Memorial Day

It is the VETERAN, not the preacher,
who has given us freedom of religion.

It is the VETERAN, not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the VETERAN, not the poet,
who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the VETERAN, not the community organizer, who has given us freedom to assemble.

It is the VETERAN, not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.

It is the VETERAN, not the politician,
Who has given us the right to vote.

It is the VETERAN who
salutes the Flag,

It is the VETERAN
who serves under the Flag,


ETERNAL REST GRANT THEM O LORD, AND LET PERPETUAL LIGHT SHINE UPON THEM.


On behalf of Hotdads I'd like to say thank you to everyone who served or has/had family members that serve(d).

The reason for Memorial day is to remember all the folks who have and are fighting and dying to preserve freedom and liberty here at home and around the globe. One thing stands between relative peace and world wide chaos, that is the United States military. Make no mistake without them we would be in a perpetual state of Clusterfuckites (that is a southern term mail me if you need a definition).

Also remember the U.S. military is a 100% volunteer force, they serve because they WANT to. Think about that. Someone is willing to volunteer to strap on a helmet pick up a gun and go fight, risking death, risking not ever having their own family or leaving their kids and spouse alone for a minimal pay check (surely minimal in the risk/reward sense) so YOU can be free, so you and yours can prosper, so you can walk the streets in relative safety. That is surely something to be thankful for.

The U.S. military is an honorable and noble fighting force, in the last 100 years fighting all over the world and never taking land nor treasure from the vanquished, simply spreading freedom, or protecting it. So the better portion of people who might possibly read this should be damn thankful for the U.S. military that fought to protect them.

Here is a quote from Colin Powell.... read it, after that I shall wax poetic.

Colin Powell in response to a question about the United States and Empire building

There is nothing in American experience or in American political life or in our culture that suggests we want to use hard power. But what we have found over the decades is that unless you do have hard power -- and here I think you're referring to military power -- then sometimes you are faced with situations that you can't deal with.

I mean, it was not soft power that freed Europe. It was hard power. And what followed immediately after hard power? Did the United States ask for dominion over a single nation in Europe? No. Soft power came in the Marshall Plan. Soft power came with American GIs who put their weapons down once the war was over and helped all those nations rebuild. We did the same thing in Japan.

So our record of living our values and letting our values be an inspiration to others I think is clear. And I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of or apologize for with respect to what America has done for the world. [Applause.]

We have gone forth from our shores repeatedly over the last hundred years and we've done this as recently as the last year in Afghanistan and put wonderful young men and women at risk, many of whom have lost their lives, and we have asked for nothing except enough ground to bury them in, and otherwise we have returned home to seek our own, you know, to seek our own lives in peace, to live our own lives in peace. But there comes a time when soft power or talking with evil will not work where, unfortunately, hard power is the only thing that works.

Now for poetic waxing.

When you hear these people from other countries putting down the U.S. and hear them talk smack about Bush or Reagan or whoever is President then you have a choice, you can piss on history and the folks who did take up arms and fight and die to protect, liberate or otherwise help THOSE SAME PEOPLE that are now bitching by joining them with their U.S. bashing, or you can go Johnny Cash on them.



With a big Fuck you to the scum sucking rat bastards. Your choice. But be damn sure when you do choose sides know a whole hell of a lot of braver people than you or I fought and died so you even had a choice to make. It is easy to tell who's side you are on by how you group yourself. Like Momma said, you will be judged by the company you keep.

Say a prayer for a warrior today. Odds are somewhere on the globe a current or past warrior will die leaving family and friends to mourn them.

How'd my poetic waxing go?

Thank a warrior, thank their family, say a prayer, give a donation.

I also hope you take the time to teach your kids what Memorial day is all about.



Didja hit the giveaway? Memorial Day is the last day! Easy to enter, enter as often as you'd like!

Go see what the Real World has going on!


Posted here today too.

Sunday Slides, Funnies, Caption Contest

ACTUAL AUSTRALIAN COURT DOCKET 12659 ---
A lady about 8 months pregnant got on a bus.
She noticed the man opposite her was smiling at her.
She immediately moved to another seat.
This time the smile turned into a grin, so she moved again.
The man seemed more amused.
When on the fourth move, the man burst out laughing,
she complained to the driver and he had the man arrested.




The case came up in court.




The judge asked the man (about 20 years old)
what he had to say for himself.




