Ahh, the taste of shoe leather.

One of these days some young man will stumble upon this blog (cause that's the only way someone other than my wife will read it) and hopefully find some helpful insights on married life.


LESSON ONE: Get used to the taste of your own foot.  Maybe even wash it once in a while or hit it with that tough actin' tinactin, 'cause you'll be putting it in your mouth all the time.


Hopefully your wife is pretty cool and you can pass the stupid comments that come out of your mouth off as witty humor.  That is not the case with me.  Shit I did it again.  I just made it seem like I don't have a cool wife; when what I meant was I'm not smooth enough to gloss over the idiotic things that come out of my mouth like a toddler's projectile vomit.


LESSON TWO: This almost always happens when you are talking about other women.  For example:


My wife found a picture my brother and I snapped of a really hot chick at his work (he's a bad influence). Thankfully, my wife is one of those cool chicks who realizes that men have wandering eyes and that doesn't necessarily mean anything.  However, I can still manage to fuck that up.


"So I saw that picture on your phone." She says.


"Yeah...I actually snagged Brian's phone to snap that one."  I say with far too much honesty.


"So you emailed it to yourself so you could beat off to it later?"


"Uhh..."


"Did she have a pretty face?"


"I dunno."


"That just goes to show that all guys really care about is a body."


"No, it was just the way she was dressed.  I mean if a chick is just wearing sweat pants and stuff a pretty face can really stand out."  This was NOT a smooth thing to say.  Then I made it worse.  "I dated this one girl in high-school who did not have the face, but had a bangin' body.  Seriously, but I caught a bunch of shit from my friends that called her horse face."


"Blah, blah blah."  I can't really remember what she said at this point, since this is when I managed to channel Bruce Lee's spirit and plant my foot in my mouth with the force of a flying kick.


"Seriously, when we met you were so fucking hot. You were everything I had ever dreamed about."


"Were?"


My brain says to me: "Oh fuck!"


"Were? What do you mean by that?


My Brain: "Quick! Come up with something!"


"Honey, neither of us looks like we did when we got married."  As if that comment could smooth things over.


My Brain: "Oh you're fucked."


LESSON THREE:  'WERE' is a verb - plural form of was, which is past tense of the verb am/is/are which is part of the "state of being" verb "to be".  You should never, EVER, use it in relation to your wife.  Rather, learn to use the present tense; You are.


(BTW: Baby, you are the sexiest woman in the world, and I want to do bad things to you.)

Damn....

Work has got me burnt out.  I'm a supervisor at the city's community center (there isn't much "community" about it in my opinion, its just a revenue stream) where I basically co-ordinate the workings of the building for the entire shift.  For the most part this is just a matter of keeping things to the same routine, and people who have worked with me know what to expect, what happens when, and need very little direction.  That's the good people at least.  Unfortunately the good people either advance and become supervisors or get stuck in a rut and get bitter. Once they are a super I don't get to work with them anymore.  The veterans are bitter, the others are incompetent.  Oh, and there's the new people.  We've had a rash of new people who take a lot of coaching.  I'm not sure where my boss finds these people.  And I also have to deal with all the kids from broken homes who just get dropped off at our building everyday.  Their parents won't come get them until we close, they eat dinner out of our vending machines, and are generally little assholes that give me grief.

  </bitch and moan, moan and bitch>

Anyways, its getting to me and I was a total prick to my wife when I got home.  Just grumpy and contrary when I didn't need to be.

On to the soothing world of minecraft....

Yarr!

Found a new band I really like.   They have that alt country vibe like Deer Tick.  Give the album a spin and buy it if you like it.

Frontier Ruckus -- Deadmalls and Nightfalls [DF]

Frontier Ruckus -- The Orion Songbook. [MF]


These are not my uploads, so if the links die let me know.

Here we go.

Jesus, she is so gonna post more than I am.  You can find my wife's blog over here,  I'll try to figure out how to add it to the side bar so you can see her side of things in more detail.  Generally though, I'm only going to excerpt bits and pieces that I have an opinion on and can twist to my own biased point of view.  At least I'm honest right?  Oh, and she's decided to refer to me as "Mr. Mom".  Really?  I prefer king of the house.  Maybe "bad ass dad".  That has a nice ring to it.

So, I'm a stay at home dad, with a three year old son and a little girl on the way.  My wife is going to blog about our daily lives (read: arguments), her crafts, my mad parenting skills (read: lack of skills), and our undying love for each other (read: her tolerance of my crap).

Here's a summary of her first ten paragraph post: My son is a prick.

Ok, so this might not be as much work as I thought.

Her second post goes into a little misunderstanding we had involving my mother.  I'll post my thoughts about that one later.

Howdy

So my wife decided to enter the world of blogging today.  She wants to share stories about her hobbies, our kids, and family life; it quickly became clear to me that I might have some explaining to do if people started reading about the things that go on around here.  After all, the husband's perspective might be just a little different.  Hopefully this will help me set the story straight should things start looking bad.