Honea Express

Archive for the ‘guest blogger’ Category

Chances are you’ve read the last few posts and thought that I was pretty much the best dad ever, and you’d be right. Chances are even better that you didn’t read the last few posts. Your loss, seeing as people think I’m pretty much the best dad ever.

The thing is my status as best dad ever, pretty much, is based upon a criteria of relativity and supply and demand. If you’re a dad there’s a decent chance someone thinks the same of you, although, to be honest, some of you are fairly suspect.

I’ve spent two days with my hand in a butt crack that isn’t mine. I’m just throwing that out there.

Zane woke up sick on his birthday. He woke up about 5 minutes after his ass did. Fast forward a few hours later and my hand is silky smooth and will never know the likes of diaper rash. His butt, however, is tender as the night, assuming the night is raw, chaffed and burning. I’ve known nights like that.

This morning he finally seems better. I’m sure it’s not over, but the healing has begun. I feel a sense of hope that the only crack my hand will be in is my own, albeit briefly.

He’s been dancing all morning to the Flobots and singing about riding his bike with no handlebars, which, just between us, is bullshit because he can barely handle his tricycle, but who am I to mess with creative license?

I only hope I don’t have to hear my son cry today, and not in an earplugs sort of way, but in the sweet kind of way that you’ve come to expect from pretty much the best dad ever.

This is the part where my mom cries.

For some reason the good folks at MamaPop asked me to write on their site today, which means they are either extremely desperate or gluttons for punishment. Whatevs. I did a recap of “Heroes.” I’m the poor man’s TiVo and so can you!

There is a new Redneck in the blog park, and as custom done dictates a shower is being thrown. I know, it sounds like a waste of water, but don’t worry, we already flushed the toilet this week. If I’m wasting anything, it’s commas, and possibly away (in Margaritaville. Again.).

The lovely Tanis, aka Redneck Mommy, has welcomed a new child to the clan. That’s clan with a ‘c.’ She’s a redneck, but she ain’t no idjit.

Tanis loves her family and her country, her beer, her boobs and her blog. Not necessarily in that order. I can’t help but feel a connection there. A tingly one. That’s not to say I wouldn’t have to pay for it, but I’m betting she’d give me a decent discount- especially when you consider the exchange rate. But I digress.

In light of her family’s happy addition I have been invited (by people with questionable judgment) to share what it is that makes me a redneck parent. I immediately thought of this post. I didn’t think about this one or this one at all but saw them while I was digging around in the archives and figured they fit, kind of, so what the hell, right? Love me.

The thing is, I’m one of those very handsome elite types that you always see on the moving picture box, and as such I tend to think of redneck parenting as letting my kids read any book by John Grisham or doing sudoku with only six numbers. Super-sizing their Happy Meals and taking their cousin(s) to prom also come to mind (void if she’s hot).

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe that Tanis falls into this mold. We all know her “redneck” is a thinly masked euphemism for something a bit more…

Oh wait, this is a kid thing.

A sweet, new, welcome to the blog park kid thing, and that is just good ol’ awesome no matter how many teeth you say it through.

Congratulations, Rednecks. You done good.

My good friend Anthony was kind enough to make a guest post video. He’s drunk. It’s how he do.

Heeeeeeeeere’s Antho!

Let’s give Bill a round of applause as we zip up his mouth hole. I hope he has a safety word (or mumble).

Today is the last day of guest-post week(s), not because I’m ready to start writing again, but because the rest of the bloggers that offered up posts were, in fact, whispering sweet nothings and making empty promises. I feel so foolish.

Most of those teases claim that they “haven’t forgotten about me,” yeah, well that doesn’t put posts on my blog, does it? I guess if you want something done half-ass you’ve got to do it yourself. And I will.

Yes, there is a guest post today, but I’ve been told that it isn’t actually a post. It’s a theme song. I’m supposed to put it at the beginning of each of my posts, or as the case may be, this post.

The little ditty was composed by none other than Shawn, aka, Backpacking Dad. Shawn is very popular with the mommy blogger crowd due to his rugged boy-band looks and his willingness to just be friends. Me, I tend to run a bit dangerous for that crowd. They know I’m just a few cocktails away from bliss and regret. It’s my thing.

Please welcome Shawn and the Honea Express Theme, followed by a post from your host, that’s me.

Let’s hear it for the band, folks!

It’s raining. I won’t say it is raining today, because it’s only been doing so for about twenty minutes and it is already starting to slow and the forecast says that it will be 92◦ today, which is crap, and it’s always crap and it’s the end of September and it’s cooling down to 92◦, which in my book is bullshit. Or crap, like I said before.

It hasn’t rained here since April. It may have been March. Hell, it may have been January, since that’s the last rain that I can actually remember.

And now the rain has stopped.

Two minutes in heaven is better than one minute in heaven.

There is jazz on the stereo, coffee in my cup and thunder in the distance. It is the whispers of sweet nothings and the making of empty promises. It reminds me of people I know.

I need more rain to cool me down. I’m exhausted and I’m hot, and these showers leave nothing but steam.

I feel naked. My life is now an open book. Thanks, Matthew (xoxoxo).

Last night I was on Karl’s radio show, and despite the fact that I broke it I think it went pretty well. Of course we couldn’t compete with the new TV shows and only a group of hardcore TiVo owners made the original airing. Luckily(?) for you the show is available as a podcast at SecondHand Tryptophan and on iTunes. Basically, it’s a chat over beer between myself and Karl with the occasional aside through the 4th wall (that’s showbiz talk). It was a good time.

Today is Bill’s day. Bill’s blog is The Frowning of a Lifetime and it is good stuff. Hey kids, he draws the cartoons. Bill plays bass in a punk band and writes sports tickers for a living. He spends Sundays on my couch eating pizza and drinking beer.

Please welcome Bill!