The man replied,
'Well your Honor, it was like this:
when the lady got on the bus,
I couldn't help but notice her condition.
She sat down under a sign that said,
'The Double Mint Twins are coming' and I grinned.
Then she moved and sat under a sign that said,
'Logan's Liniment will reduce the swelling,' and I had to smile.
Then she placed herself under a deodorant sign that said,
'William's Big Stick Did the Trick,' and I could hardly contain myself.
But, Your Honor, when she moved the fourth time
and sat under a sign that said,
'Goodyear Rubber could have prevented this Accident!'
... I just lost it.'




'CASE DISMISSED!!'

I need this button sometimes!


2. Just silly.


3. LOL


"Sex With an Illegal Immigrant"

An illegal immigrant picks up a hooker. "Hey, how much you charge for da hour?" he asks.

"$100," she replies.

In broken English, he says, "Do you do immigrant style?"

"No," she says.

"I pay you $200 to do immigrant style."

"No," she says, not knowing what immigrant style is.

"I pay you $300."
"No," she says.

"I pay you $400."
"No," she says.

So finally he says, "OK, I pay $1,000 to do immigrant style."

She thinks, "Well, I've been in the game for over 10 years now. I've had every kind of request from weirdoes from every part of the world. How bad could immigrant style be?"

So she agrees and has sex with him. Finally, they finish and exhausted, the hooker turns to him and says, "Hey, I was expecting something perverted and disgusting. But that was not so bad. So, what exactly is immigrant style?"

The illegal immigrant replies, "You send bill to Government."

AND THAT MY FRIENDLY TAXPAYERS, IS EXACTLY HOW THE ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS ARE SCREWING US.

4. Tunnel of love?


5. I had no idea there wasa chick out there with a tongue identical to mine!


6. Smile son I can get us both on my Facebook profile pic!


7. Kinda funny

Caption contest!!! Come you can come up with something. I'll go with "Kiss me I'm Irish!"

Hope every ones long weekend is good!

Didja hit the giveaway? Memorial Day is the last day! Easy to enter, enter as often as you'd like!

Go see what the Real World has going on!

Dance Dance Dance! Sage On Dancing

Well I thought I'd post a little diddy for men and woman. Being a plethora of goodness and truth I just know y'all hang on my every word so bust out your trapper keeper as well as a number 2 pencil and get to jotting this down.

If you are a man and your bride gets the swell belly and inside that swole up tummy of goodness isa little person with a vagina I have some advice for you. DON'T ALLOW THEM TO TAKE DANCE If they take dance be prepared to suffer fake enjoyment at watching the recital. Let me tell you about recitals.......... (Sorry Shell)

Ok here is the rundown.

A buck fiddy a months for four days of dancing for one hour each. Yes that is bumping fiddy per lesson if you include travel.

fiddy dollars per outfit, we had three in THIS recital. This does not include the outfits they wear to practice or whatever they call it. This does not include the hair and make up and glittery shit stuff they put on for the recital.

Then you must add the cost of the tickets for the torture chamber experience extravaganza! $15.00 per.

You also have to shower and shave and wear your Sunday go to meeting clothes.

When you get there you need to talk to the dance dad that is actually excited to be there and quell the over riding desire to take out your pocket knife and cut that stupid assed grin off his face walk away from his sissfied assed self.

You must sit square dab in the middle of the joint too so you can't get out except during intermission.

When you go outside during intermission to get a pinch of snuff (they frown on spitting on the floor at the dance hall place and they don't provide spittoons) you need to have a Michael Jackson mask because you will get second hand smoke cancer out there cause those smoker people try to get in 2 apiece before they come back in for more excruciating torture the second half of pure goodness and happy times.

Oh shit! man I forgot the flowers for your girl child because I have no idea why but STFU and get the flowers you want to show her she did good and you love her such.

Then $30.00 for pizza because they schedule the damn thing for 7 and you don't wanna eat prior because you kid hasn't eaten since 5 when they had to be there so you wait, famished.

just a note if your son takes dance after he is like 5 we can no longer associate with one another.

Ladies. If you EVER took dance, even one year, and you have a dad and he is living, HUG him! Give him gifts! Send him money! Tell him he is the best ever! Do whatever it is he likes for you to do for him! He is a frickin saint! He gets the best dad ever cookie for a whole damn year if he sits through or ever sat though a recital.

