Archive for the ‘thinking I might get laid’ Category

10 Years of, Duh, Winning

Where were you 10 years ago today? I’ll throw you a bone, it was a Friday and the world, according to some country singer, was still turning. America was unattacked and the majority of its citizens were far smarter than the president. My children were still years away from being born and loved ones were still years away from dying. Things were different then, but the times, according to some folk singer, were a-changin’.

I woke up that Friday morning and set straight to pacing. At some point friends showed up and we set straight to drinking. Then we dressed like penguins and stood in the Arizona heat hoping that the ice didn’t melt. Finally, the sun went down and the music went up. My life would never be the same.

And then there is a montage of moving trucks and pitchers of margaritas. There are new jobs and blurred faces and babies crying and moments frozen in my mind forever. Ten years is a short time spread over something that stretches out further. It bends and tangles. It mends and loves and never once breaks. In the spring it drives along the coast with something great on the radio and the windows open.

Ten years ago we wed. Since then we’ve made mistakes and excuses. And we’ve done wonderful things. Ten years is something strong to build upon.

Happy Anniversary, Tricia. I hope you’re enjoying the ride.

Please note, that last line is about the roller coaster of life — not sex. Of course she’s enjoying that.

And this is what we danced to.


Quick on the UpTake and Why I Can’t Wear Business Socks

As most of you know I am the Lead Editor of Vacations over at UpTake. It’s okay to be impressed. Today UpTake has launched its official press release which is more or less a tribute to me and some fine print. At least that’s the way my mom will read it.

Here is the press release.

Here is the official About Us page for the team of bloggers currently writing for UpTake Vacations. Many of your favorites are there and probably a few you don’t care for. I’m the handsome one.

Please check it out, and if you haven’t done so add us to your RSS. Yes, it’s a travel blog, but I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with the tales we weave- especially in the next few weeks. There will be action, sex and adventure! Imagine if Indiana Jones had a blog instead of a hat. Yes, it’s that good.


Are you a man? Do you do stupid stuff on Valentine’s Day just like in the movies, but instead of being an offensive stereotype it’s actaully true? Did you laugh at that commercial during the Super Bowl where the flowers in the box made fun of the lady in the office and now you’re wondering why the internettes can’t take a freaking joke? Then do I have the link for you!

Visit DadCentric and win some nice flowers that don’t have mouths and may actually increase your odds of getting lucky.


Here’s why I can’t wear business socks- or any socks for that matter. I just thought business socks was funny since I was talking business and I love “Flight of the Conchords.”

I just broke my toe. And by “just” I mean less than an hour ago and yet I am able to blog like a freaking champ. Take that (insert more popular blogger’s name) .

Thing 2 was trying to get a jar of jam out of the refrigerator and dropped it. As I was standing behind him and the jar was going to hit him in the head I thought it my paternal duty to prevent said collision. I reached for the jar, tripped on the kid and in no time at all that big Costco jar full of jam was landing just right on my toe- the freakishly long second toe, which I understand means I’m a great lover.

I spent the next few minutes looking up “wuss” in the dictionary and wincing in pain. The toe is split open with part of it hanging loose, but not like Matthew McConaughey. More like I now have two toes where once was one. This is really going to confuse the little pigs.

I actually don’t know if it’s really broken, but I do know that it hurts like someone dropped a heavy object from a great height on a small bone and shredded it into pulled pork. It hurts like that (which is more than this).


In closing I would like to thank everyone for their responses on my last two posts. Normally I would address people in the comments, but what with the toe and the press and the stuff.

I’m especially grateful to those that commented on the post about my grandmother and those that emailed me with personal messages. I know posts like that may be uncomfortable to read, but I needed to write it. In four years of blogging I can count on one hand the number of posts that were as hard to share as that one. My sincere thanks.



