The Bumpit, The Snuggies & A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

So a few weeks ago a kick-ass friend of mine @nuckingfutsmama and I had an idea. She’s a hilarious blogger, I’m a hack blogger…what if we collaborated? Then the idea morphed to, I write a sentence, then she adds to that sentence, and we keep going back and forth till we have a story. Immediately our idiotic minds said, “hell yeah let’s do that shit,” and it was off to the races.

A week-and-a-half later…here’s the story. My sentences are the blue ones, hers…the pink. But before we get to the story…here’s a bit about my co-author:

@nuckingfutsmama

And here's her bloggy blog: http://mama2point0.wordpress.com/

Mother of twins, co-Chicagoan, stay-at-home-mom, marathoner, ninja yoga-master, hilarious blogger, noticer of dudes working out at the gym near her with massive bulges in their pants, super mom, wine lover, protective of her daughter who’s being stalked by a 1^st grader that’s obsessed with her wearing pony-tails, former patient of a chiropractor that prolonged physical exams so he could check out her ass in her green thong, and just an all around funny-ass, hot, kick-ass lady.

And now…the story!!

The Bumpit, The Snuggies & A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Every time I smell the scent of butter frying in a pan, I can't help but think of the scent of her neck, the way hair grew on only the knuckles of her feet, and how she could beat me in thumb-wrestling with her pinky.

I always found solitude in the unibrow that framed her over-sized googly eyes, and her summer-toothed smile (some were here, some were there) that just melted my heart into a thousand tiny pieces.

Those were the thoughts twirling in my head as I finished shaving the hair off the back of my last customer of the day where I work at Max's Back & Bikini Wax.

As I swept up the last of Big Bertha's pubes and Captain Carl's back fuzz, I knew that I needed to get in touch with the woman who showed me what love was all about. 

Slowly I slid my pants back on, being careful not to catch them on the 12-inch knife cut she gave me just a month ago....the last time I saw her.

She had been raging mad because I'd accidentally thrown away her most prized possession, her Bumpit.

I mean, how the hell was I supposed to know it was her girl toupee when it looked like Uncle Ned had come by our trailer again and left behind one of his fetish dolls?

That fight was the last I saw of her, and word on the street was that she was dancing for dollars at the Pink Puttycat Parlor down in the back woods of Alabama.

But "word on the street" wasn't gonna stop me from giving it one last shot - so I called her number, 1-900-HOTT-ASS.

When she answered the phone, I could tell she was reading a script as she robotically told me just what she'd do to me and a vat of Velveeta cheese, and I got so excited at hearing that burly voice once again that I nearly pissed myself.

I quickly took a deep breath, checked to make sure I hadn't made a wet spot on myself, and said, "Hey sugar-britches it's your little waddly boodly boo."

After about three minutes of dead silence, she laid into me for all the things I'd done to drive her away, like calling her brother a man-whore, using her wart cream as toothpaste, taking all the Beeno without asking, and throwing away her precious Bumpit.

Those words pushed me to my breaking point, so I angrily reminded her of the time she made me wear her Bumpit backwards while we had sex so she could comb it, and how she made me "wear" a tampon all day so I could “empathize,” and how my father had to get a restraining order against her so she'd stop breaking in his house to smell his dirty underwear.

I knew I'd gone too far when all I heard was silence on the other end, but then she blurted out my worst nightmare—she'd married that son-of-a-bitch neighbor of theirs who sold imitation Snuggies out of his trailer.

Slamming the phone down I knew I was finally going to have to pay a little visit to my safety-deposit box to retrieve and begin swift implementation of my diabolical master plan to rid trailer Snuggie sellers from the county once.......and for all!!

Gathering up my lighter fluid and matches from my highly protected treasure box, I headed on over to the White T Timbers Trailer Park to pay a visit to old Mike Hunt and his Snuggie wannabe piles of shit.

Hopping off my fire-engine red Schwinn bicycle with flesh colored truck nutz hanging off the back, I reached in my backpack for my matches and lighter fluid while hawking a loogie on the ground so that anyone watching knew that I meant business!!

With my purple pleather shit kickers, I knocked down Mike's shower curtain front door, grabbed as many fake Snuggies as I could from his king-sized brass waterbed and lit the biggest damn bonfire that trailer park had ever seen.

