The Movie!


Why is Daddy Crying?

Click here to view the full size version at YouTube>



Meet the Insanity


The Wife



Get Updates!

Email Goodness
* indicates required

Blogs I Dig
Previous Ramblings
Search It

Entries in Cold War Kids (2)


Babies Come Out Of Girl's Butts

Last night the wife and I are calmly listening to Cold War Kids and getting pumped to go see them Friday night when all of a sudden our six-year-old, long-haired, hippie daughter comes tearing-ass through the room screaming “babies come out of girl’s butts!! Babies come out of girl’s butts!!” and giggling while holding her bum bum like she’s got a full diaper.

The show Cake Boss is a favorite in this household. And, apparently the “Cake Boss’s” wife just birthed their fourth child.

And, they showed the PG version of this woman spitting out a baby while my wife and I were being neglectful parents in the other room.

It wasn’t until the town-crier move the daughter pulled by running through the house announcing the apparent mass production of ass-babies that we realized we’d allowed something bad to happen.

While I was acting like I smelled smoke in the basement, the wife quickly screamed “OK, bedtime, let’s brush teeth!”

And it was over.

Thirty minutes later when the house was silent and our shoulders slowly started relax and drop from the afternoon parental pressures, the wife and I locked eyes.

It was for only a few seconds…mainly because the wife knows if she looks at me for more than five seconds I’ll start ripping my clothes off and drooling.

But this look was different.

It was the look of knowing the time to have “The Talk” was becoming closer and closer each year.

Just over a month ago, the we had creatively avoided questions from the little bastards about “how the seed gets in mommy’s belly?” Here’s more detail on that one.

The daughter’s six and the boy is eight.

We hear the sex-talk clock ticking loudly in the other room.

The only thing preventing us from talking to the boy in the next year or two is the fact that we know he can’t keep his damn mouth shut.

He’ll completely botch the translation of how babies are made and have half our city’s parents knocking on our doors with baseball bats and other creatively deadly blunt objects wanting to know “why my son thinks jack-o-lanterns shoot from his pecker?”

The wife and I will eventually have “The Talk,” mainly because we’d rather be the ones opening that dialogue with our children than the schools.

And by “we” I really mean my mother-in-law.

The wife and I have full intentions of waiting until my mother-in-law visits, tell the kids “grandma wants to talk to you about sex and how babies are made,” and then running like hell to the nearest bar for the next 24 hours.

If you’re reading this my sweet, awesome mother-in-law…I was kidding.

I love you and would never do anything like that to you.

See you in a couple weeks! 



It's All About the Music

Music has always played a huge part of my life.

I’ve always been jealous of people who could just instantaneously look back at life and remember specific moments.

My life has been defined by music. Every moment I store in my memory could not be recalled if it weren’t tied to a specific song. I could go years without hearing one song—then it plays, and I’m eight years old again, in a horrific blue van, with my mother and brother, on my way to swim practice, and I’m watching the world pass by outside, and all I can think about is I hope my dad is there to see me.

And now, one minute, I’ll be laughing with the family in the car, while compulsively hitting the “seek” button on the radio and on comes Aerosmith, “Angel,” and my entire body tingles remembering how that was the wifey and our “song” back in the day.

Or Violent Femmes “Blister in the Sun” will hit and I’ll instantly be 17 and laughing, laying in the wifey’s trampoline out-back of her mom’s house, teaching her the lyrics while chuckling inside knowing it’s a song about masturbation.

I’ll always remember how fucking rad I thought my Uncle was when he gave me Iron Maiden “Piece of Mind” for Christmas one year.

The walls in my room during my high school days were covered in 60s & 70s posters. Janis Joplin, The Beatles, The Who, Cat Stevens, and Bob Dylan.

When I was 11, our family had driven to New York City to be with my father’s family. My cousin, a few years older, handed me his Walkman. I’m pretty sure my ears came at least five times that day as I was introduced to Led Zeppelin for the very first time of my life. That night my god-father died and we drove from New York to South Carolina non-stop, while I listened to Led Zeppelin I, II, III, & IV which my cousin gave me cause he felt bad we were on our way to bury my mother’s brother.

The very first CD I owned was the double album Led Zeppelin “Song Remains the Same Live.” John Bonham will always, in my mind, go down in history as the best drummer ever.

The introduction of Led Zeppelin was an incredible breakthrough musically for me. One I’ll never forget. And, the only thing comparable, was in 1992. I’ll never forget, sitting at the kitchen table alone, watching MTV (back when they fucking played music) and Pearl Jam “Alive” came on. The spoon fell from my hand. I was mesmerized. I later said to my good friend at the time “it’s the sound I’ve been dying to hear!” I wrote “Pearl Jam Ten” on a sheet of paper after watching the video, and owned the cassette by the end of the day.

Pearl Jam is Pearl Jam these days, but for me…it knocked down the wall to my musical boundaries and I never looked back. I even grew my hair out to live the part!

I obsess over lyrics. I can hear the drum line of every song and see it like Rain Man counting tooth picks. I remember:

The girl I dreamt about in middle school finally noticed me and we started dating. And Phil Collins “Groovy Kind of Love” was our song.

I got laid off from my job and I blared Rage Against the Machine “Wake Up” on my headphones and walked a straight line down the Chicago sidewalk daring anyone to bump my arm, look at me wrong, or even smile.

On the way home to grab some stuff from our house after our son was born, I’ll never forget playing John Lennon “Beautiful Boy,” despite the fact I blame Yoko for everything evil on this planet.

The Beatles “Don’t Let Me Down”Cold War Kids “We Used To Vacation”Iron & Wine “Trapeze Swinger”Dave Matthews Band “Say Goodbye”Bare Naked Ladies “Blame It On Me”Train “Drops of Jupiter”Temple of the Dog “Hunger Strike”Van Morrison “And It Stoned Me” (which this link is to the Great Jerry Garcia, because I could find a damn original Van Morrison version and who better to cover than Jerry!)

I could do this for hours.

I play music as much as I can for the kids. I name the bands. I try to explain the lyrics. I pound out the drum line on my steering wheel, knee, couch….in the hopes they get an understanding. I play my guitar, I long to own a piano again, and the boy and I are nagging the wifey to let us own a drum kit.

For me – the easiest answer to, “so tell me about yourself,” will always be to hand that person a CD and slowly walk out.