Getting to Know WhyIsDaddyCrying

I had a work related human resources question yesterday, and as it was being answered it made my mind wander back to what it would be like to be a human resources person and how awesome it would be to ask the questions that drives everyone fucking nuts!!

“What do you feel you will bring to our organization?”

“What are your strengths?”

“What is your biggest weakness.”

“Can you please take your shirt off and twirl around for me?”….oh…I probably should have said that in my brain I’m the HR person for a porn film company.

So then I thought…wouldn’t it be awesome to do a real interview and actually answer the dreaded “What is your biggest weakness?” question honestly?

Interviewer: So WhyIsDaddyCrying, what would you say your biggest weakness is?

Me: Really? Are you fucking serious? You’re really going to ask me this god-forsaken question. Fine ya douche…let me answer it…

It honestly depends on who you’re talking to. My wife – she’d tell you it’s in keeping my hands to myself. She’d say the ability to keep the palm of my hands from her breasts or ass as she tries to walk by me is absolutely vacant from my physical capabilities.

My friends…they’d have a laundry list of my biggest weaknesses:

• Inability to not use the word “fuck” in any sentence.
• Incapable of having a conversation without making the sound of a can of beer opening.
• Cannot go to a wedding without monopolizing the dance floor with a litany of yard dances.
• Twitches in public the point that people call 911 cause they think he’s having a seizure.
• Refers to women as “broads” except for when he’s talking to them face-to-face.
• Gets involved in serious conversations, then in the middle says, “oh, before I forget, here – I found this the other day for you” then reaches in his pocket and pulls his hand out with his middle finger sticking up.
• Is obsessed with being naked.
• Refuses to get the massive gap in his two front teeth fixed.
• Believes he’s fat…to the point he really should read “O Magazine” while watching Oxygen channel while wearing a skirt and bitching about the run in his pantyhose.
• Thinks it's OK to jump on a friend when they’re lying on the couch and dry-hump the hell out of them.
• When peeing in a public restroom at the same time as a friend, loves to say out loud so everyone can hear him – “my doctor said pretty soon I won’t have to the peel the scab off before I pee anymore. I can’t wait!!”
• Loves to walk next to his son, reach his foot around and kick him in the ass while acting like it wasn't him
• Periodically goes downstairs like everything's normal while wearing nothing but a pair of his wife's underwear

Does that answer your question or would you like me to continue.

Interviewer: Ummm…..well I…..you should probably gather your things and leave.

Me: Really? We’re not a match? That’s a shame because I really admire the mission of your organization and feel I could help drive a variety of strategic and successful initiatives under your leadership. Well..good luck to you anyway. In case you change your mind…let me reach in my pocket and get a business card for you……

Herding Cats is Making Me Crazy

I thought I’d just give a quick run-through of this past Friday morning. A somewhat typical morning in my family’s house.

4:41 a.m. – My alarm goes off. I make the snooze bar my bitch for a little bit, by 4:55 a.m. I’m out of bed. Kick back some water, head off to the Y and have an awesome spin class.

6:45 a.m. I cruise back up to the house. It’s the wifey’s first day of work. Before I left earlier, I had re-set the alarm for 6:30 a.m. to wake her up while I was gone. I slowly look up and no lights are on.

“Shit!”

6:46 a.m. I open the back door and I hear someone stomping up the basement stairs, turn the corner…it’s my daughter. She continues, then stomps up the stairs to the second floor. She’s carrying clothes. I think to myself..well, that’s a start!

Daughter – “These mommy!! I WANT TO WEAR THESE!!!”

“Oh fuck..” I say as I drop my gym back. I walk into the kitchen to make a quick cup of coffee and WWIII in its very infancy upstairs. I think, "bye sanity..it was nice knowing you. It was such a short relationship."

7:00 a.m. Slowly I walk up the stairs..

Wifey – “Grayson, get your pants on son!!”