Then I tossed the remainder of the Snuggies on the front basket of my Schwinn, looked around to see if anyone was watching, checked my kick-ass pleathers I nicknamed "my shit kickers," lifted a leg to let off some "steam," and peddled off towards Tammie's house where I knew I could finish the deed.

Tammie was waiting for me on a lawn chair in her front yard, and after punching me smack dab in the teeth, she grabbed me by the neck and pressed her big red lips, crusty cold sore and all, right up to mine.

"That better be a shit-ton of snuggies in your pansy-ass bike basket idiot boy or else I'm gonna make you clean Rufus' anal glands again while me and the neighbor twins drink beer and watch ya," she said in her super seductive smoker's voice while stopping every 5th word to hack up a lung.

In between grabbing and groping each other's cottage cheese asses, we managed to gather up the shit-ton of burned Snuggie bits and erect a commemorative statue of them in the side yard of Tammie's trailer, attracting thousands of supporters of the anti-Snuggie movement to come and pay their respects.

We were partying, drinking 40s, shooting guns in the air, stripping, taking turns with the neighbor's goat, and that's when I noticed the most horrifying, disgustingly sexiest, fuck-o-licious part of Tammie I'd never seen before.....she had a third nipple!

The fact that Tammie had one overgrown testicle just like me, combined with this latest revelation of a third nipple just like mine confirmed to me that stealing her from that one-legged pimp all those years ago down by the river was the smartest decision I ever made.

To this day I still don't understand why that fur-wearing bastard only had one gold leg made instead of two, but I'm chalking it up to the thought that maybe he's just a big fan of hopping?

At any rate, I finally had my honey schnuckimcakes back, and I figured that if I could swipe her from a no good son-of-a-bitch gimp bastard, then surely I could snitch her from Mike Hunt and his lair of fake blanket robes.

And I had just the thing, buried deep in the crotch of my pants, that was guaranteed to seal the deal and bring her to her knees begging for me to be hers for the rest of our unnaturally born, inbred lives.

I lifted my one oversized very sweaty ball and pulled out a brand new Bumpit to replace the one I'd thrown away, complete with the biggest rock of a Ring Pop I could find at the arcade.

With a Marlboro Red cigarette hanging from her lower lip and eyes popping out of her weathered face she stood there dumbfounded and expressionless before suddenly reaching deep down into the crotch of her pants.

She, too, pulled out a Bumpit and even a comb and told me that I could do the styling during sex next time.

This was the moment I'd waited for my entire life and was the reason I'd worn tear-off pants and a condom every day since I was 13.

So I ripped off my pants to expose my leopard print thong that was emblazoned with the words, "For fuck's sakes, will you marry me or what?"

A smile crept across Tammie's face as she ripped off her shirt to reveal a custom-made bra with three cups for her boobs and extra nipple with "You Damn Skippy" also emblazoned across it.

A we embraced in a sloppy, tonsil-hockey kiss, the whole trailer park came out to cheer us on, even Mike Hunt & the golden-legged pimp, and the two of us lived happily ever after in a van down by the river.

I'm A Little Uncomfortable With This!

I was totally thrown out of my element on Friday. Wifey had booked-up my morning by volunteering me to work both my son’s and my daughter’s Halloween classroom parties. Luckily the schools are across the street from each other…unluckily Mother Nature was on the rag that day and decided to unleash a deluge of water all morning long. It was kind of her way of saying – “here…take this you gap-toothed idiot. Yeah…how would you like to be in charge of all weather all the time and get blamed for deaths, and ruining Timmy’s birthday party, or Suzie’s wedding which will ultimately end up in a divorce cause she got caught with her sister’s husband and goat on his birthday….” That woman seriously needs therapy.

So I get to the boy’s classroom and there’s about 28 seven-year-olds sitting around dressed up as race car drivers, princesses, a lion, White Sox player, a Bears player, and…well, I don’t know what the hell this one kid was, but I’m pretty sure I saw him in a porno once.

I’m all, “Hey – I’m Grayson’s dad. My wife volunteered me to help with the party”

“Hi Grayson’s daddy! Everyone – this is Grayson’s daddy. Say hello!”

It took me a second to realize I should quickly switch into “Grayson’s daddy” mode where everyone talks to everyone else like their 7 years old. So I quickly imagined all my conversations being in 1^st grade teacher lingo…

“Hey sweet wifey…how was your day pretty little girl.”