Thats all I got. I lived, I frickin WIN!

Ok the greatest give away in Blogville is going to end on Memorial Day. Hit it, you can enter as often as you like! $100.00!! Sheeesh. Anyone can play!

Go see what the Real World has going on!


<--- some stellar goodness on right here today also, it is what I do, how I roll.

Just Detach My Nuts Already!

I was all set on detaching my nuts immediately following the birth of our second child. I was set on it. It was a certainty. I had no doubt in my mind. My boys were all set to be free. Retiring early. And yet, now three months after our second and final kid was born, I have yet to do it. My wife is back at work now, and my boys are still in working ready to inseminate condition. Why, why have I dropped the ball, no, I mean why have I not yet dropped the balls?

I fully planned on doing it immediately after our second kid slithered out. I told everyone I knew, even perfect strangers that I was going to do it. I bragged about it to anyone that would listen. But as the weeks flew by, and the three months of maternity leave my wife had was shortening, I never called a urologist. Every time my wife would ask me if I had set an appointment, I just mumbled something to the effect of, yeah I’ll get to it, or what’s the rush.



It’s not till now, now that she has gone back to work and there’s no good time to take a few days to recover from a sharp scalpel to the nuts, that I realize I don’t want to do it just yet. Somewhere in the nether region of my unconscious, in the area they call the Shadow, I never really planned on doing it. But I didn’t know it until recently.

I have no fears about it, I am not scared to go through the procedure itself. Hell, I have had a dozen extremely painful and invasive medical procedures due to accidents, injuries, and naturally inherent abnormalities in my life. I have also visited a urologist before. He did some pretty nasty, and yet oddly enough, not so unpleasant feeling procedures in my anal and testicular region due to a still unexplained medical condition which no twenty-one year old should ever have experienced. It was the type of medical condition reserved for the geriatric generations. Don’t ask. What I am saying is that having my balls in the palm of a grown mans hand in the name of medical science is not so foreign to me. And who said letting some perfect stranger handle your balls is wrong anyway? (But hey, I didn’t say it was right either.)



What I just recently realized is this. I am afraid of the unknown. My anxiety has gotten the best of me and I have envisioned terrible things happening to my kids. Yes, I do watch way to many horror movies. But really, the fear of the unknown, the fear of what could possibly maybe happen has gotten to me. What if one of my kids dies? What if they run out into the street and get smashed by a skateboarder, or fall off a sixty foot cliff, or sit on the train tracks two blocks behind my house? What if what if what if. All the women in my family think I’m crazy, and every time I explain my answer to them, they shake their head and stop me cold. They don’t even want to hear my fears. To them it’s blasphemy to even speak of such things. But my brothers just nod their heads with understanding. Why can’t I talk about how I am afraid that a horrific accident may befall one of my kids? I know dam well that everyone, that every sane person with kids has thought about it, at least for a fleeting moment. And I never shy away from talking about what’s on my mind. But they don’t want to hear it. Their response is always that I am crazy, and I should just go ahead and chop my balls off already, well in so many words anyway.



So, I have just decided that I will wait until my kids are a little older, to get my vasectomy. I have a newborn, and you just never know what can happen. But I suppose I am waiting at least long enough to wrap my brain around it anyway. Why rush it right? Oh yeah, because we all know what happened the last time I was suppose to wear a condom. Welcome boy #1. And we all know what happened the last time my wife was on birth control and those hormones turned her into a raving mad lunatic of epic hormonal imbalance proportions. But am I being irrational? Is it okay to wait because I fear my newborn may come down with the bubonic plague and if that happens I want to be able to impregnate the wife again?

Sunday Slides, Funny, Caption Contest

IDIOT SIGHTING:
When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. "Hey," I announced to the technician, "It's open!" His reply, "I know. I already got that side.
This was at the Ford dealership in Canton, MS

1. I need that button for when folks are babblin.
2. LOL



3. Tiger is da man!



I Miss Bill Clinton

It doesn't matter what party you belong to - this is hilarious. From a show on Canadian TV, there was a black comedian who said he misses Bill Clinton.

"Yep, that's right - I miss Bill Clinton! He was the closest thing we ever got to having a black man as President.

Number 1 - He played the sax..

Number 2 - He smoked weed.

Number 3 - He had his way with ugly white women.

Even now? Look at him... his wife works, and he doesn't! And, he gets a check from the government every month.

