A Few Things… Then Five Questions…

So… I wanted to remind everyone about sending me their pictures of themselves holding a sign professing their undying love for Hands To War.  It’s never too late… and you’ll get a little free advertising for it too (if you want).

Also, I was contacted about a week ago to start writing movie reviews for this website.  Perhaps I’m more famoust then I thought… or just more gullible!  Anyway, I’ve submitted my first review… so check it out if you get a chance!  But then again… if you’re a regular reader of my blog then you’ve probably already read it.

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NOW…. Five questions…

1.  Who’s your celebrity crush

Do I even have to tell you again… 

2.  If boogers tasted like ice creame and/or cake… would you eat them?

In all honesty… they don’t have to taste like ice creame or cake for them to be DELICIOUS!!

3.  If I grew my hair until it was long enough to put in a pony tail would you still read my blog?

 

I imagine myself looking like this…

While Bunny imagines me looking like this…

4.  Have you ever had that dream where you go to school and you’ve forgotten to wear anything at all!  Yep… I’ve had it too.  What about forgetting your locker combination?  Yep… I still have that one.

 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…. I’m naked and forgot my locker combination!

5.  If you saw this:

Would you think you were watching a children’s show or would your life be flashing before your eyes because you were about to get eaten by a red, giant, wart-infested Cyclops?

 

What Makes A Man?

Every man in the world today is fed forcibly, whether they want to or not, the complete and total sexuality of women.  It sells bubble gum, tennis shoes, cologne, energy drinks and any other sellable product you can think of.  It comes in the form of skin-tight clothing, the lack of clothing or the conveniently placed triangle.  It’s in the books we read, it’s in the movies we rent and it’s in the department store magazines that arrive in our mailbox.

It’s everywhere and unless you live in a volcano… it’s inescapable.

The development of the male mind over the centuries has gradually been eroded and desensitized to believe what is acceptable for their wives, daughters, grand-daughters, girlfriends or just the random passer-by to wear.  Just ask your grandpa what grandma had to wear to the beach “back in the day”.  Probably something that exposed – ‘gasp’ – her ankles!!

I simply believe that whether you’re trying to or not… your mind will conjure up something.  This is the nature of the beast that is our human nature… or you can call it sin nature if you like.

In this day and age, as men, how are we supposed to escape the never ending barrage of sexuality that’s shoved down our throats?  Well… we never fully can.  I’m not saying you can’t chose to avoid a lot of it… but to completely deny the fact that grandpa saw some other women’s ankles on the beach other than grandma’s and thought to himself, “Now those are some nice ankles!” then you’re in for a harsh awakening.

Mmmmmmm… these are a few of grandpa’s favorite things…

I think if you find an old couple like grandma and grandpa, you’ll find two people who know how much they love each other.  You’ll also find two people who are extremely open with each other.  Grandma was well aware of grandpa’s penchant for the occasional glance and appreciation of the beauty of some woman’s ankles and that was okay!  She might have even said, “What do you think of that girl’s ankles?”  Grandma was comfortable enough with herself, her ankles and her husband’s dedication to her to know that he would never go for another woman’s ankles other than her own.

That’s okay because Grandpa also knows that grandma has an occasional inkling to admire a man’s bulging forearms when given the chance.

“Nothin’ better than a good set of forearms!” She’s been known to say.

So what’s the point of this post?  The point is it is okay to admire the attributes of other people other than your significant others.  It’s silly to think it never happens!!

The line can be crossed though in a number of ways:

   1. The amount of time you find your self looking

   2. You put yourself in a situation your significant other wouldn’t appreciate you being in.

   3. You’re emblazing an image in your mind that won’t be forgotten most easily accessible by a number of mainstream media outlets

   4. You freakin’ cheat on your significant other obviously!!  Dumbass!

   5. You believe in your mind that your significant other obviously knows all “this” goes on inside and outside your gray matter because “you’re a MAN!”… but she doesn’t ask you about it because it’s kind of an “unspoken rule” not to do so.

FYI – she had no idea it goes on.  

