true is that?

1. That is something the Feds would say right there.


2. Nothing truer has ever been said.



Wine doesn't make you fat.......
it makes you LEAN.......
Against tables, chairs, floors,
walls and ugly people!!!

3. Do it El Tigre!


4. hehehe
5. I think it is!


Women Are Evil By Nature

A woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural pub...
She gestured alluringly to the bartender who approached her immediately.
She seductively signaled that he should bring his face closer to hers.
As he did, she gently caressed his full beard.
"Are you the manager?" she asked, softly stroking his face with both hands.
"Actually, no," he replied.
"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him," she said, running her
Hands beyond his beard and into his hair.
"I'm afraid I can't," breathed the bartender. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes... I need for you to give him a message," she continued, running her
Forefinger across the bartender's lip and slyly popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth

And allowing him to suck them gently.
"What should I tell him?" the bartender managed to say.
"Tell him," she whispered,
"There's no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the ladies room."

6. This would be true but the I can't tell which'n is the female cause neither of their mouths are open.


7. For true!


FIND OUT WHO TRULY IS YOUR ROLE MODEL. DON'T SCROLL DOWN YET, DO THE

SIMPLE MATH BELOW, THEN SCROLL DOWN TO FIND YOUR HERO.







It's CRAZY how accurate this is! No peeking !







1) Pick your favorite number between 1-9



2) Multiply by 3

then



3) Add 3



4) Then again Multiply by 3 (I'll wait while you get the calculator....)





5) You'll get a 2 or 3 digit

number....



6) Add the digits together



Now Scroll down











With that number, see who your ROLE MODEL is from the list below:















AMAZING















1. Einstein



2. Oprah Winfrey



3. Snoopy



4. Bill Clinton



5. Bill Gates



6. Gandhi



7. Ronald Reagan



8. Babe Ruth



9. ME! =]

10. John F. Kennedy

There ya go, but I already knew everyone wanted to be me!!!

Caption contest! Surely y'all have something for this!



Go see what the Real World has going on!


Pics and funnies NSFW in Sageville today too!

TentCamper's Beatdown

I know that it is going to go against my ‘manly’ reputation as a Hot Dad, but I have to level with you all.

I have been holding back for quite some time. Stuffing my feelings and playing the tough guy role…when the reality is that I am crushed. I feel like a broken man.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here…I love Mariah and her kids and the rest of her family. I want to be with them forever. The thing that is missing is MY boys. This past Monday morning is the first time I’d seen them since January 3rd. I have only spent 2 weekends with them since the end of November.

I am sickened. I feel like crying, throwing up or curling up into a little ball. I miss them so very much that it hurts to think about. I try to put it out of my mind and go on with things until the courts get things straightened out, but I am only fooling myself. Every day I want to just sit and cry. I know that I can’t keep up this charade for long.

On Monday I only saw them briefly as we were all at the court house for a custody evaluation and the joy that overtook my whole body was overwhelming. I almost burst into tears…but I did not want them to think something was wrong.

Now I know that with Mariah and her/our kids, my job search and coaching high school lacrosse, my days get busy and things have a tendency to be hectic. It seems to be easy to busy myself with things enough not to dwell too much or hide in a closet to cry and feel sorry for myself. But I can’t seem to be able to shake the feeling of teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

I know that I am needed in this house and that Mariah and the kids need me. I can’t let things fall apart. I hold it together and push on. The sad thing is that every minute of down time or times that I am not running around…all I do is think about how much I love and want to be with my boys.

Now, I know that I have been on here bad-mouthing my ex and talking about how she is to blame for me not seeing the boys…I am done with that. I know that I have done wrong and I understand why she hates me. I get why she is not a fan of Mariah…but I want things to be better. I want to be a big part of my boys’ lives and want to put all of this hostility, emotional strain and mental anguish behind me.

I know that I am rambling (in circles) but I truly feel lost within myself. I don’t feel that I have the strength to fight all of this much longer. Fighting with my ex, the nauseating pain I feel not seeing my boys, being 100% there for Mariah and the kids, lacrosse, etc. I sometimes feel like I am losing the battle and that I’d be better off choosing one or the other.

I know that that is not a valid thought, but it is there anyway.

I know that I am a good man. I know that I am a good and capable father. I know that I am doing my best. I know that I am able to bring happiness to many people in my life….all of this and I still feel ….beaten.

The Double Down Is Real!

Last summer I posted on my blog that KFC was test marketing a gastronomical abomination called the Double Down. 

I guess enough people seemed to like it because it's become a reality.  Because what we need in this world is way to make some of the world's unhealthiest fast food that much more unhealthy.

So...will you try it?

Live Free Or Die

For those of you who no nothing about the great state of New Hampshire...where I grew up... Check this out!!



Who many of you have been to NH?
...And if you have not been there...you want to go now...right?!

Happy Easter!

Here's hoping all y'all have a big Easter!

























A Happy Easter to you and yours from the Hotdads.

Sunday Slides, Funnies,Caption Contest

BEE STING
A young woman had been taking golf lessons.
She had just started playing her first round of golf
When she suffered a bee sting.
Her pain was so intense that she decided to return
To the clubhouse for help and to complain.

Her golf pro saw her come into the clubhouse and
Asked, 'Why are you back in so early? What's wrong?'

'I was stung by a bee', she said.

'Where', he asked.

'Between the first and second hole', she replied.

He nodded knowingly and said,
'Then your stance is too wide.'

bwhahahahahaha



1. LOL, anyone wanna eat at Phuket?














2. Lol I think that IS her dad!













3. AMEN to that!











4. LOL LOL My computer says that too!















5. Some bosses need to read that!





It's not difficult to make a woman happy.





A man only needs to be:










1. a friend
2. a companion
3.. a lover
4. a brother
5. a father
6. a master
7. a chef
8. an electrician
9. a carpenter
10. a plumber
11. a mechanic
12. a decorator
13. a stylist
14. a sexologist
15. a gynecologist
16. a psychologist
17.. a pest exterminator
18. a psychiatrist
19. a healer
20. a good listener
21. an organizer
22. a good father
23. very clean
24. sympathetic
25. athletic
26. warm
27. attentive
28. gallant
29. intelligent
30. funny
31. creative
32. tender
33. strong
34. understanding
35. tolerant
36. prudent
37. ambitious
38.. capable
39. courageous
40. determined
41. true
42. dependable
43. passionate
44. compassionate

WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:

45. give her compliments regularly
46. love shopping
47. be honest
48. be very rich
49. not stress her out
50. not look at other girls

AND AT THE SAME TIME, YOU MUST ALSO:

51. give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself
52. give her lots of time, especially time for herself
53. give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:

54. Never to forget:
* birthdays
* anniversaries
* arrangements she makes













HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY

1. Show up naked






2. Bring alcohol








6. LOL that is funny right there!



















7. All y'all saw it too!
















8. Home remedies, you saw it here first.









Sage Bubba is driving down a back road in Alabama .

A sign in front of a restaurant reads:

HAPPY HOUR SPECIAL

Lobster Tail and Beer

"Lord a' mighty," he says to himself, "my three favorite things!"






Caption Contest! Come on folks, someone can come up with something good for my poor assed kin folks! Give it your best shot.





Well I figured I'd post this today, y'all have a big ole Easter and be careful on the roads!
Go see what the Real World has going on!


Is out!