Manufacturers announced today that they will be stocking America 's shelves this week with

"Clinton Soup," in honor of one of the nations' distinguished men. It consists primarily of a weenie in hot water

Chrysler Corporation is adding a new car to its line to honor Bill Clinton The Dodge Drafter will be built in Canada .

When asked what he thought about foreign affairs, Clinton replied, "I don't know, I never had one."

The Clinton revised judicial oath: "I solemnly swear to tell the truth as I know it, the whole truth as I believe it to be, and nothing but what I think you need to know."

Clinton will be recorded in history as the only President to do Hanky Panky between the Bushes."

4. Ha!


5. Then he ran for president and some of y'all voted for him!


6. Truth is funny sometimes.

7. The only way I'll ever have 6 pack abs!


Caption contest. Come on y'all can think of something!


IDIOT SIGHTING:
My daughter and I went through the McDonald's take-out window and I gave the clerk a $5 bill. Our total was $4.25, so I also handed her a quarter.. She said, "You gave me too much money." I said, "Yes I know, but this way you can just give me a dollar bill back." She sighed and went to get the manager who asked me to repeat my request. I did so, and he handed me back the quarter, and said "We're sorry but we cannot do that kind of thing." The clerk then proceeded to give me back $1 and 75 cents in change..
Do not confuse the clerks at McD's.



Hope y'all have a lazy Sunday and your driver wins!

Go see what the Real World has going on!

FAT!

I saw my doctor this week for my every-two-year physical. Overall, I’m healthy – good blood pressure, good pulse (I have one!), good blood cell counts. But one biological statistic just couldn’t be ignored.

I’m fat.

Two years ago, if someone asked how tall is Lance Armstrong, or how heavy is the Tour de France rider – I could proudly say “the same height and weight as me!” These days, Lance has dropped five pounds, and I’ve gained ten since my last physical, two years ago. (Doh!) And I was a guy who stayed pretty much the same weight for all of my adult life.

What happened?

My doctor and I discussed it, trying to figure things out.

• I’m not running marathons like I used to (I completed 7 of those 26.2 mile races in my 30s), but I’d quit running marathons eight years ago. That I no longer run marathons doesn’t explain a weight gain in the past two years.
  
• I’m still cycling a century ride each year. I’m not the quickest to finish, but it’s en epic accomplishment to go 100 miles.
  
• I’m eating as healthy as ever, with swiss chard and beet greens, brown rice, pasta, grilled salmon, chicken dishes, etc. etc. etc.
  
• I’m not downing too many martinis or mai tais or manhattans
  

The problem, it seems, is that I’m eating as if I’m still running marathons and cycling centuries non-stop.

“You need to lower your calorie intake, or lengthen your runs and bike rides, and up their intensity, to burn more calories per workout,” my doctor said.

I admit – I do like me my food. Cut back on asparagus pasta? Water down my best margarita recipe?

Not on your life.

Time to bump my five mile runs back up to ten, and draw out my thirty miles bike rides to fifty.

In short, time to get back to serious training. It doesn't feel right to be checking out women (I'm an ass man!) when I don't have flat abs to show off in return.

When’s that Tour de France thing, anyway!?

Sunday Slides, Funny, Caption Contest

.When girls don't put out!!
This was written by a guy...it's pretty damn smart.

Girls -- Please have a sense of humor!


I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.

FOR EXAMPLE:

One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed. Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says, 'I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me.'

I said, 'WHAT??!! What was that?!'

So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear...

'You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man.'

She responded to my puzzled look by saying, 'Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?'

Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep..

The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take, so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said, 'Lets get a pair for each outfit.'

We went on to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you... She was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis.

I think I threw her for a loop when I said, 'That's fine, honey.' She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation, she finally said, 'I think this is all Dear, let's go to the cashier.'

I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, 'No honey, I don't feel like it.'

Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled, 'WHAT?'

I then said, 'Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman.'

And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, 'Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?'

Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either....but at least that bitch knows I'm smarter than her.

Bwahhahahahahahaa

1. Go Tiger!


2. It is a beautiful ocean!


3. Or any time really!


4. Yesssssssssss Honey I fixed the frickin steps!


5. hehehehe


6. Well I'll never have one of those so I suspect I'll have to rely on the other stuff.



Caption Contest!!! Surely you can leave something good in the comment box!!