In most men’s minds these days, they think its biology and “human nature” to need to look and satisfy an insatiable desire to see more skin.  That is not what I’m saying in this post.  To blame the infidelity of your eyes, mind or even your whole body… is spineless and is no ones fault other than your own.  I’m not saying this in a “mightier than thou” tone either… I am, in effect, calling myself spineless because I did not adhere to some of my points I listed above for quite some time.  My wife now trusts me when I am on the computer alone.  A scenario not so easily discussed a little more than a year ago.

Bunny is not naïve enough to know that I may steal a glance at the Victoria’s Secret commercial on TV, enjoy watching the swimsuit competition of the Ms. America pageant or notice the revealing outfit of an overconfident woman at the supermarket.  I’m a dude… cut me some slack!  She too takes a longing glance a Paul Walker (despite his acting ability) at moments when I’m in the room and he’s on television… but I know she has a school girl crush on him. 

Paul Walker: my wive’s “Kim Kardashian”

We do not deny we do these things to each other.  She is my wife and I love her and she realizes the nature of my brain leads my eyes to cleavage… it’s the amount of time my eyes stay there that warrants gouging them out with a fork.

So… what makes a man?  A man who’s honest to himself, who’s honest to his wife, who’s honest to his God and in turn… is honest to the love he confessed to having for her on his wedding day.  If you can accomplish that… you’ll find yourself old and withered together one day, sitting on a park bench admiring all the pretty ankles walking by.

Grandma’s got the best ankles… and look at those forearms on paw!

 

Movie Review: The Hurt Locker

Starring: Jeremy Renner, Anthony Mackie, Guy Pierce, terrorists, massive explosions

Total Running Time: 131 minutes

In the wake of Oklahoma Cities “Snow Death 2010” I was forced by powers beyond my control to stay at home instead of travel the necessary 3 ½ hours to Arlington, TX and participate in the Texas Rangers Fanfest 2010… *sob*.  My “Mecca” would have to wait one more year.

“Snow Death 2010″… only the strong survived

Despite my initial depression, screaming outbursts, heavy sighs and uncontrollable sobbing… I slowly began to mend (notice I said I’m not over it yet… nor will I ever be).  Bunny suggested we rent a movie from Cox “On Demand”… she’d let me have the pick of whatever I wanted! 

Perhaps this was the beginning of my luck changing.

I selected a movie I’ve been hearing A LOT of good things about: The Hurt Locker.

The movies scenery is a depressing one… it takes place in year 2004, Afghanistan.  The major players of the movie are a group of utterly fearless soldiers whose main job is to disarm bombs of all kinds across the Afghani countryside.  These could be bombs found in cars, concealed in trashcans, buried under the sand, dirty bombs, IED’s, etc.  It certainly is an interesting concept since it never really occurred to me that such a job existed!  Even if I had known of its existence… I probably wouldn’t have thought it was a career you could center a whole two hour movie around!

Regardless of my complete ineptitude at the existence of such a career, one of which I would assume has a high turnover (or instant death) rate, the director did an okay job of molding a story around it.  I say “okay” in italics because I didn’t think the movie’s story line was very solid.  As far as the representation of the job itself and the absolute hopelessness of war-torn, terrorist ridden Afghanistan… it was on point.  It made me feel good I don’t have worry about stepping on land mines on my way to work every morning.

He’s not having a good day

One particular point of the movie that bothered me though and one they never explained is the fact that these guys would come to disarm bombs that most of the time seemed to be abandoned or complete neighborhoods, schools and work places would be cleared out before the bomb squad would arrive.  What’s the point in bombing if your bomb never goes off and/or doesn’t cut down a huge swath of people?  Most of the time, there actually was a terrorist standing “behind the curtain” ready to flip a switch to send the bomb squad and every living organism within 100 yards into the stratosphere.  But in the 20 minutes it took the bomb squad to disarm the exploding car, trash can or dirt mound… the terrorist was apparently picking his nose because he always seemed to wait until it was too late to blow them up. 

Perhaps the movie is telling us that “Yo!  Terrorists are freakin’ stupid.”  If that’s the underlying motive of the movie… then I say “Hell yeah.”