“Uhh..fine?!”

“Awesome, give me high fives!! Hey, you wanna juice box and a snack?”

“Fuck you…give me a beer and walk away from me.”

“Uh oh…does someone need a tickle? I think so!!! Someone needs their frown turned upside down!!!”

“Touch me and I’ll cut you!”

Now that I was in the mindset – in comes the ringleader…the classroom volunteer head-mother-in-charge. Dressed in a girl-scout outfit, just to prove she was “in the spirit,” she proceeded to gather her tiny gaggle of parents together to begin informing us of our tasks.

Girl Scout Mom delegated tasks like a fucking general. And when she got to me, “and you…you get the game activity. I brought a small pumpkin. Take it – figure it out. Your station’s over there.”

Now, I’ve led a pretty successful career so far and I’ve prided myself on needing little to no supervision or management. I’m a freakin’ strategy creating and implementing machine. But I was literally stumped. If a tree were placed immediately in front of me just then, I would have spent the next hour walking into it repeatedly while pissing myself.

So the little bastards are split up in four groups of approximately 6 kids each. The first group I get is staring at me. I’m killing time by having them explain what characters they’re dressed as while I fake nod like I’m listening (the wifey knows this nod well) but all the while I’m going through my childhood memories trying to remember a cool game we can play with this damn pumpkin.

Then little Franky says, “are well gonna play hot potato with that pumpkin?”

I was so damn relieved I caught myself just as I was about to scream, “fuck yeah we are!” and high five the little bastard through a wall.

So each group of approximately 6 kids came to my station for a total of 12-minutes each. And during that time, one kid looked at me like I was an idiot cause I didn’t know what Star Wars character he was, another kid clearly has no father at home and insisted on sitting in my lap and rubbing my back making me the most uncomfortable I’ve been since the time I watched Michael Jackson with that kid when….well pretty much anytime he was with a kid….., another girl thought it was the funniest thing in the world to stomp my damn foot, and the most memorable little bastard was the one who thought it was hilarious to cough in my face!

When it was over I returned the bruised and beaten small pumpkin to Girl Scout Mom…thanked her for her leadership…slipped my phone number in her purse….and ran into the pouring rain to the daughter’s classroom party so I could do it all over again.

In the end, I did survive…the kids did have fun…and I did get acknowledgement from the wife that at some point in the very distant future, I would be rewarded with sex for my deeds.

Q & A With "Why Is Daddy Crying" II

After the first Q&A I was shocked that is was not only my most popular post, but that I was asked by so many to unload more of my stupidness on to provocative questions asked by my Twitter followers and friends. So...here goes round two. Damn I have the best Twitter dudes and dudettes ever.....

@optimom Notty Nana wants to know how you keep things "alive" in the Rumpus Room!!

I’m gonna assume you’re talking about my kid’s playroom? It’s kind of challenging to keep things alive in there cause…..oh….oh you mean….oh that’s embarrassing. Honestly? Well, I’ll admit it…I’m kind of into the role reversal thing. I’ll have the wifey come into the bedroom wearing a business suit and I’ll wear a Snuggie while knitting and watching Oxygen out of the corner of my eye. And she’ll be all: “Hey baby. I sure had one hell of a day. Whatya say we knock boots….you know, take the ole skin boat to tuna town?”

And I’ll be all: “Oooh, Fraaank. Don’t be silly, it’s not Friday and I’m just so tired from the children.”

And she’ll say, “Now damnit Fey, don’t put it on lockdown woman. I really need to let off some steam.”

“Well then take the Jergens and go ‘let off some steam’,” and I’ll throw the bottle at her.

And she’ll scream, “Damn you Fey…I’m goin’ out with the boys for beers then. To hell with ya.” And she’ll go stomping down the stairs and slam the door.

@crazysahm if you could be any person dead or alive for a day who would you be and why?

I’m gonna go with Caillou. I mean, that little shit amazes me. He’s got his own fucking TV show…and kids around the world idolize him…they’ll kill for him. Second he lives in a dream world where everything is a damn primary color the fads off into white. He’s protected from ever being murdered by the millions of parents that want him dead cause he’s a cartoon. His parents treat him like gold, he’s not a racist, he gets kick-ass meals, his mom’s not too bad looking, and if he wanted to he could get his douche dad kicked off the show cause after all…it’s called “Caillou,” so guess who’s calling the shots on that set?!