There ya go! I hope your driver is winning the race and all is well in your world!

How I became a single dad

It's been WAY too long since I posted anything here and I apologize for that...


Let me also say right up front that I am neither bitter nor resentful about how my life turned out and about my being a single dad. Just the opposite in fact. I think that I’m very lucky and that I was given a rare and great opportunity. I work hard every day to make the most of that opportunity.

The story of how I became a full-time single dad started in August of 1997 when my daughter, A.K.A. Drama Queen (D.Q.), was born. I call her mom O.C.B.

O.C.B. was not a good mother from the start. We were married for 10 years when both she and the relationship finally hit rock bottom. I tried to hold it together for another year, but it was over. She had little interest in being a mother and I will tell specific stories as time goes on; this is just an overview—a preface if you will.

O.C.B. was in the Navy when D.Q. was born and suffice it to say that could not wait to get off maternity leave and back on a ship. I found that a bit odd. The bottom line is that I raised D.Q. by myself for 8 of her first 12 months. O.C.B. got out of the Navy three weeks before D.Q. turned one and I thought that life was finally going to settle down and we were going to be a real family. That never happened.

I spent the next four years raising two girls. O.C.B. was never completely neglectful of her daughter, it just seemed like she generally had more important things to focus on. D.Q. was four the year we had our 10th anniversary. O.C.B. and I went to the mountains in Southern California to a house my parents owned. We were looking forward to two nights alone to relax.

I woke up the morning of our anniversary and went upstairs to cook breakfast. I was in the middle of whipping something up when I heard a blood curdling scream. I ran downstairs and found that O.C.B. had taken a knife and slashed up and down both arms—not across the wrists, but up and down, like a cry for help.

We packed up and I took her to the V.A. Hospital and checked her into the Inpatient Psych Ward. She was diagnosed as bi-polar and over the next six months she stopped and started her medicine and when she was off the meds she was not a nice person to be around. She started to be mean to D.Q. and the summer before D.Q. started kindergarten I finally had to tell O.C.B. it was over and that she had to move out.

She didn’t put up a fight when I requested custody. The judge gave her the standard “dad visitation”—one night a week and every other weekend. She rarely showed up to pick up D.Q. and I found out that on a couple of occasions she left D.Q. alone in an upstairs apartment for a half-hour at a time while she went out and bought Zima and Marlboros.

Armed with that new found knowledge we went back to court and the judge ordered monitored visitation three times a month for two hours a pop. Over the next six months D.Q. saw her mom only four or five times. After that it was almost five years before there was contact of any kind. No phone calls. No birthday cards. No Christmas presents. Absolute silence. Over that five-year period D.Q. never once asked to see her mom or even asked about her.

My story to D.Q. during the missed visits was always that mommy was sick and that her sickness caused her to make bad decisions. It wasn’t that her mom didn’t want to see her, the sickness made her not be able to see her. I decided from the moment we split up that I would never say anything bad to D.Q. about her mom, but the reality is that now at 12-years-old, she knows there is more to the story than I’m letting on.

The next year saw a handful of visits but not much. In December 2008 I was offered a job hosting a morning radio show at a new radio station in suburban Toronto. In January 2009, as we were packing the house up, D.Q. asked if she could call her mom to tell her we were moving. I said she could but I warned her that her mom changed phone numbers on a regular basis and that if this one was disconnected I had no way to get in touch with her.

She dialed the number and her mom answered and D.Q. eagerly told her that we were leaving warm, sunny Long Beach, CA for the winter reality of Toronto. Her mom said, “well, I guess I’m never going to hear from you again…” D.Q. just said, “yeah. I guess so,” and hung up on her mom. While I was proud of her for not giving in to her mom’s drama, I was also upset that she hung up on her mom and I made it a point to remind her that no matter what, that was her mom and she shouldn’t be rude to her.

The radio station never went on the air and in September 2009 we move back to the U.S., to Buffalo, NY. Fast forward to January 2010 when D.Q. got a friend request on Facebook from her mom! I think she’s a bit young for Facebook but I let her have it to keep in touch with friends from California and Canada. She has no photos, no birthday and no identifying info for people to search. When you put her name into a search, 140 people come up and 30 of them have no identifying information.

