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.

She's a Winner!!!

We have a winner to my contest launched last week which asked readers to answer the question “why is daddy crying?” This contest was motivated by the new 3-minute animated short based on this blog, created by JC Little with Little Animation. If you haven’t seen it – check it out here.

Our world class judges from Twitter: @IEatMyKidzSnack, @Tessasdad, and @nuckingfutsmama worked hard to pick our winner, pouring over 30 submissions from around the globe.

And the winner is!!!! Cortney Allen, or (@Ulesss on Twitter.)

Her winning response:

“Daddy isn't crying because he is frustrated. Or overworked. Or undersexed. Not because he has to wipe noses and wipe asses. Not because he got kicked in the nuts accidentally by a tantrum throwing kid. Not because the messes and arguments never end, and the quiet time is all too little. He isn't crying about the amount of sleep he gets, or doesn't get. And he is definitely not crying because he just can't get the last word in "I fantasize" battles, no matter how hard he tries.

He IS crying because the little joys of being a Dad sometimes overwhelm the manly exterior, and a sincere "you're the best, Daddy" is too much to take. He's crying at the wealth of pride he feels when one of the little fuckers learns a life lesson, gets an awesome grade, or crosses the finish line. He's crying because he and the toddler have the same dancing skills, or hold a pencil the same way, or have the same smile. He's crying because of the indescribable joy of having kids.

At least that's why the Daddy in our house is crying. And that's precisely the reason Daddy SHOULD be crying.”

And now…let’s get to know Ms. Allen with a quick Q&A!

In 140 characters or less, describe yourself to us!

I am first and foremost, a BIG nerd. A lover of music, art, debate and food. Especially food. My kids are my world, and I love meeting people.

Have you or have you not ever considered being a glove model, and why?

As a surgical tech., I modeled many medical gloves. But unless there is a short and stubby finger glove niche, I'm out of luck.

So why the Twitter name @Uless

Haha, great question. Let us rewind to December of 1983. My parents were so overjoyed at the birth of their baby girl, that they didn't notice they spelled my name Cortney, not Courtney, on the birth certificate form. Well, either that or they were just being mean. At my last job, there was a Courtney working there already. It became confusing in the OR one day, so one of the anesthesiologists decided that because I had no U in my name, he would refer to me as "uless". It kind of stuck. 

Yesterday when I was all alone I had a hankering for some potato chips. So, I busted out a small bag of potato skins and freakin’ plowed through them. They were sooo freakin’ good. Especially with the 24 oz beer I enjoyed with it. Oh…and of course, I had no pants on.

Not sure how to respond to the potato skin story, other than I had a very similar experience with a bag of Oreos at 2 am last Friday night. 

When your first born finished entering the world, what was your first thought/words?

Honestly? I would love to say that my first thought was how much I instantly fell in love with my baby, or something else sentimental. That would be a close second. I think my first real thought was, holy crap, that was way harder than I thought it would be. Someone get me some drugs!

Name one thing you’d shove up BP’s leaky oil pipe to shut it the hell down?

I knew the answer to this instantly. If we could shove Glenn Beck in the leaky oil pipe, we could not only rid the Gulf of the oil pollution, but the world of a lot of noise pollution as well!

And what does this young rock star win? She wins a hand-crafted, hand-picked, amazingly phenomenal care package created by JC Little of Little Animation and myself. And, I promise to send some of my dirty underwear.

What’s in the “phenomenal” care package?

• Little Animation’s children’s animation 2 DVD’s “Kid Stories International” & “Little Earth Charter” found at www.littleanimation.com/shop
• Gift certificate to Toys R Us
• A “Planet Earth” baby onsie – super comfort, 100% cotton jersey knit from Little Animation’s www.cafepress.com/littleanimation shop.  
• Picture of me when I was 20 wearing no shirt and holding three Amber Jack I caught on a deep-sea fishing trip.
• An opportunity to exclusively babysit my kids every weekend for an entire year
• Dick’s Sporting Goods gift certificate
• Dot & Lil ( @DotandLil on Twitter) limited edition Spring & Summer 2010 bath set seen here:



The Great American Snuggie Family

I hate the Snuggie. I hate it more than anyone could hate anything. Wanna know why? Read an old post I knocked out a while back about how the Snuggie is nothing but a glorified cock-block.

But for some reason I’ve been attached to the Snuggie on Twitter. At least once every couple of days I’ll get a picture of one sent to me by one of my kick-ass kids on Twitter.

But while Snuggies have impacted my life and made me contemplate arson as a means to which I could rid them from this planet…they’ve also created a life of their own. They’ve grown out of control becoming Slankets, Sham Wow Snuggies, and more.

Regardless, I still find myself wondering, what happened to the original Snuggie family. You know—the one you saw in all the ads.

So I tossed on my super ninja spy gear and dug into their history. And…here’s what I found:

It all started with the perfect family. The dad, hot mom, and two perfect, adoring kids and their Snuggies.

Then they boy wanted a dog.

So then the girl wanted horses.

The mom had two older twin sisters who lived their lives as “Cougars” hunting men and trying too hard to look sexy.

And of course there was the creepy uncle.

Over time the kids grew up. The boy went through a bit of a gangsta phase.

The girl…well, she got a little slutty.