@mamabennie Who eats the cookies & drinks the milk (beer) while pretending to be Santa, you or the wifey? (My dad left beer for Santa)

That’s awfully damn brave of you to assume I celebrate Christmas. Jesus lady, in this day in age you should be just a bit more PC about your damn questions. I mean, I could…oh…oh you saw the Christmas video of my kids on my blog? My bad..just kiddin’! High fives?!!

@shelleblok Do you prefer redheads, blondes, or brunettes. You know for ring side girls? :)

Dear Shelle….my sex life is constantly hanging on the edge cause of all the stupid shit I say and do around the wifey. And here you come, tossing out one of the killer questions of all time. I can just see my wife out of the corner of my eye standing there, arms crossed, tapping her foot, and thinking “go ahead you gap-toothed fuck…answer the woman. Which is it asshole?”

Well I’m not falling for it. I’m not….it’s redheads. I can’t hide it. I’m a complete and total sucker for redheads.

@gratefulkim If you weren't working & raising nippers, what is your dream job?

Here we go….the question lady. This is the lady who drilled me with questions last Q&A. How the hell do you have friends? Do you notice everyone around you drinking mass quantities of alcohol all the time?

I’d kill to be novelist. I’d love to be a writer knockin’ out books or whatever brought in money, allowed me to write, and gave me enough time off to travel.

@gratefulkim How has BJ Brittany impacted your life thus far?

Jesus GratefulKim…what is it with you? Honestly. Come on..it’s just you and me right now. Take a seat….relax… Are you comfortable? Good….NOW TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!!

BJ Brittany has taught me that you really can get a terrific image of a BJ if you just put the camera at the right angle. She taught me persistence and that you should never give up when hundreds and thousands of people push you away every hour of every day. BJ Brittany is the definition of inspiration.

@gratefulkim Right now I'm enjoying some oatmeal and egg whites? What is your "breakfast of champions?"

Did….uh….did I ask you what you were eating? I mean, I just re-read everything I wrote and I couldn’t find anything where I asked you a question….probably because I know if I asked you a question, you’d follow it up with 10 more. And how the hell do you eat egg whites with oatmeal? I feel I really need to spend some time understanding you.

I usually don’t eat breakfast…if I do it’s a banana. I used to steal cute little puppies out of children’s arms and eat them…but I’m a vegetarian now.

@gratefulkim What scares you?

YOU DO…you fucking scare me GreatfulKim. With the questions, and the why this and the why that..you scare me…. And Sarah Palin makes me shit myself every time I hear or see that alien woman. Great…I just lost 32 followers with that one….@gratefulkim being one of them….

@grnladybug Q: If you could be a superhero what would you be and why?

Phew…a different person asking questions. Seriously @grnladybug…did you see @gratefulkim go to work on me? I mean…I love her…she’s awesome…but fuck! I’m sorry…what did you ask? Oh…umm….I have no clue…which ever one has x-ray vision. And I think you know why……. Damn that was douchey….

@allconsoffun You mentioned the boy will someday "pretend to shit" in yesterday’s blog. How do you honestly think you'll handle that "shit talk?"

Umm…for those who didn’t read it…I mentioned how someday I’m sure I’ll be talking about how my son claims to be in the bathroom shitting when I know he’s really “salting the beef curtains.”

You know…I’m probably gonna play dumb like I don’t know what’s going on and just hope it doesn’t get out of hand. Pretty much the same way the wifey deals with the issue with me.

@mommieswhodrink 1) Who was the first girl you kissed? 2) What is your drink of choice? 3) Do you have any fetishes? 4) Do you have any friends on the train?

Are you….what happened to…oh…oh I see @gratefulkim standing over there. I thought she put on a costume and came back as you…

1) I have no idea who my first kiss was with. I just remember it was in 1^st grade – I leaned across the isle in the middle of class and kissed her. So hott….

2) Drink of choice…anything with alcohol…love gin in tonic, Newcastle’s a damn good beer, and I could shoot Jager all night long.

3) Any festishes? If you take the word “fetish” and mash it with the word “guy” you’ll see you always get a “yes.”

4) Friends on the train? You’re following me aren’t you? Seriously…you sit in my train car and notice I’m one of only a handful of people that don’t have “friends” on the train. I have a friend….you can’t see him but he’s there.

