The Wife, Anderson Cooper & Egypt

To say the wife loves Anderson Cooper is to say that I think Jennifer Aniston ranks as “eh” on a scale of “I just threw up in my mouth” to “I’d murder someone just to have her look at me!”

I mean, I can see her thinking he’s good looking… what with the perfect hair, skin, and what-not.

Just the other day a friend revealed to her that he’s gay. Her response, “that’s cool. I’d still be there for him.”

My response, “hang in there kiddo, you never know. You could lay the magic touch that turns him straight. But if you do…deal is…the dog, hamster, cat, and fish go with you!!”

Regardless, she’s a fan.

So much so that my dear friend @ieatmykidzsnack on Twitter pulled some heroic strings and got a personalized, signed autographed picture of Mr. Cooper as a Christmas present to the wife.

But I guess the part I love the most is that she doesn’t obsessively watch thousands of hours of his broadcast. Which, in my phenomenal inspector/FBI training abilities, tells me she’s just in it for the looks.

So, apparently Egypt has been kicking the living shit out of Anderson Cooper lately.

This past Wednesday pro-Egyptian government campers threw 10 fist blows at my man’s head. Yesterday, they stepped it up a notch and went after him in his “news van.”

As a side note…if he was in a Hummer…I would have even joined the group trying to attack him. But that’s a whole other blog post.

Knowing my wife tends to lean significantly towards the “I don’t read the news too much but love me some Hoarders episodes,” I filled her in on her boyfriend’s Egyptian experiences by treating it as though I was having to tell her the cat is dead.

I walked down to her basement work-from-home office, embraced her to the point to where she was in pain and wanted me to “just go away!!!”

I said, “Shnookums (cause she loves it when I call her that) I need you to sit down for a sec. I…..I have to tell you something.”

Wife: “Why are you drinking a beer at 9:18 a.m.?”

Me: “Because I’ve been traumatized on your behalf and needed something to help me get through this.”

Wife: “Oh my god what is it?”

Me: “Anderson Cooper got his ass kicked in Egypt…twice.”

Wife: “Is he alive? Is he hurt?”

Me: “He’s still reporting and I can’t see a damn scratch on that guy…I seriously think he’s a robot!!”

Wife: “Oh thank God.”

Me: “You mean Oh thank baby Jesus?”

Wife: “Maybe you should think about visiting Egypt.”

She clearly took it well.

Later that night I swear I walked in on her talking to her signed Anderson Cooper picture. But being the delightful husband I am, I just gave her a knowingly smile, patted her on the head (cause she loves that) and walked out of the room to give her more time with her love.



I'm Done With You Snuggie!!

At some point in my social media madness I became as synonymous with Snuggies as Sarah Palin has with shotguns, seeing Russia from her backyard, and thinking North Korea is our ally.

Could it be my original post about sex and the Snuggie?

Could it be my take on the Great American Snuggie Family?

Could it be that I just brought this Snuggie-shit-storm on myself?

Quite simply…yes is the answer to all the above.

Fact: At least once every three days I get a tweet, Facebook message, or text from a friend about a new Snuggie that’s come out.

It’s like I’ve become the Woodward and Bernstein of Snuggies. Apparently you’re all my “deepthroats” leaving it up to me to blast the hell out of the underground sadistic Snuggie world.

And I love it!! It’s been awesome!

However, it’s become blatantly apparent how the marketing gurus of the world jam just about anything down our throats and make us buy it.

If Justin Beaver’s skill-less singing triumphs aren’t enough to reveal how marketing sadly dominates our interests, then by Baby Jesus Snuggies definitely do.

It wasn’t until my dear friend Stacey (@ieatmykidzsnack on Twitter) sent me a Tweet of a Santa Snuggie that it hit me…I’m experiencing a mild, diluted version of what child actors must experience.

How many times did Gary Coleman get asked by a nervous elevator-rider to just say “what you talkin’ about Willis?!”

How many times did Macaulay Culkin get aftershave thrown on him in the hopes he’d throw his un-chapped palms against his cheeks and reveal his young, innocent “O-Face?”

The numbers must be obscene.

Am I even in same realm as a child actor? Hell no.

Did I think it was an awesome opportunity to use “O-Face” in a blog post? Yes.

But, it’s time for me to part with the Snuggie.

I’m forever grateful for every email, text, Tweet, Facebook post, etc…. that includes Snuggie insanity.

But I’ve made a grown-ass decision to try and leave it all behind. And, like most child actors…I’m doing it by nudity.

I’m grabbing my long coveted “Pants Optional Friday” by the balls and making it a life-style.

Clothes & Snuggies optional baby!!!

I mean come on! The Snuggie Sutra is just a cumbersome reminder of how painful it was to “get it on” under pegged jeans, long sweaters, and Madonna bracelets back in the day.

Who in the hell wants fake fibers creeping into private areas and getting absorbent at the wrong time? We’re all adults now, right?!