She then had a life-altering experience and felt love for the first time. She panicked and became a recluse for a short period of time.

And when she came out of it, she decided to eliminate sex from their relationship for a solid year to make sure he truly loved her.

Meanwhile, the boy met a bad group of people and ended up joining a Snuggie cult.

A year later, the girl married her boyfriend and they settled down and quickly spat a little nipper out.

Although she always described it as “watching an alien tear out of me.”

But regardless she enjoyed motherhood. She enjoyed it so much she decided to crank out seven more rug rats.

And then life became too much, and she slipped back into old bad habits.

She even sampled hanging out in her brother’s cult for a bit.

Then she got pregnant again. And, for obvious reasons, after the baby was born her husband wanted a divorce.

In the end, the son got kicked out of the cult and he spent his life rebelling against the Snuggie.

The daughter’s eight kids traveled the world became well adjusted Snuggie lovers.

The original Snuggie parents got older, larger, and obsessed with Wal-Mart.

The illegitimate kid became President of the United States.

And the girl…she regrouped again, went back to college, traveled the world, but

eventually became a hoarder and died buried under her own filth.

THE END

Focus Danielson

At what point during my boy’s life is he going to not need to be told things 3,428 times before he actually freakin’ does it? I’m just wondering?

Saturday, I told the boy to go get socks. Four minutes later, as I’m running around getting stuff together to leave, I realize he’s still upstairs. So I go check and he’s lying on his bed reading a fucking book!

“Grayson! Dude! That’s awesome you’re reading a book, but…get…your….socks…on!”

Shocked that I would be rattled by this, he says, “I am daddy, I just needed to check something!”

He appears five minutes later with his socks…in his damn hands and stands in the living room doing nothing. A small drip of drool appears on his lower lip as he’s looking out the window into nothingness. Apparently he has become a dog who only knows how to receive and accomplish one command at a time.

“Seriously Grayson? I mean seriously? You know we’re trying to leave to go into the city. You know all that is required in order for you to walk outside in a foot of snow and 10-degree weather, but yet, you need me to walk you through it step-by-step.”

As soon as I finish that last word, he turns and looks at me and says, “Hey daddy, you know on Wii, on Mario, on World 6 when you’re fighting Bowser. His hat is weird!”

I just had to sit down after that. In what freakin’ world does this kid live? Mario’s World I guess.

Can I please have a huge dose of whatever the hell he’s got running through him to where he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the time continuum?

“Focus Danielson!!!!” I yell. This has become his least favorite phrase from me.

“Stop calling me Danielson daddy!!”

“Then put your socks on, then your boots, then your hat, gloves and coat and come…on!!!”

“I ammm!!!”

Every time we leave to go somewhere or to get ready for bed, we deal with this. And it’s leaking into my everyday life.

I’ll catch myself telling wifey we should go ahead and go to the store, “so please go get your socks, your shoes, your gloves, your hat, your coat, put on those jeans that shows-off your ass so I can watch you as you walk in front of me. And please take that damn Snuggie off so you don’t end up on some random website for wearing it to the store, and consider having sex with me tonight. Now! Hurry!”

Maybe I take the “I’m only going to tell you this once” approach and if we spend the day waiting on the boy to get his socks, then so be it. Or maybe I need to make a chart? Shit…I’m going to need a chart aren’t I—a hardcore Supernanny Jo Frost-style chart complete with jars of reward stickers, high fives, and hugs. Or maybe I’ll just super glue them to his feet.

Or, maybe I’ll just chalk it up to the fact the boy’s head is constantly swimming with new information and is going a million miles an hour thinking about Mario, snow forts, biking, hating his sister, and whether or not his experiment in the freezer is done yet.

Maybe I should just go on Xanax.

New Year's Resolutions 2010

Thanks to everyone who read my ramblings since I started this madness in August. Thanks to everyone who took time to knock out a comment. And…well, just thanks!

My New Year’s Resolutions

1) Get a job.

2) Stop calling the cat “jagoff,” “furry turd monster,” “sack-o-shit,” and “piece of shit” because it’s just got to be hurting his self-esteem.

3) Run a total of 1,000 miles by the end of the year.

4) Promote Pants Optional Friday until it becomes a global phenomenon or until the wifey starts participating—whichever comes first.

5) Find whatever the hell’s living in my garage and murder it.

6) Write the first three chapters of my book and start pounding down publishers’ doors.

7) Perfect my Moon Walk and be the first person to ever Moon Walk every sidewalk in the Village I live in.

8) Video myself burning the wifey’s Snuggie and YouTube the shit outta that thing.

9) Love the wifey and kids twice as hard as I loved them in 2009.

10) Continue our 7-year streak of not getting caught having sex by the kids.

11) Start a support group for people traumatized by being caught masturbating by their mother when they were a teenager.

12) Teach the boy that when he flicks a bugger they don’t just vanish in thin air—they land and turn into little hard, sharp landmines that eventually cut daddy’s foot open days later.

13) Continue to be honest, open, and consistent on whatever this blog thingy is that I’m doing here—cause in some screwed-up way it’s awfully damn therapeutic.

14) Finally take the picture of Robert Degen down from the wall in the living room and acknowledge that my idol really has passed on.

15) Invest myself more in my life than I ever have and stop acting like I’m waiting for something.