Son – “IIIIIII AAAAAMMMMMM!!!!”
Wifey –“Macy..no, you cannot wear that you wore it yesterday and it’s dirty, put this on now!”

Daughter – “But it’s blue!!! I’ll look like a boy!!”

I hesitate for a second before reaching the top of the stairs, only because I remembered there’s still a ton of beer in the fridge. Then I continue up… I look in my son’s room and he’s still in his little red undies tapping on his fish tank…jeans still on the floor. My daughter brushes by me to go down stairs – still wearing the pink dress she was told to take off. Wifey, checking her ass out in the mirror to see if she has panty lines.

Me – “Macy…get back in your room and change please. Grayson – are you trying to get your fish to help you put your pants on? Come on man – it’s simple…one leg at a time, button, zip – score – you’re all done!”

My daughter falls to the ground screaming and crying. Son – “I FORGOT DADDY sheeeshh..never give me a second to do ANYTHING!!”

My chest puffs out and I start stomping towards my son’s room, “son, you’d better respect me…do you hear me? Don’t talk to me like that ever again!! Now put your pants on now!!” He falls to the ground crying, but somewhere in the crying he manages a, “yes sir.”

I turn feeling as though I’d won one battle. “Macy, get those clothes on now, or I’ll put them on for you and you won’t like that!!” She stands, walks to her room and throws herself on top of the clothes she should be wearing.

7:11 a.m. - I storm in our bedroom pissed. “Fuck!” I mumble under my breath. The wifey is all: “I know, I just don’t understand why it’s got to be so damn hard. Every morning I have to…..” her voice slowly turns into Charlie Brown’s teacher as I start to pull my work clothes out to iron.

Five minutes later, my son walks in our room, STILL in his underpants, holding a picture from his room and says, “Daddy…what was the name of this fish I caught again?”

It took a second for the disbelief to fully hit before I could speak… “Grayson..is this a joke? Seriously, are you kidding me?

Son, with his arms out, eyes big, true confusion on his face, “What daddy? What do you mean?”

Me – “Seriously…are there cameras in here? Are we con Candid Camera? Is that douche gonna jump out holding balloons with my family laughing and tell me it’s all been a joke?”

Son – “DADDY!!! Just tell me what the name of this fish is!”

Me – “FIVE minutes ago I told you for the 4^th time to put your pants on and you’re still in your skibbies!!! What are you doing? Son – you have to focus!!! GO…PUT…YOUR…PANTS….ON….NOW!!!!”

Son…immediately becomes the victim, starts crying, stomps off angrily and screams, “Daddy you’re so mean, I just wanted to know the name of the fish!!!”

This went on for another 10 min. before I turned into the atom bomb, flew myself into each kid’s room, dropped myself from their precious angle-filled skies, and exploded. There was a lot of tear debris, screams could be heard for miles, the cat was in the basement trying to tunnel out of the house, but no lives were lost.

We should be able to fire our children if they don’t perform simple tasks well when asked. Then, you put an ad in the paper, interview new children, and hire the right ones. Then…life would go on blissfully with beautiful songs, rainbows, helpful – well behaved children giggling and bringing you beers….ahhh…if only.

Steve Irwin Took Over My Body

So every day I commute into the city on the train. It’s about a 20 min. ride with about 6 stops along the way. But shhhh…don’t tell wifey, she thinks it’s an hour train ride with 18 stops along the way and that I have to walk up-hill both ways to get to and from the iron beast.

I love the train...I get to listen to music, read, catch-up on work, go through emails, and stare randomly at strangers…a hobby of mine I’ve perfected.

Yesterday I hopped on a late train and was beat. Just before it takes off, I got in the simultaneous double-wammy of shit situations. I’m 6’3” so I take up some room in the seat. Along comes Mr. 6’1” overweight dude who feels like squeezing in next to me. At the exact same time comes this mousey-looking lady who slides in right in front of me with her just purchased, fresh out of the oven, roast beef sandwich loaded the fuck down with onions.