@musicsavvymom What is the airspeed velocity of the unladen swallow?

It’s really a simple question of weight ratios when considering the kinematic ratios in winged flight. Take for instance the Zebra Finch. That stupid fuck only eats tiny bits of seed because its so small and insignificant it can’t really handle anything much bigger. Therefore, when that stripped bitch takes flight…he’s bookin’. There for his airspeed velocity would be 15 meters per second.

Now…an unladen swallow by nature is of the “slut” side of the flying feathered family. You can tell by the way in which its beak tilts towards the sky, throat open, and its ability to swallow a variety of things. Given that, I would use the Strauhal equation. Based on that equation and a bit of math…I’d say 11 meters per second or 24 miles per hour…which isn’t bad for a swallower.

@drlori71 If you're watching TV drunk, which would you be most likely to buy: Snuggie, Touch n Brush, Bendaroos, or Big Top Cupcake?

I’d have to be in a coma to buy a fucking Snuggie. The Big Top Cupcake would be great if I was sooo drunk I needed something to puke in. The Bendaroos and Touch n Brush are interesting though….

The Touch n Brush I’d totally use to put lotion in. It’d be a quick way to just get a dab or two when you need it in a jiff. The only problem is the hole. Now I’m really tiny, but not that tiny. The Bendaroos could be kinky as hell in the bedroom though. Bondage….clamps….rings…..the list is long. I think given that I’d naturally be horny as hell while drunk and thinking irrationally about my wife being adventurous in bed…I’d go with the Bendaroos.

@mimiruse Would you rather be zipped into a Snuggie for a week, or take your kids to a public crapper every time they have to go for a week?

Nice…I’m gonna go with the public crapper…and since you didn’t specify which public crapper, I’m gonna go with the women’s public crapper for a week. I can’t wait!!!

@lesleehorner What's one thing you are passionate about, and lose all track of time while doing?

Well…you specified I couldn’t say tantric sex. So, I’d have to say ridding the world of chewed gum left in public places. I’ve been devoted to this cause for a number of years and have spent countless hours scrapping, documenting, and studying the evolutionary flow of gum as it moves carelessly from a chewers mouth, to the ground near a trashcan, to your shoe, to the elevator, and onto a janitor’s scraper. Provocative…I know.

@nuckingfutsmama If you got a "free pass" from your wife to use on a celebrity, which one would it be & why?

Well…there’s a lot of celebrities I’d like to grudge-fuck… I know…I’m sorry...that was crossing the line. I apologize…I’m just speaking from my heart kids…

I’m gonna have to say Jennifer Aniston. She’s a classic in my book. From the hair, to the face, to the eyes, to the breasts, back to the eyes, to the ass, to the breasts, to the legs, to the ass. She makes me wanna be a better man to my wife so that some day she gives me a free pass.

I’d take her to a nice restaurant, we’d laugh, she’d tell me about what a goofball Chandler was on the set, I’d tell her about the blog post where I wrote about the evolution of shit….then I’d open the door to my Chevrolet Lumina and wisk her off to the Palmer House Hilton where I’d have a bottle of champagne I bought at 7-11 waiting on ice in the bathtub. Then the moment would be right…we’d get closer…we’d touch hands and I’d be able to smell her and feel her presence. I’d feel her breath…and then our lips would slightly touch…then I’d need to be excused…..

After cleaning myself up I’d walk back in the room and she’d be laughing, but I’d know it was just another story about Chandler on the set of Friends she was really laughing about. Then she’d ask if we could just be friends…and I’d say “Friends…get it…Friends.” Then she’d slap me…call me a douchebag…grab the champagne and leave.  

Oh..and why would I chose her? Because she owns her sexiness in a classy, seductive as hell way…kinda like my 4^th grade teacher….but that’s a whole other story…

@kitterztoo If you could describe yourself as a color, which color would that be?

Casper white.

 

Q & A With "Why Is Daddy Crying?"

@MotherhoodFilm asks: What do you think of women who use the word "like" in a sentence repeatedly?

I was hoping you’d stop the question right after the word “woman.” Well, like, I totally think women who like say “like” all the time, or like totally not women at all….but girls. It like reminds me of last week when I like totally sat behind these two college girls who like OMG, drove me fucking nuts. And, I totally didn’t have my like, iPod. I was sooo, just….like OMG, OMG, OMG. I finally went and like slammed my head in a door for the rest of the train ride. Like…

@TrishB asks: How did you meet your wife, how did you know she was the one & how did you propose?

