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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.



It's A Brand New Year!

Well…I’m back after a two-week hiatus.

The fam and I took a little trip to North Carolina to recharge, enjoy some family and friends during the holidays, and to ditch the kids for multi-night excursions of gallivanting, drinking, thumb-wrestling, and graffiti by moon-light.

I thought about boring you with a play-by-play of our 12.5-hour trip from Chicago to North Carolina with a young nipper in the back who decided to grace us with the puke bug three hours into the trip.

But, I’m just not talented enough to pull off a puke story that doesn’t involve Bobcat Goldthwait, a tiger, a cage-match with two moles, and the Sanford and Son intro song as background music.

So, instead… I’m going to do what we all must do this time every year and toss out a snippet from the much longer version of…

My New Year’s Resolutions

I only ran just over 500 miles last year. The lowest mileage I’ve had since Brett Farve first realized he could pic text the contents of his jockstrap to sideline hotties. This year…I WILL break 1,000 miles by December 31.

I’m going to finally stop giving a fuck what other people think!! I mean…if…if it’s cool with you? If not, I could always postpone it another year or so, or something like that. I don’t know. Hey, I just found $5 on the ground. Want it?!!

When I finally shave my beard I will keep a handlebar mustache for longer than two hours!

To finally get my half-sleeve tattoo finished…without going bankrupt.

I will not sleep, eat, or read to my children until I make it to the Presidential debate, earn the right to hold a mic, and ask the question: “Mr. President. You have made it clear in previous campaigns for your current position that you are opposed to the war in Iraq. You worked hard to repeal the “don’t ask don’t tell” military policy, and are working closely with other UN constituents to keep North Korea at bay despite Sarah Palin’s belief they are our ally. So I ask you…will you vehemently support the growing Pants Optional Friday movement?!!”

To go to bed each night having my kids tell me they love me…unsolicited.

This year I will support the grape farmers! I will go above and beyond the call of duty to make sure grape farmers far and wide who just so happen to provide the wine industry its much needed ingredient are given their due during hard times!

To tell my wife one more time than necessary every day that I love her.

That’s the short short version. The longer version is anonymously hand written on a paper that’s been mailed to an unsuspecting gentleman in Arizona I’ve never met.

It’s my annual ritual, it works for me and I’m pretty sure once the guy finishes reading them he’s going to pour a stiff drink and thank his maker he’s not me.

Happy New Year world! Make this one count.



To My Wife On Our Anniversary


Who’d have thought?

I still remember each laugh.

I still remember each tear…and why.

On the pier we laid, vulnerable, ignorant, surrounded by nature and the love we now raise our children in.

I knew then what I know now,

Your strength is envious.


Our lives are far from perfect.

Our beliefs stray from the norm.

Our love has been more than challenged.

You’re undying kindness and devotion,

Is humbling and heart-warming.

The mornings we laid dreaming of years from now,

In the place we’ll call home,

Returning back to nature,


The two of us.

The journey getting there will be ours, remarkable, painful, revealing…

You are my hero.

You are my best friend.

You are my children’s mother.

You are my wife.

You are…everything I wish I was…


Straddling the Line

It’s been just over a week since I lost my job.

I’ve woken up in the morning, helped get the kids ready for school and out the door. I’ve written blog posts. I’ve cranked-up my obsession with working out to a level to where I’m sure I’ll get injured soon.

I’ve been pissed as shit. I’ve been depressed. I’ve spent my time feeling helpless, letting distractions rule me, and occasionally fed-off bursts of incredible support and energy.

Yeah…right now, I feel like a victim and I’m not scared to say that. But it’s been nine days…and now I straddle that line.

On one side I can continue to slip…turn a blind-eye, wake up months from now with still nothing.

On the other, I can move on, flip my chin to what’s left behind, all while leaving small motivational bits and stories in my wake.

The way my son looks at me after everything he does makes me feel like a rock star. The way my daughter snuggles closer to me in the mornings when I crawl into bed with her to wake her makes my heart break. My family is my motivation. But pride, as a man, is my downfall. And my pride’s just been buried six-feet down and a tombstone reading “you were fired” has been slapped down forever marking my time on this orbiting rock.

But I won’t dwell. I won’t be gotten the best of.

I’ll never forget laying in bed with my wife in college, then after we first moved in, then after we had kids….and a million other times where I’ve said…. “I’m gonna make $1 million before I turn 30.” I’m 34 now.

But with time comes lessons, some learned harder than others. Risks – bring on a whole new meaning. Love – we could all write books about love. Family – it’s what defines you, and later, you find the pen in your hand with a wife and children eagerly looking at you to begin writing their chapters. Jobs – they’re the essential component in the glue holding everything together but it DOES NOT make you the person you are.

The loss of my job does not define me. It’s humbled me. It’s made stop dead. It’s made the musical soundtrack of my life adjust yet one more time. It’s made my vision of life, family, love, profession….change…..again.

When I was a kid I told myself I’d never be like my father. When I was 10, I told my brother the same. When I was a teenager, I told my future wife the same tale. When I was in college I wrote endlessly about it. When my first born entered our lives I journaled this continued promise vowing this transformation would never happen.

My current situation has me closer to being my father than I could have ever imagined I’d experience.

So I’m putting the gloves back on. The mouthpiece is back in. And I just glanced over my shoulder to see if my family showed up for their front row seats. And I can see them all lined up, leaning forward, looking at each other for reassurance, but throwing fake confidence my way. And I’m loving it…cause I’m about to cross back the fuck over and move on..far….far away from that dividing line…and fulfill a promise made long ago….to more than provide…but BE someone.

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