Marketing at its finest!!! Craigslist style

I thought that you all would get a kick out of this.

On a regular basis, I scan craigslist.com looking for a good heavy bag that I can put up here at the house.

Anyway...this morning I came across this add (which looked typical...until the last line.)

Punching bag with stand - $150

I'm selling my punching bag and the stand it hangs from because I no longer have a garage to keep them in. Both are in excellent condition. You can pick it up in the evening from my apartment. The bag will fit easily in any car but you'll need a truck to get the stand in one piece, since it's tall and wide. If you seriously want it and you call in advance, I'll disassemble it for you to make for easier transport, but of course you'll have to reassemble it once you get it home, so, your choice.

Anyways, call or email me if you want a new punching bag. It's great for blowing off steam and it's way better than beating your wife. Usually.

Conor

Yule Logs and Other Delights

My kids and I were watching Craig Ferguson the other night, laughing our asses off, as usual. (Don’t worry, I know the Scottish Conan comes on super late. Rest assured, we were watching in Tivo.) Craig Ferguson was standing up in front of the audience by himself, telling jokes, and I thought it was the funniest stuff the comic had thrown out there in a while. And not just because I was downing one of my best margarita recipe drinks.

“This, um… um… log thing… um… what’s it called? It’s funny!” I said.
“Monologue?” my daughter asked.
“Yeah, that’s it!”

To which both kids started giving me a hard time, like I was some old man with Alzheimer’s. How could I forget a word like monologue?

“There aren’t that many log words in the world,” my daughter said.

Oh, no?! Consider the gauntlet thrown!!!

Yule log – a big log that Europeans burn in their big-ass hearth right around this time of year. Perfect for spooning and snuggling on a bearskin rug (Northern Europe!), sipping Schnapps and Jaeger tea. Check the WPIX yule log video. If that doesn't get you in the spirit...

Duraflame log – our skanky American fire log counterpart to a yule log. Perfect for downing a Coors light, then heading into the other room to watch the game.

Web-log – haha!! Of course, these logs are near and dear to a lot of us. Whether you like a Hot Dad’s blog, a single parent blog, a sex and relationship blog, a sassy single woman blog, or whatever. Web-logs rock!

Log-arithm – some old-school math concept I knew back when I was handsome and young, as opposed to sexy and old. With Alzheimer’s!

Ana-log – another one of those concepts I used to describe in mathematical terms. Now I just say that digital is ones and zeros, and analog is like the curves of a fine ass woman.

Big log – who can forget the Robert Plant song? Go on, play it. You know you want to hear it again.

Lincoln log – remember those? Back when kids played with toys and other manipulative objects, rather than sneaking off to go on Facebook or play video games?

Log-gers – not that I’m into lumberjacks or cutting down trees, I’m just extremely competitive when it comes to my teen daughter and her gauntlets thrown.

Log - urban dictionary lists a ton of different meanings for log, one of which you might send in a dirty text.

I could rattle off some potty humor and pinch off another log or two. But I’m a Hot Dad, and we know how to keep things couth.

Now then, if only I knew how to end this blogging monologue. Are there log-istics for that?

A Hot Dad's Failing Vision - Humor

Late-night talk show host and comic Craig Ferguson is around the same age as me. So when he makes fun of himself for feeling old, I can relate completely. I’m at the age where I can go to bed healthy, then wake up injured. And not from some weird sexual move. Just sleep!

When Craig Ferguson makes fun of old men, he makes his voice sound old, he pretends to use a walker, he acts like his hearing is gone, he feigns getting a botox treatment.

Craig, I have news for you – as Father Time wreaks havoc on my body, he’s going straight for my eyes. I can’t see shit anymore! (I exaggerate, but you get the point.)