Per Mitch’s Request

As I mentioned previously, some kind folks were nice enough to give me some topic suggestions. I’m going to do them all now because the wife and kids are out of town and I have no life. It’s very, very sad to be honest. I do have a cold Moose Drool at my side though, and some Shout Out Louds on the iTunes, so I’ll make the most of it.

Mitch McDad mitchmcdad @whithonea Single what? Perhaps you should be more specific. As for blog fodder…how about the Honea Express guide to oral sex.

That Mitch is a rogue and often works blue. I wasn’t sure what he meant at first, so I looked “oral sex” up in the dictionary. Oral obviously means to speak, and sex, of course, is the tenderest of moments when two people love each other and rub their special purposes together.

Then it dawned on me, Mitch wants to hear some of the love poems that I’ve recited to my lover! Oh, Mitch, why didn’t you just say so?

Of course, since I’m writing them down they will no longer be oral, but if you read them aloud to your lover everything should be okay. It’s like group sex, which I’ll look up in the dictionary later.

Here are the poems:

Pretty woman, love of my life,
if you get pregnant I’ll make you my wife.


Girl I met in a funky bar,
sing me songs in the back of my car
and by “sing” I mean sex.


Lying here with you in my arms,
beneath fire escapes and car alarms,
I wish you would have told me
that was going to cost extra


Roses are red, violets are blue
I paid for the bed, cables free too!


I beg and plead,
please let’s be free
I want and I need,
you’re saving me
I choke on these words
my heart has a limp
I never asked to be the gimp


Well, there you are, Mitch. I hope these soft words of love and magic add a touch of romance to your own moments of oral sex.


Of Motherhood and Wedding Bells

The boys woke Tricia up yesterday with gifts and cards and screaming. Mostly screaming.

It was Mother’s Day. It was also our anniversary. That’s a lot of pressure on a guy. I didn’t plan anything.

“What do you want to do today?” asked Tricia as I stood peeing with the door open.

“Whatever you want, baby. It’s your day.” It was that romantic.

We discussed our options. Everything seemed like more money than we wanted to spend so we decided to go with the cheapest option: Disneyland.

I know, it doesn’t sound cheap, but we have annual passes (that include parking) so we were able to hit Starbucks, go to both parks at Disneyland Resort, have lunch, a beer, ice cream for the boys, and buy a couple of things, all for under a hundred bucks. Total. Not bad for a family of four.

It was a banner day. It sure as hell beat our anniversary last year (see also 5 years and 4 years). Plus, they gave Tricia a flower at the gate, so there’s that.

Normally this is the part where I’d wax all poetic and say sweet things, but I’m just not feeling it. It’s not that I don’t have those feelings, it’s just that all I’ve had today is a pot of coffee and two Cliff bars and frankly, I can barely sit still, let alone enjoy a moment of tender reflection. Besides, she knows I love her. I said so in the card(s).


It’s Better than Picking My Nose

I wrote poems at stoplights. So what? Feeling creative feels alive, even if it was only for a few minutes in a car. It’s like sex, except in the front seat, and I never got a cramp. Plus, it was free. However, you’re bound to be equally bored.

light 1
Streams to oceans
shallow and deep,
I flow too-
I scream. I weep.
I judge you unfairly
as you float on my waves.

light 2
There are trees out there
that never lose their leaves
despite cold and wind
and possible ridicule
from an exposed birch
that sways naked and free
with nothing to hide

light 3
Rabbits run across dams
and Updikes
throwing aside browning greens
like an unsolicited literary reference,
and they smile at their own absurdity

light 4
I wrote four poems
in the car today
in little less than twenty minutes
and perhaps this is the worst of them
or perhaps it is the best.
If that is the case
then the others must suck
because this isn’t so much a poem
as it is a reminder
that I only wrote three poems
in the car today
And that’s not all. I hit another light:

Silent somber shuffles
of a forgotten box-step
restless as leaves
floating obliviously
over bared souls
and buried secrets-
some birds fly
south for the winter
and some forget
how to come home.
In the next song
I will dip you
if you promise
to think of me.
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