Once my urge snap her neck, bust out a window and throw Big Boy on to the tracks subsided, I kicked into observation mode. The mousey lady plowed through a sandwich like I’ve never seen anyone do. Meanwhile, with her other hand, she’s doing shit in Excel on her laptop that makes The Matrix look like ColecoVision. All of a sudden I see her snap her head to the right and look at a dude across the isle.

I quickly pause my iPod to get the low-down on what’s getting her panties all in a wad and I hear it ….a loud pop… Her head immediately snaps back at him with another “die you son-of-a-bitch chewing gum popper” look. This onion-eating, whole sandwich swallower, Excel goddess hates gum-poppers. I thought that was the oddest fucking thing. And this dude couldn’t give two shits. He had his headphones on and was playing some game on his cell phone and suckin’ on a tallboy Bud Light.

I felt like the Crocodile Hunter reborn. I wanted to take my umbrella like a mic. and have Big Boy take the camera as I crouch behind the seat in the isle and start filming me as I said (*in an awfully shitty Australian accent):

Krikey!! We have an incredible stage being set for what will play out as blood-bath of amazing proportions. Mother Nature’s fury will be unleashed on this suburban commuter train. Just over this seat I’m crouched behind is a healthy Type-A, male-hating, accountant known as Psycho Scary Midget Bitch. Her natural predator is just on the other side of this seat…a scumbag shoe salesman who purposefully leaves his zipper down on sales calls, is known on Twitter as @sexyramone, and has masturbated twice a day since he was 12—the Annoying Sloth Bastard. His mating call is the popping of gum, which agitates the Psycho Scary Midget Bitch. In a mere seconds…he’s going to give what will sure to be his last mating call as the Psycho Scary Midget Bitch is going to spring from her habitat, slice him from groin to chin before he……..

Just then my train stopped and I had to get off. I was dying to know how it ended….just as much as I was dying to escape the horror of onions, gum popping, sneezing, Big Boy, cell phone screamers, and a shit-ton of other nightmares loading that train down. But I can tell you one thing.... she sure as shit knew Excel.

This Past Month I Did Some Shit

Wifey got back yesterday after 5 days of being by her family’s side to put her cousin to rest. The next day her phone lit-up with a jobby job offer that seemed too good to be true. Five days a week – 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. – the same time the kids are in school so no childcare required. At least not till summer time.

Her paycheck won’t be “extra money” by any stretch. But I still can’t help but think of how I’m going to use the money to get my half-sleeve tattoo finished, or to get the roof replaced, or to dangle in front of my kids’ faces only to quickly snap it away as they reach for it, or to….wait…what honey?!!….yes dear…. Ummm…or to pay bills.

This past month seems to have been about change. The wifey of course experiencing the largest. Me having my daily routine thrown off for a couple weeks – which as any Type-A person knows, is like having your security blanky burned right before your eyes. A change in my waist size from not being able to work out for many days. And, now a new routine with the wife going back to work. On the horizon – hopefully one more large change….

This past month I got a massive dose of stay-at-home mommy life…make that, single stay at home mommy life. We laughed, we all cried, at times I was tied up and beaten with various stuffed animals, occasionally I was proud, yesterday I repeated myself 379 times, on Monday my daughter took a massive poop while the boy tried to wait patiently cause he had to pee, Sunday we bought a cap gun and a Lil Pet Shop birdie, Tuesday I scooped 4 days worth of cat shit, Friday my son said “daddy….you’re a weird man.”

This past month I truly loved spending the time I did with the little bastards and enjoyed experiencing the parts of their days that I miss when I’m at work. But I was glad to get back to my somewhat normal day-to-day life. With enough time, alcohol, and therapy…I’ll forget how challenging it is and look forward to doing it again.

This past month was the first full month of my blog and I gotta say I’m kind of digging it. Who the fuck knows where it’ll go…but it’s definitely providing me with a killer outlet for my ramblings…..