My guess is that her mom sent a friend request to all 30 of the people. When D.Q. showed me the friend request I have to admit that I was a bit flustered. Life is better with her mom out of the picture. I firmly believe that a parent (regardless of the sex) needs to be an active part of their child’s life and if they can’t do that, they are better to be out completely. This in and out stuff is pure crap and does way more harm to kids then it does good.

I asked D.Q. what she wanted to do and she said that if it was OK with me, she just wanted to ignore the request. I was so proud of her. I guess that she is now realizing that she is better off without her mom around.

If this sounds like a sad, depressing story you need to read it again. I’m happy with the life the two of us have together. It’s true that the rest of our family is across the country, but thanks to Skype, Apple and Verizon Wireless D.Q. keeps in regular contact with her grandma, uncle, aunt, nephew and her friends. She is making great friends here and The Phone Sex Operator is a great female role model in her life. The two of them even have plans to go out one of these days and buy the first bra. Apparently I have to stay home because it’s a girl thing…

I look forward to sharing a full time single dad’s perspective with you and anytime you need a good laugh I invite you to visit www.sexandthesingledad.com. I also welcome your messages (good or bad) here.

J.R.

Cooking With Kids – Who’s Schooling Whom?

I convinced my teen son to help me cook dinner the other night. (A little TV bribery was all it took.) Aside from the time they kabitzed on our worlds best hamburger recipe, cooking with kids in my house usually means me telling them what to do. I don't mind. There's a reason why I cook.

But this time I wanted to raise the stakes, and not only tell my son what to do, but why. I wanted my son to start thinking like a chef, to be comfortable altering recipes, to see what it’s like to put a meal together from scratch.

Little did I know, he and his sister would be schooling me.

“What can I do?” he asked.
We were making asparagus pasta, risotto style.
“Chop an onion,” I said.
“Onions make me cry,” he said. “You do that. What’s the next step?”

Okay then.

I figured he’s chopped plenty of onions in his day. He’s doesn't quite have the onion chopping prowess of Julia Child in Julie and Julia, but he’s certainly capable. I didn’t mind him passing on the onion task.

“Melt 3 tablespoons of butter in the frying pan,” I said.

He cut off a chunk from a stick of butter and dropped it in the pan. I finished chopping the onion, then brought the chopped onion over to dump in the pan. The butter had barely started melting.

“Can you break up that big chunk of butter so it will melt faster?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I’m watching it dance around the pan.”

Anyone who remembers the movie American Beauty, and the video of the plastic bag blowing around, can certainly appreciate that my son was finding beauty and life in an inanimate object. But I had onions to sautee.

I dumped the onions in, even though his butter wasn’t melted. You can imagine how that went over.

I instructed my son on cooking the pasta, mixing in warm chicken broth, adding the asparagus, doing things at five minute intervals. He waved me off and took over. Fine. I went about making bruschetta: fresh tomatoes, garlic, salt, pepper, basil.

My daughter floated into the kitchen. “Don’t put in too much garlic,” she said.
“I won’t,” I said.
“But you always do.”
“I’m making this late. The flavors won’t have time to meld. It will be fine.”
She shook her head. “One clove, no more. And be sure to use fresh basil.” She’s half Italian, so she gets the real deal from her mom’s house.

“I don’t have fresh basil,” I said.
She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Here, I’ll make it.”

Some cooking lesson I was giving.

With both of my kids preparing dishes, I figured I might as well shake myself a cocktail. My margarita recipe is to die for.

“Can I make your margarita?” my son asked.
“No, you’re too young,” I said.
“I already know how.”

Great. But I wouldn’t be swayed.

I started by rinsing the rim of the glass under running water, so I could dunk the rim in a container of margarita salt, and the salt would stick.

“That’s not how you do it,” my son said. “You’ll end up with salt inside the glass. You need to run a wet towel around the rim, instead.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“I watched them make margaritas at the Mexican restauarant.”

We’d sat at the bar of the Mexican restaurant plenty of times, eating while watching soccer on TV, usually when the restaurant was fairly empty. (I once hit on a woman in front of my son at that Mexican restaurant bar. It wasn't easy.)

I followed my son’s instruction, and wouldn’t you know, the rim salted perfectly.

Okay, so maybe I had nothing to teach my kids in the kitchen this particular night. Next time I’ll make something more complicated, like chicken and dumplings, and really show them the ropes.

Then again, the asparagus pasta and bruschetta came out pretty good. Maybe I should let my kids cook every night. We might start eating better.