Jesus TrishB…get all up in my business why don’t you…. Seriously, we’re high school sweethearts. We met our junior year – she was the new girl in school – all the other girls wanted me dead or were tired of my stupid shit. She came walking into class wearing these white, tight jeans. Her ass mesmerized me and it was love at first…I knew she was the one. I proposed one day by walking in from work, flipping a ring at her and saying, “Let’s do this shit!!” Seriously – I spent months putting money down on a ring while we were in college. I finally put enough down to where the guy was willing to let me have it. I drove 6 hours to see her at her college, proposed, and she broke up with me. Aaahhh those were the days.

@ryanashleyscott asks: Do you enjoy playing cars w/ the kids? I gotta say, I really don't - but I'm thinking it's because I'm mom, not dad.

I enjoy playing cars with the boy for about 5 minutes. From that point on it’s a struggle. But I’m pretty much that way with everything….golf, sex, work, doing backflips, staring into my neighbor’s windows, streaking town hall meetings, painting random kids along the side of the road blue as they walk home from school….

@MamaBennie asks: How are you so fucking awesome?!?!?

By “so fucking awesome” I’m gonna take a stab that you really mean “such a fuck-stick.” For years people have pondered that question. My dad was the most vocal – “Jesus Christ…how are you even able to stand on two legs you fuck-stick?” My brother just beat me with sticks…and occasionally shot at my feet with a pellet gun. I hear my wife praying sometimes when she thinks I’m asleep – “dear lord…make this fuck-stick disappear. Honestly…I didn’t know what I was getting into and you’re all about forgiveness and stuff…so whatta say fella?!! Wanna give a girl her dream to start fresh?!”

Sorry I couldn’t answer it…..it’s just one of those unanswerable things….

@4uandme asks: Why is daddy cryin'?

Because fucking Twitter has a restriction on how many letters can be in your name. I wanted to have the “g” on the end, but nnnoooooo…can’t do that can we TWITTER?!!

@hotmom_of3 asks: What are you going to be for Halloween?

BJ Brittany from Twitter

@GratefulKim asks: U work, U cook, U help with the kids, UR funny, U love & honor your wife, U write...what is your advice for men?

Well GratefulKim…I’d like to thank you for helping me shoot to the top of the Dude Hit List. Why would you blow my cover like that woman?! Now all the husbands are gonna try and put a cap in my ass. My advice dudes….don’t do shit around the house. I don’t do jack around the house…I make the woman do it. That’s why I got married, so I could sit around and….hold on, what honey……no…no, I was just….yes dear..I mean ma’am…yes ma’am.

I gotta go.

@GratefulKim asks: What is the meaning of life?

Didn’t you just ask a question? You’re that kid in the backseat during carpool who can’t just chill…you gotta know EVERYTHING. Are we there yet? Why is the sky blue? Why does mommy need the mailman to go upstairs just to pay him for the mail?

The meaning of life is good beer, good laughs, good friends, and experiencing true love.

@GratefulKim asks: Boxers or briefs?

Jesus, you ARE that kid. You’re as bad as I am with the questions… Do people go running screaming from you sometimes?

I go commando GratefulKim. I let the boys breathe whenever I can. But during the winter – it’s boxer-briefs. Actually...I lied. I wear boxer-briefs all the time. I even blogged about it once. Except on Pants Optional Fridays…then…well…ya know.

@GratefulKim asks: What is the best surprise your wife could give you that doesn't involve sex or groping?

Holy shit GratefulKim…..all right. Let’s make a deal. I’ll keep answering your questions if you promise to buy me a beer for every question I answer? Deal lady?!

I’m not sure I understand how something can be called a “surprise” if it doesn’t involve sex or groping. I mean…sex and groping is….well when it happens it’s a huge surprise. I guess outside of that I’d have to say that I want an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle…without her telling me I’ll shoot my eye out.

@grnladybug asks: Do you believe in extraterrestrial life out there and if so, are they cooler or crazier than we are.

I used to scoff at the thought of extraterrestrial life forms. Then…Sarah Palin came on the scene and since then, I’ve seriously changed my mind.