My Chest is All Swollen

Swollen from my first experience as a proud dad after watching my son win something. Not like a soccer game, or a video game…but a bike race.

For the past couple weeks the boy’s been coming home blabbing about some bike race at the zoo nearby. My floppy ears perked up a bit, given that we’ve put some serious miles on his bike this summer. I was all: “that’s cool, dude. We should do it and see how you do!”

It was somewhat on my radar, but nowhere near like it was on his.

Come Sunday, he woke up pretty early. He climbed in bed and said, “daddy, I couldn’t stop dreaming about the bike race and buying a cap gun.” Oh…I forgot to mention, I promised him I’d buy him a cap gun the day before, because he broke a catapult gun a friend had given him that day.

I’m getting sidetracked here, but bare with me… I fucking hate Wal-Mart. I don’t mean hate like I don’t like it. I mean hate like I want some science experiment to go completely wrong so that a huge giraffe is born and goes on a tirade obsessing over eating Wal-Marts across the country and when he’s done he takes a big steamy poop on the empty shell of a building encircling it with signs that read… “I shit on you Wal-Mart. I shit, and spit on you Wal-Mart” (read in a bad French accent). I hate it like that. But…we went anyway because I was confident it was the redneckiest store around that I was confident would have cap guns.

Later that day it was time for the race. My little guy has on his kaki shorts, a red polo shirt, and green checkerboard slip-on Vans. I was all: “Umm..you sure you wanna wear that for the bike race?”

And he was all: “yeah….why? Should I tuck my shirt in?”

We get to the zoo and we’re waiting in line….a long line. He’s not saying a word, he’s just looking around. I finally said, “are you OK dude?”

And he said, “daddy, I’m nervous.”

“It’s cool if you wanna bail and just watch the race.”

“No way…I’m gonna win this thing!!!” he yelled.

The race track was about 1/3 of a mile around a huge fountain and they raced in groups – preschoolers, 1^st and 2^nd graders, etc… So he was all jacked up ready to bike in the 1^st and 2^nd graders boy division. Then - they called all the 1^st and 2^nd grader boys and girls to the line. That’s when we got a look at which kids were going to race against him. We both knew…he was gonna get his ass drug.

The girls did their race, then it was time for the boys. I said, “Gray…just have fun man. This is so cool – enjoy it! My best advice, stay close to the inside of the loop, look straight ahead, and just go.”

“These are some big boys daddy. I don’t think I can beat them.”

I slapped him on top of the helmet and said, “just ride hard and have fun, man.”

So 20+ 1^st and 2^nd graders line up and he’s looking kinda little. The gun went off and my dude stood up on his pedals and never looked back.

(Son is third from the right in the red Polo shirt)

(From the start he takes the lead)

From the beginning he led and never gave it up. I was going ballistic screaming like a little bitch and was probably being videoed and will soon be on Digg.com as the over-energetic asshole dad who’s kid didn’t get picked last at dodgeball…..but I didn’t care. I ran up to him, with his sister dragging behind, and said – “You won man!!!”

And he said, “I did?”

“Ahh yeah…there was no one in front of you the whole race!!!”

He was sooo freakin’ happy and I thought my chest would explode.

(My little dude crossing the finish line)

That was an amazing experience. I knew he was a strong biker and focused on the event. But I have to say I had doubt. I thought those kids were going to make a meal out of him. On his own…he just went balls to the wall and won.

As a kid I played soccer and I remember getting screamed at many a car ride home by my father because I wasn’t giving it my all. Because I wasn’t paying attention constantly and trying to become a pro athlete at it. Eventually he’d say he wasn’t going to waste his time watching me if I wasn’t going to try…and he came to fewer games.

My little shit did me proud. I feel bad I doubted him, but I just didn’t want to be pushing him too hard. And I’m glad I didn’t because for him and me, it just made his win that much sweeter.