Another interesting point about this movie I found intriguing was the fact that the director used relative unknown actors in the lead roles… while using more prominent actors in smaller roles.  David Morse (The Rock, Disturbia), Guy Pierce (Memento, Ravenous), Ralph Fiennes (Harry Potter, Red Dragon) and Evangeline Lilly (Lost) all make an appearance but only long enough for you to say, “Hey!  There’s ‘insert actor/actress name here’ from ‘insert movie/TV show here’!”

Jeremy Renner (can’t say I’ve seen him in anything else… but apparently he’s going to be in the new Avengers movie) plays SFC William James, a Billy Badass type dude that seems to be scared of nothing!  He disarms bombs without his protective space suit, stands down oncoming cars with nothing more than a pistol and buys video porn from an Afghani kid only to be disappointed by the its low-grade and shaky quality.  Having disarmed more than 600 bombs in his career, he’s intimidated by nothing… except being a responsible husband and father i.e. the most difficult job on the planet.

William James: Bomb disarmer, badass, gunslinger, future lung cancer patient and bad father

The story mainly focuses around him and hits on a few of the struggles of his comrades.  If anything… it’s raw.  It’s real.  It bleeds with the horrors of what the world has become outside of this free and comfortable land we live in called the United States of America.

Despite its entirely real depiction of what it must be like over there… I have to give the movie demerits on its inability to really have a storyline!  It went in so many directions.  I was disappointed time and time again when I thought the movie was going somewhere only to be hung to dry.

I truly expected more from the movie… and unfortunately I always seem to be disappointed when I go into a movie expecting too much.  For this reason… I’ll probably never see Avatar!

I give The Hurt Locker (oh yeah… what they hell is a “Hurt Locker”?) a total of three out of five sunburned Kim Kardashians.

 

The Hangover: Pre-Papa K Style (Part 1)

F to the Y to the I… this is purely a story that materialized over 10 years ago.  I was much much more stupid and in no way am I encouraging the activities I participated in.  This is simply the first part of a story that I look back on and say “I was a complete dumbass.”

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Back when I was 19 and dumb as hell (as most 19 year olds are)… I got alcohol poisoning.  I also suffered some memory loss (as alcohol poisoning tend to do).  I also wound up with a rug burn in the shape of New Zealand on my forehead.

Allow me to explain…

I was just starting to get what it was to rebel.  I was actually much older than most kids when I discovered how much fun rebellion was because I had been homeschooled for four years before I went to high school and my social development clock was about four years behind those who had experienced the angst and pressures of the public school system.  Aside from only one time at junior prom had I really even drank enough alcohol to get drunk… until this summer after my first year in college.

I had started a job working at El Chico, a Mexican restaurant with the flashy Mexican exterior and a Taco Bell kitchen.  Seeing that this particular evening was my first Friday evening experience being a waiter without my trainer… I got absolutely slaughtered by my tables.  I got stiffed twice and couldn’t seem to handle multiple tasks OR multiple tables.

El Chico = Taco Bell on steroids

This was the beginning of a perfect storm of circumstances in which I was becoming primed for a series of events which would lead to memory loss, dirty mattresses and a mysterious rug burn the size of a slice of ham on my forehead.

By the time my shift at El Chico was over and I’d hardly made any money… I was in the frame of mind to get crunk. 

I would appropriately dub this “circumstance #1”: just wanting to forget the night ever happened regardless of the consequences.

I was still living at home because I was attending a junior college at the time so I had told my parents I was staying at a friend Brad’s house who just so happened to be having a party that night.  Since I had worked late that night I pulled up to Brad’s house to find that most everyone had left to go elsewhere.

“What the heck!”  I said as I got out of my truck.  “Where’s everyone gone?”

My friend, Wolfgang (not his real name… I have to protect his identity since he’s a school teacher now), obviously was well on his way to channel the ghost of W.C. Fields seeing the way his stumbled over to me.

A young Papa K and “Wolfgang” in more sober times (Wolfgang’s true image concealed to protect his identity)

“Man… it’s just you, me and Brad dude!  We got tons of beer left because everyone left!  You better catch up!  Brad and I are freakin’ drunk!”