Funnies and a Pimping.

First a couple funnies!

AT THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE
A gorgeous young redhead goes into the doctor's office and
said that her body hurt wherever she touched it.
'Impossible!' says the doctor. 'Show me.'
The redhead took her finger, pushed on her left shoulder and screamed,
then she pushed her elbow and screamed even more.
She pushed her knee and screamed;
likewise she pushed her ankle and screamed.
Everywhere she touched made her scream.
The doctor said, 'You're not really a redhead, are you?
'Well, no' she said, 'I'm actually a blonde.'
'I thought so,' the doctor said, 'Your finger is broken.'

That is just silly right there.

IN A VACUUM
A blonde was playing Trivial Pursuit one night. It was her turn.
She rolled the dice and she landed on Science & Nature.
Her question was, 'If you are in a vacuum and someone calls your name, can you hear it?' She thought for a time and then asked, 'Is it on or off?'

hehehe

The Pope and Nancy Pelosi are on the same stage in front of a huge crowd.

The Pope leans towards Mrs. Pelosi and said, "Do you know that with one little wave of my hand I can make every person in this crowd go wild with joy? This joy will not be a momentary display, like that of your followers, but go deep into their hearts and they'll forever speak of this day and rejoice!"

Pelosi replied, "I seriously doubt that. With one little wave of your hand? Show me!"

So the Pope backhanded the bitch.

bwhahahahahahahaha
bwhahahahahaa

on with the pimp. Y'all should check it out, there might be a topic that appeals to you. It is also a good blog to hear what has worked for others and might actually help you improve your current relationship, and who couldn't stand that?

Shelle says......

Like any relationship things change.

So is the blog.

Well kind of.

When I began this blog my vision was for it to be an outlet for people to write about their relationships. I still want that, but people are shy about it. I've always stressed that it is okay to be anonymous, writing under a pseudonym, but it has morphed into being more about the core contributors and their relationships rather than a community of people sharing stories and giving advice, or just empathizing with each other.

My Core writers are still the base of what holds this blog together and will remain that way. Their honesty and beauty in which they write make the foundation of this blog. But we are still missing our community.

We want to involve you in our clique, where everyday is a gathering of minds and opinions, everyone welcome.

So every so often I am going to write a TOPICS post. This post will have a list of topics that I would love to have addressed with two different opinions.

This is where YOU the reader come into play. I want these topics covered by GUEST CONTRIBUTORS, that means YOU!!!

Hit it HERE to see the topics, we need MEN and Women!

Happy Momma Day, Slides, Caption Contest, Funnies

Well first we here at Hotdads know without Momma's we wouldn't be dads, but we'd still be hot I reckon so Happy Mothers Day to all you mothers out there.

1. Lay the wood Tiger!





When you are down in the dumps and think you have real problems, just remember:

SOMEWHERE IN THIS WORLD,
THERE IS A POOR GUY NAMED MR. PELOSI!...

2. Lay the rope George!


Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90%.
It's called a Wedding Cake.

3. LOL I think that is a plan!



5. Y'all can have my seat at the Pu Pu eatery!


7. LOL


Women will never be equal to men
Until they can walk down the street with a bald head
And a beer gut, and still think they are sexy. (Sounds like me!)

8. If your neck is just too short, this is a plan!

Why do men die before their wives?
They want to.

9. I do the same thing around boobies there lil man!

10. Well if your man and your kids didn't give you anything then here ya go. Some flowers from us to you!!


Caption contest............... surely y'all can come up with something!


Well there ya go. Steal whatcha wanna y'all have a great mothers day. Hit up Sageville, oh and you can enter my GIVE-AWAY as many times as you like! Awesome stuff there too! CHeck that out.

Happy Mothers day all.

Phillies Support Parents

On Wednesday, I posted a piece suggesting that the advent of digital music formats was responsible for the decline in proper teenage etiquette. Many of you supported that view, but lamented over a possible solution and a means of effective disciple. Well, just in time for Mother's Day, Major League Baseball's Philadelphia Phillies have announced a new program to do exactly that.
Parents are invited to bring their unruly kids to the ball park every Home Game Friday for a little High Voltage Old School Punishment during "Taze Dayz".












The first event featured only teenagers, but as you can see from the following photo, even younger children can participate.














For more Mother's Day Fun, swing over to Dogs & Jeans for some Demotivational Posters.