@Jabulani9 asks: OK, Daddy, why were you cuddling mummy like that last night? You don't cuddle me that way.

Seriously…are you on crack? Did your parents drop you as a kid? There’s no cuddling going on in the WhyIsDaddyCrying estate.

@barbaragaines asks: What are Santa eyedrops?

You mean the eyedrops my daughter says Santa’s gonna bring her for her pink eye? Click here to see.

@allconsoffun asks: What's the best advice/worst advice you parents ever gave you? Please support your answers in a 25 word minimum essay style format.

Best: “Hey boy…come here and listen close cause I’m only gonna say it once… Don’t ever piss on an electric fence.”

Support: Pulling your pecker out and using it where everyone can see is not smart. Keep that guy to yourself and whoever you’re with …and use it wisely. You’ll live longer and happier if you do.

Worst: “Hey boy….come here and listen close cause I’m only gonna say it once….drink the milk in the pink container…it’s strawberry milk.

Support: Even though the container was pink, it was just regular milk inside. Making personal decisions based on the exterior look of things is the most ignorant way to live your life. Read the carton, open it, sniff it, taste it, get to know it…then make your decision.

@crazysahm asks: Would you accept the Snuggie if it came with two options: 1) spots for beer cans and 2) BJ Britney.

Ab-so-fucking-lootly. But then afterwards I’d burn it.

@sassygael asks: Why aren't kids freaked by Yo Gabba Gabba like adults are?

I’m personally insulted by this question. I happen to watch Yo Gabba Gabba while stoned, at least 5 or 6 times a day. I have learned so much from that show that it’s ridiculous. “Freaked out?” About what? From learning awesome things like that you shouldn’t bite your friends? Or that there’s a party in your tummy? That freaks you out? You know what – you freak me out?

I’m sorry about that…that was mean… You wanna go smoke and watch Yo Gabba Gabba with me?

@drlori71 asks: What do you think is the most annoying kids show on TV?

Holy shit that’s easy. Caillou. Holy mother of all things that make me want to rip my ears off, shove them up my own ass, throw myself through a glass window, and run into oncoming traffic….I hate, hate, hate that show. His voice makes me…well…it makes me want to do everything I just said. I want nothing but misery for everyone of those characters on that show. I hope they all become crack addicts and featured on Intervention.

Sex & The Snuggie

I got a glimpse last night into what my winter will be like. Let me rephrase that…what my sex life will be like this winter.

My wife is sick right now. I fell badly for her because she’s clearly not feeling well. She tries to help around the house, but all I see through my insane, fucked-up way of thinking is her spreading germs all over the house.

Last night I’m hanging out, just finished putting the little bastards to sleep, when it happens. The wifey descends from upstairs and flops down on the other end of the couch wearing the big, blue, stupid, frock looking, Snuggie. Yeah the real Snuggie.

Now…she knows I hate the Snuggie. She knows the first time I saw an ad for the Snuggie I picked up the TV and threw it out the front window. She knows that the very site of the Snuggie makes me want to take a flamethrower to it. It’s like nails on a chalkboard to me. But what am I going to do? She’s sick, and achy, and clearly wanted to get warm.

Then I suddenly became paralyzed with a sudden formula:

Comfort + Warmth = Snuggie cock-blocking all winter long.

She’s never going to take this thing off again. It will forever be the oversized sheath covering wifey and keeping us from the wonderful world of whoopie-making. It will become one with her. Once the children are tucked nicely in bed, she will shroud this magnificent piece of marketing bullshit around her body making her impenetrable to any and all efforts me and my little fella make towards sexual bliss.

I know, I know..you’re thinking, “well climb in there with her you idiot.” No..for a few reasons...

1) I hate the fucking Snuggie and don’t even want it touching me.

2) Wifey is clausterphobic and would be miserable with her and me in the Snuggie

3) I hate the fucking Snuggie and don’t even want it touching me.

And there’s no such thing as a crotchless Snuggie. There’s no Velcro strap that can be removed and placed back once the deed is done. There’s no flaps up top like women’s breast-feeding bra flaps.

My anger for the Snuggie has now reached new dimensions.

You’re on notice Snuggie. I will fuck you up. You will die. I will watch you burn, Twitter about it, TwitPic the whole thing, blog about it, then burry your ass in the alley where I can drive over your remains every day. You’re dead to me and I’m coming for you…….