Take a backseat, fantasy football and online scrabble

At this point if you are reading this, I can only imagine you arrived here accidentally. Four and a half months without any updates can shake the faith of even the truest believers. I should probably change the name of the blog to "assume if you will that the hyphen still exists," but that would require adjusting settings and what not, and as you can tell by the lack of one single visual element on this entire blog, I'm not especially tech-savvy. Plus that wouldn't be a clever play on words. Come to think of it, not making that change is probably the best decision I've made in my entire life. (That includes the time I was with the gang and I ordered an extra pizza pie even though everybody thought three would be enough, and there wasn't a single slice left because most people were hungrier than they anticipated due to tricky weather and everyone was chanting in unison "though initially frowned upon, your decision to order that extra pizza pie ultimately proved essential to satisfying our collective appetites. As a man renowned for your great decision-making, your inclusion of a an extra pizza pie in our order would easily stand twenty-thirty yards above all of your other decisions if your decisions were somehow stacked next to one another and their heights were propotional to how awesome they were.")

Anyway, I live with my girlfriend now. We've lived together since June. It's great in tons of ways, but after living with dudes for the past 7 years there are definitely adjustments to be made- especially when it comes to chores, like doing laundry and stuff. Now more than ever I have to make sure I do my laundry in a timely fashion because borrowing my roomates underwear when all of mine are dirty is very uncomfortable- no matter how pretty it makes me feel.


Having parents who are good cooks is pretty lucky. You know whose parents probably weren’t that great in the kitchen? The dude who coined the phrase “this is the greatest thing since sliced bread.” For that to become his measuring stick, you gotta think his mom packed some pretty lousy lunches before sliced bread hit the market. He must’ve been getting non-food stuffs- a book of matches, some nail clippings, maybe a pinecone for dessert. After that a slice of wonder bread is like fine dining. Then one time he was at a friends house and he ate something all bold and zesty and said “this white rice is the greatest thing since sliced bread!”

If you are a single man and you want a sure-fire way to attract the attention of females but you don't want the responsibility of owning or walking an adorable puppy, I suggest walking around the city streets eating a delicious cupcake. Worst case scenario-you've eaten a delicious cupcake. Not too bad, huh?

I’m a pretty big risk-taker tht’s why I’m willing to potentially ruin my first born son’s life for the sake of personal amusement. Pretty courageous I know. Here’s what I’m talking about: my first born son’s name is going to be in quotes. My wife can choose the name, I’m a reasonable man, but whatever it is, you can be sure it’s going to have quotation marks on either side. It’ll be awesome. I’ll carry a picture of him in my wallet, show it off to co-workers, they’ll ask what’s his name? And I’ll say that’s my boy “Don.” They’ll be like what do you mean “Don?” And I’ll say, that’s his name “Don.” They’ll act perplexed and ask why I keep using quotes, as if his name is allegedly Don, and I’ll get really matter of fact and say I’m his gosh dang father so believe me when I tell you, no if’s ands or buts about it, the child’s name is “Don.” I’ll be really adamant about the quotes too. Raise him not to answer to people calling him plain old Don. Nobody will be able to ask for him over the phone because we won’t acknowledge their requests since we can’t confirm that they’re using quotes. His school will have to make special scantrons just for him with quotation marks in the name section. We’ll call him “ ” for short. And then one day when he’s finally old enough to stand up to his old man, he’ll be perched atop my shoulders as we get set for a chicken fight against his mother and his sister in our above ground pool, and he’ll say to me: Dad, I know the quotes make me unique and all, but Don? That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard. And’ I’ll say, listen “Don” but when I make the quotes, he’ll fall off my shoulders just as my wife and daughter approached us and my daughter will be so emboldened by her belief that she won the chicken fight that she will go on to become the first female to win a gold medal at the Olympics. So who’s the jerk now?