To wit: I’ve worn glasses since I was five, so I’m pretty used to getting around with spectacles on. A few years back, though, I was wearing some fashionably small lenses and discovered I no longer had peripheral vision. I’d be in a bar (I’m a single parent on the dating scene), see a hot sexy woman walk by, attempt to slyly glance at her butt (I’m an ass man, dammit, and I love spooning naked. What can I say?) – only to discover I couldn’t see shit.

My solution? I had to turn my entire head in the direction of every hot woman’s ass that walked by. Talk about obvious. Yeah, I got some looks, especially for the occasional older men younger women scenario (Hey, it happens.) No slaps, thank goodness. I’ve since started wearing really big glasses. Almost like Harry Caray wore – yikes!

To wit: I can no longer read the wine list in a dimly lit restaurant or wine bar. The text is all fancy and small, and it just blurs up for me. No way am I going to bust out my reading glasses at a time like that. How the hell would I look at any hot women’s butts?

My solution? I fake like I’m wine savvy, and have the bartender lead me through his picks of something red, bold, not too sweet, leathery, peppery, whatever. Of course, I have no idea what price glass he’s hawking until I get the bill. But my Hot Dad-ness remains in tact. I’m no old man when I’m out. Sexy and funny is more my style.

I’m starting to wonder if Ben Franklin invented the bifocal just so he could order wine and check out women’s asses without having to swap the spectacles on his face, and without getting slapped.

Ben's a genius!

Harry Caray billboard photo by David Paul Ohmer, some rights reserved.

Things I suck at

Generally speaking, I'd like to think that I'm pretty handy. Change the oil, unclog a sink, replace a light fixture, assemble toys, figure out electronics, bring it on, I can handle it.

But someone, I forget who, tweeted something the other day about tying a tie, which reminded me just how much I suck at that.

Case in point, I used to be an enlisted Soldier in the US Army. The proper way to tie a tie for the Class A uniform is a four-in-hand knot. While I could never get it to look just right, especially for a Drill Sergeant's standards, my battle-buddy in basic training could. So he tied my tie for me, and all I did was loosen it enough to slip it over my head and tighten the knot each time I wore it.

No kidding, I never untied that tie for the entire 6 yrs that I was enlisted. In fact, 12 yrs later, that tie is still tied, hanging in a closet somewhere with my dress uniform.

Let's not even talk about bow-ties. A select few blog friends have seen a picture of Veronica and I at my sisters wedding and I'm wearing my dress blue uniform. The bow-tie was a clip on...

I wish I knew what happened to my battle buddy from basic training, I'd like to thank him. But I can't for the life of me remember his name. Another thing I suck at....

Wanna see a picture of baby Hubman? Visit my hangout today!

I Have Loved, I Have Lived - College Application Essay

My teen daughter is currently going through the college application process. This, of course, involves writing college application essays (multiple!) I feel for her. College application essays count for a lot in the admissions process, and they’re no fun to write.

And so, I figured I’d write my own college application essay, as if I was applying to the university of my choice this year.

I freely admit to plagiarizing the opening line of my essay from something that was apparently written by a student applying to UCLA back in the 80s. I believe the entire essay was reprinted in the LA Times, but I couldn’t find it through search. Apologies to the author. After the first sentence, the rest is mine…

College Application Essay – All About Me

I have loved, I have lived. I have traveled to Europe four times, and South America once. I can fix a flat tire on my bicycle. I speak seventeen languages, and worked the reception desk at the United Nations two summers ago. I know how to grill salmon perfectly with just salt and pepper. Bono is a personal friend of mine. A simple margarita recipe I jotted down on a cocktail napkin inspired a Jimmy Buffett song. I'm the bastard child of an older man younger woman relationship. I can bunt a fastball down the third base line. I once received a drunk texting marriage proposal and politely declined. I can fix a Mai Tai without any juice. Grey’s Anatomy is based on an experience I once had. I can drain the venom from a cobra. I'm an expert at programming the Prius navigation system. Kim Kardashian once asked me for personal training advice. I know where Waldo is. I built a Humvee military vehicle from scratch in my basement. My chicken and dumplings recipe was freeze-dried for a Space Shuttle mission. I have a picture of your university mascot tattooed on my ass.

