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Why is Daddy Crying?

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Entries in fuck trophies (2)


One Year And Counting!

I’m still blown away by the fact that today is my blog’s first birthday.

To you…well, you’re probably twirling your finger in the air and rolling your eyes. At least my wife is.

Regardless, for me it’s a big deal.

I started this space of my ramblings in an effort to get my fingers pounding on the keyboard some more and to tap back into one of my absolute loves…..writing.

Pairing that up with my other devoted love – my family – seemed a win/win.

The only thing left was a good name. So, I did what any natural artist does and sucked back a few too many beers and chased them down with glasses of wine and walla!!!! The name Why Is Daddy Crying? was born.

Then I just sat back, lived my life and let the rest flow through the finger tips in the hopes just maybe a few of you kids would care enough to read.

The response I’ve gotten has been overwhelming at best. My readership is unreal to me. The comments I get make my day. The emails I randomly get from strangers humbles me. And the explosion of my Twitter and Facebook followers is daunting.

THANKS! Thanks for reading, making me laugh, sharing your stories, and for revealing the fact that it truly does take a village to raise a child. Even if that child is me.

But an anniversary wouldn’t be a true anniversary if I didn’t reflect. So…here are my top 10 favorite blog posts of mine over the past year. I really hope you’ll take a couple minutes and read and pass along to others who might enjoy them.

My top 10 favorite blog posts over the past year:

1) Because of this post alone, I’m notorious for hating the damn Snuggie. And I followed it up with this lovely post about a Snuggie family gone wrong.

2) The BP oil spill got me angry, but also had me wondering if I could offer any help. So, I lent a hand by creating this list of the top 10 things BP should shove up its leaky oil pipe.

3) Sometimes I like to give some handy advice. So, I created a commercial much like the drug commercials on TV so that I could inform parents how they know they’re experiencing children.

4) I would totally and utterly suck as a terrorist and here are the reasons why. This one’s complete with a horrifying picture.

5) I have had many discussions with wife over the past year. On this particular day we discuss pointy bras.

6) I’ve gotten to meet, interact with, and fight with some of the greatest people. Take in this epic online one-liner battle with Twitter's @ieatmykidzsnack:

7) One of the most humbling moments of my writing days was when JC Little of Little Animation reached out and did this animated short based on my blog. Check it out!

8) Here’s a quick jaunt down memory lane as I remember the days I’ve spent with my weiner.

9) And then for a little bit I got serious. This post marks the beginnings of one of the lowest points in my life where I lost my job.

10) And last, here’s a post where I show some family love to my brother by revealing how much I love that he affectionately calls his children “fuck trophies.”

I’m missing oh so much more, but these are some of my favorites.

Thanks for the ride so far. I hope everyone keeps reading and sharing the love!



I Have Two Fuck Trophies!

My brother (@IbeeNORM on Twitter) lovingly and occasionally refers to his children as “fuck-trophies.”

Now, he only does it in front of the right audience, and never in front of the kids—just making sure that’s out there so no angry parent-mobs form and go after him. But the first time I heard it, I laughed like hell while jotting it down on a little pad so I could whip the phrase out later as if I’d sat in my thinking chair late one night, sporting my pimped-out smoking jacket, pondering new and hilarious things.

But then later it hit me. My children really should be clad in gold, thrown on a pedestal, forever frozen in some award-winning pose as tribute to the wifey and me getting it on. Why? Because they truly are representative of a time when the wifey and I rocked the house of its foundation.

I’ll never forget our decision to start having kids. It was one of those spoken, but kind-of not-so-spoken decisions. And we started having unprotected sex. And a lot of it! And everyone around me knew something was different because I had perm-a-grin on my warped head.

Even people who didn’t know me were all, “oh yeah, that dude’s getting laid daily, if not hourly.”

Leaving Virginia after work one day to drive to North Carolina to be with family for Christmas, I joked to the wifey, “We should totally knock boots before we hit the road.”

Then, a loud boxing ring bell rang, clothes flew in the air, and it was on! I’m pretty confident I just laid there with deer-in-the-headlights look the whole time.

Then….she became pregnant. And that’s when that jagoff sex bouncer showed back up to guard the wifey’s sex-making area. He was all, “ummm….are you on the list to get in here tonight buddy?”

“Uhhh..yeah, I’m attached to the husband here. He should be at the TOP of the list.”

“Yeah…there’s no one on this list. Go on…go hit the shower pal. Get outta here.”

Pregnant with our first kid, the wifey went through a paranoia stage thinking the act of sex might hurt the fetus. And she was tired all the time. And sometimes sick. And I was left, still naked, raring to go, with perm-a-grin on my face, standing in the bedroom waiting.

And waiting……

Then it hit me—she totally used the hell out of me! And it was awesome!! But now that I’d tasted the sweet nectar of constant sex, it was like I was a teenager who’d just learned how to jerk-off again! I was humping trees, the leg of the cat, the mail box, apple pies… was sad.

But just like everything related to children—from pregnancy through every stage of their lives—I was being prepared for the next phase. And for our sex life, the next phase was the dreaded six-week post birth “Sex Shut Down Phase.” Wifey originally told me doctors said she couldn’t have sex for the first two years after birth, but Google set that shit straight.

So now, when I’m sitting on the back porch, relaxing, drinking a beer and watching my little fuck trophies run around, a smile creeps across my face as a think back to the time when sex was plentiful. When I could ask the wifey if she wanted to “drop the donkey” and she’d actually say “yes” rather than slap me. When I’d climb in the sex swing, wait for her to come home, and she was actually appreciative when she saw me strapped in. And, when I’d wake up to her on top of me and she’d say, “sshhhh….don’t even speak, look at me, or move. Just lay there,” and then she’d put the pillow back over my head.

Those were the days.....