So let’s drop trow, throw those tops on a lamp shade and be done with it. It’s Clothes & Snuggies Optional Lifestyle!

Maybe it’s called the “Nudie?” Maybe it’s called the “What Honey? Yeah I Showered Today, I Swear.” Or maybe it’s called the “No I’m Not Sitting On The Remote, I’m Pretty Sure I’d Know!!”

Whatever it is, it’s not a blanket covering our holy given goods, instead, its letting them flaunt, breathe and hang.

So join the club my fellow campers. Let’s go Clothes & Snuggies Optional this holiday season and give the family something to REALLY talk about.

This blog post is not sanctioned by the people at Snuggie. Snuggie is a trademark carried by the Dudes Owning Universal Class H Eveningware (DOUCHE). Snuggies does not believe individuals should copulate, grope, see, touch, imagine, feel, dream, remember, or even brush up against anything that should resemble human skin. Snuggies should only be worn by WhyIsDaddyCrying’s daughter in the hopes it will keep all participants of the male gender from her doorstep. Any man and/or woman seen at Why Is Daddy Crying’s daughter’s doorstep with the desire to copulate, discuss copulation, or any other inappropriate action should be warned a gun is currently aimed at your “feel good” areas. If you are with the local law enforcement agency or FBI please note that last sentence was only a joke. No it wasn’t. Yes it was.

The Wifey & I Have a Talk

Wifey: “I did this for an entire freakin’ summer you douche!”

Me: “I don’t know how in the hell you pulled this off. Were you on crack the whole time or what? I mean, I’m two minutes from jumping off a bridge.”

Wifey: “That’s why men could NEVER birth children.”

Me: “Fuck yeah we couldn’t!!! The world as we know it wouldn’t exist. Humans would have died out centuries ago. We wouldn’t be having this conversation cause I’d be a tiny worthless sperm cell sitting in front of the egg all: “screw that dude, you go ahead…I’m good. I’ll just take pictures of you being all bad-ass and put it on your Facebook page!”

Wifey: “Speaking of Facebook, you seriously need to be more careful about what you put on there. People there know who you are. It’s not Twitter jackass.”

Me: “Say that shit on Twitter…people will cut you woman.”

Wifey: “If Grayson ever calls me ‘woman’ cause he over-hears you saying that to me I swear you’ll need to wear a cup around me for a year.”

Me: “Look – you’re getting off the point. Three days!! Three day’s I’ve taken the kids sledding. And today I added a third child. And there was crying…anger…crying…ambulances…more crying. But it’s only been three days. How the hell did you do it for three months?”

Wifey: “Seriously – snow and ice and you want a medal?”

Me: “And when I got home I made snacks. The children loved the peanut buttery snacks. And TV was on. And all was good. Serenity rained down upon the land. And then Grayson came down stairs crying like a baby cause your freakin’ “mini-me” daughter socked him in the eye for trying to teach her how to say “the!” The simplest word on the planet – “the!!!” Well, next to “a.”

Wifey: “She hit him in the eye? What did you do?!”

Me: “I Googled ‘daughter hits brother in eye’ and a ton of videos came up. And they were so awesome. So then I Skyped my brother to show him some of these videos so I could see his reaction. It was hilarious. Actually – get the lap-top you HAVE to see this one...”

Wifey: “You seriously need medication you ADD bastard! What’s wrong with you?”

Me: “Oh, no…it’s cool. The kids made up and were making art projects by the time I got off Skype! In fact, they made you a Valentines card!”

Wifey: “For the record – when I leave in the morning for work…I leave scared for my children’s lives!”

Me: “You’re taking me all wrong. I just wanted to say that I appreciate everything you did as a stay-at-home-mom for a year. I’ve been doing it for not even two weeks and I hurt. I hurt everywhere. And I appreciate you.”

Wifey: “No!”

Me: “No what?”

Wifey: “No. No we cannot have sex tonight. I still have to write like 30 thank you notes from Christmas.”

Me: “Damn you and your ninja mind-tricks. How in the hell did you know?!”

Wifey: “You’re like the cat, dumb-ass. You only come around all happy and caring and stuff when you want to be fed. In your case, when you want some action. Back off dude!”

Me: “No, seriously. I appre-ci-ate you!!!”

Wifey: “It….ain’t….happ-en-ing!!!”

Me: “I took your children to see the new Alvin and the Chipmunks movie woman! Baby Jesus…that should get me sex for 6 weeks straight!”

Wifey: “’Your children?’ Really…you just dropped the ‘your’ word in talking about ‘our’ children? And also – idiot-boy - I was there, too! We shared the pain together!”

Me: “Holy shit you saw that movie too?! I swear to god…if I ever see anything as awful as that again…I told you I appreciate you right?”

Wife: “You seriously scare me. And, No!!!”

Me: “Fine! The appreciative train has left the station. You’re gonna have to work for it now!”

Wifey: “Damn. That sucks. And you said we weren’t doing Christmas gifts this year. Hey – can you toss me that pillow before you leave the room? That’d be great!”