Go State!

David Mott
Future Alumnus, Class of 2014

When a Date Wants to Polish the (blank)

A recent date who came into my home suggested that something needed to be polished. Now, now, get your urban dictionary mind out of the knob-polishing gutter.

She noticed my highball glasses had water spots!

(For the record, I don't let just anyone into my house. I may be virile in my 40s with plenty of sexy and funny stories, but you gotta be eager.)

Apparently my date's mom had taught her to polish every glass as if you were a high-end restaurant. After all, you never knew who might come over, and how much it might be worth to impress them.

(When she said "worth", I sort of tuned out. Her family was into money, and her mom played hostess to daddy's CEO friends. Sounds like a lonely housewife to me. I just liquor my guests up on my best margarita recipe, and hope they don't notice water spots.)

The experience made me think - what things do I polish, and what do I let slide?

Cars - I know there are hot dads (and teen boys) who wax the hell out of their cars. They'll polish the hood, polish the wheels, polish the seats. Me? I'm lucky if the bug that splatted my windshield on highway 101 gets squeegeed off the next time I fill up on gas.

Chrome appliances - I polish my espresso machine (there's an eagle on top!), but I never polish my toaster. And yet, the toaster gets more fingerprints. Why do I not care about this much-used appliance? Um, because my kids get their grubby paws on it whenever they toast up pita bread for a hummus-slathered afternoon snack? (i.e. daily) It will just get finger-printy again.

Glasses (of the spectacle sort) - I polish the heck out of my glasses daily. I use glasses cleaner, and one of those micro-fiber cloths. More work than lasik, I suppose. But no one's cutting my eyes.

Martini shaker - I polish this every time I use it. Natch. (Did I mention there's a connection between drinking and sex?)

As for my date, it turned out she did actually enjoy polishing things besides highball, martini, and wine glasses.

I'll leave it at that, and keep this post PG-13.

I'm an Ass, Man

Hey, wait a sec. Who stuck that comma in the title? This was supposed to be a post about how I’m an Ass Man. How I love the backside of a woman’s body. How you can tell things about a woman from her butt, like whether she works out, and how sexy she is. (All inspired by the Hot Dads post, MILFy is... Hot Boobs or a Great Ass?)

With a comma in the title, how am I supposed to wax poetic about Kim Kardashian’s derriere?

Sigh. I guess I’ll roll with the punches, and write about how I’m an ass. (All you Dad’s House readers quit snickering! Self-deprecation is a good thing.)

I’m an ass because… in the Mai Tai recipe I posted on my blog, I said to use 4 parts rum to 1 part amaretto. Some poor reader commented that he made the drink with 4 jiggers of rum. That’s 6-8 oz of booze in one drink! The concoction was so alcohol loaded, he feared a cocktail fire might break out. My bad for giving a ratio without a measurement. Clearly, if I’d said “one part is 2/3 oz.”, he would have made the perfect tropical drink, and I wouldn’t be an ass.

I'm an ass because... I once left such a cheeky comment on QTMama's blog, she was compelled to delete it! No, QT is not a communist China censor. She's a lovely single mom blogger who happens to have a boyfriend now. In an effort to be funny, I crossed a line, and she'd have nothing of it. (Good for her!) Clearly, if I'd written a comment that was more sensitive (and boring! haha), I wouldn't be an ass. (Does that 'boring' crack make me an ass, twice again? Doh!)

I’m an ass because… I blog about reality TV stars Jon and Kate Gosselin from the show Jon and Kate Plus 8, asking where do Jon and Kate Gosselin live (in denial!), and pondering what the future may hold for the family after a Jon and Kate divorce. One Dad’s House reader said I had no business judging Jon and Kate.Look, I’m not judging them. Heck, I’m divorced too. I’m merely using their much-publicized actions as a springboard for opinionated debate about divorce and single parenting. Clearly, if I’d started my own reality TV show and gotten as famous as them, I could have kept blogging about my own life, and I wouldn’t be an ass.

I’m an ass because… I once sent dirty text messages to a woman I hadn’t yet met. Hey, we met online. We simply hadn’t yet had our first date. Problem is, if you heat things up too quickly, the whole dating thing can spontaneously combust. Besides, she started it! Clearly, if I’d kept my text messages clean, she and I would be happily dating right now, and I wouldn’t be an ass. (At least I didn't send sexy text messages to a lover on a prepaid go phone hidden from a spouse, like one Dad's House reader found his wife doing. If you haven't read that post, you need to.)

I'm an ass because... when Mindy Mom visited San Francsico and we met for lunch, I picked her and her 3-year-old daughter up at their hotel, drove four blocks to North Beach, then spent 15 minutes trying to find parking, which resulted in us driving four more blocks to the far side of North Beach, then walking back to get a bite. (Follow all that?) Clearly, if I'd looked at a map, or had a clue about that part of San Francsico, we could have enjoyed a lovely stress-free stroll from her hotel to the restaurant, and I wouldn't be an ass.

I’m an ass because… the margarita recipe that I love so much came from my favorite Mexican restaurant. It was a huge reason I went there weekly to eat. And now that I know how they fix that drink (served with rocks and salt, amigo!), I can make those margaritas at home, which means I don’t eat at their restaurant quite so often anymore (what an ass!). (The food is excellent there, btw. But it’s a down economy, and I need to cut back somehow.) Clearly, if I’d drunk more shots of Herradura Anejo tequila and didn’t write down that tequila brand name when I was there, I’d still be drinking margaritas at their restaurant every week, and I wouldn’t be an ass.

I’m an ass because… I’m the Hot Dad who stuck that comma in the title. I thought it would be clever fun to write a post like this. Clearly, if I’d left the comma out, this post would be plastered with pictures of Kim Kardashian’s booty, and I wouldn’t be an ass.

(At least I snuck a pic in....)

Image from flickr by remolacha.net fotos, some rights reserved CC BY-NC 2.0.

Midsummer Midterm Exam

In his bestselling book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell makes the point that kids in some other countries do better academically because they attend school for more days each year than kids in the US. Gladwell shares the results of some studies that suggest knowledge is lost during summer vacation (ya think?)

An interesting wrinkle, though - the knowledge is only lost to children who don't read and study during the summer months. His point being that children from well-off families tend to read and do intellectual activities during the summer, putting them ahead of their lesser-off peers.

With the economic downturn, I'm guessing we're all feeling lesser off these days. So in a spirit of helping everyone stay smart, I'm giving all the Hot Dads and Hot Moms a midsummer midterm quiz. Pencils up. Ready?

First the elementary school questions:

1. Who is the US President?

2. How tall is Lance Armstrong? (take a guess)

3. Could Tom Brady's wife, Gisele Bundchen, have any more tattoos? (image link)

Now the middle school questions:

4. Does anyone have a better hamburger seasoning recipe than me? (haha)

5. What do the Hot Dads think of Friends with Benefits?

6. Does anyone care about the Jon and Kate divorce, let alone about Jon and Kate Gosselin dating news?

And now for the Isaac Asimov genius questions:

7. Is raising girls easy?

8. How does Michael Caine like his women? (video link)

9. How many licks does it take for a Hot Mom to get to the center of a tootsie pop? (video link)

I was going to give a tenth question, but summer is calling, and it's time for everyone to put those pencils down.

Go forth and be stupid. It's summer vacation!!

Easy answers: 1) Barack Obama, 2) 5'10", 3) no

Middle school answers: 4) no (hey, it's my post!), 5) various responses (you have to read that post), 6) yes (or they wouldn't be on People magazine)

Genius answers: 7) for some, 8) like his sangria (watch the video!), 9) 3 (watch the video!)