Thus we are faced with “circumstance #2 and #3”: anger at the fact I missed the party and missed the fun AND now I have to “catch up” to my friends’ current state of intoxication

Now faced with the fact that there were NO GIRLS at this party… I reluctantly changed from my salsa stained El Chico garb and into some more comfortable party clothes.

I quickly downed several Coronas seeing that I needed to “get” to where Wolfgang and Brad “were”.  Being that this alcohol abuse was a fairly new thing to me, I had no real concept of pacing myself.  I had to “catch up” to my friends.    Not having any kind of tolerance whatsoever… it didn’t take me long to get “there”.

Over my puffed out chest and through my double vision, I saw Brad pull out some cups and sit at his table.

Uma Thurman… as seen through my eyes that night.

“Let’s play a drinking game!!” he shouted.

I honestly can’t remember what we were playing or if we were actually playing anything at all!  I just remember it resulted in drinking more… and drinking faster.

Suddenly… Brad whipped out a bottle of Southern Comfort he had snatched from his father’s liquor cabinet.

“Let’s take some shots!” he ballyhooed!

Situation #4: liquor is bad. *urp*… I don’t feel so well…

As I’d mentioned before… I was new at this drinking stuff and as an “up-and-coming” drinker… I had actually thought about what I wanted to be “known for”: beer drinker or liquor drinker.  The image that came to mind when I thought about a beer drinker was a bloated, fat redneck as opposed to a distinguished gentlemen in a smoking jacket swirling his highball glass containing his Jack Daniels on the rocks when I thought of a liquor drinker.

I wanted to be a liquor drinker.

I thought I was a liquor drinker.

Boy was I off.

After the Southern Comfort had been revealed, the three of us came to realize there were no shot glasses.  All we had were regular glasses.  So… we carried on our barrage of stupidity by guesstimating what was a shot within our regular sized glasses.  A guess made nearly impossible when you’re processing things with a brain being rapidly depleted of its problem solving ability.

The glaze over my eyes could have been to cover a donut… but I hollered “pour me another” as I slammed my empty glass to the table after shoving yet one more shot the size of three shots down my gullet.

“Yeah…” I thought as the memories at this point in time start to fade away, “I’m definitely a liquor drinker.”

Wolfgang struggled with a shot… then sputtered.  He clumsily placed the glass which was a third full of Southern Comfort back on the table.

“I can’t do this!” He said.  “I gotta mix it with something… it’s too gross”.

He then proceeded to pour the rest of his Corona into the glass effectively mixing the two liquids into one horrible concoction.  He raised the glass to his lips only to slam it back to the table moments later with his face contorted in such a way that made you think he might have just drank from the septic tank.

I can’t even begin to tell you where I was at this point in time.  I mean, I know where I was physically… but mentally I somewhere between Mars and Saturn.  I don’t know what else I felt I needed to prove to myself or anyone else but I grabbed Wolfgang’s pint glass that was full of Southern Comfort mixed with Corona and said, “YOU PANSY!!” and subsequently downed the entire thing.

Situation #5: total annihilation.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”  I said.

That is the last thing I remember.

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Stay tuned for Part 2… already written but to be posted soon…

 

“Advertise” With Me… FOR FREE!

“Scratch my back… and I’ll scratch yours” as the saying goes.

(((UPDATE: See the first couple “advertisers” or fans at my fanroll.)))

I’m a fledgling blog of only about a year old (between VirtualHugs and this one) and  I’m constantly trying to think of something interesting to do on my blog… okay… maybe interesting isn’t the right word.  I think naming my wart as one of my best friends would qualify as interesting to say the least.  Perhaps unique would be a better word.

In the blogging world… you have to separate yourself and find new ways to market yourself and your blog.  This involves a lot of time registering with search engines, making comments on other blogs, getting involved in all the social networking sites (Facebook, Twitter, MySpace), etc.  This is all rewarding and fun to do… but I’ve been scratching my head trying to come up with another way to make myself different than all the other blogs in the “blogosphere”… as us blogging nerds like to call it.

Most blogs out there have a “blogroll”, or list of blogs they (the author) enjoy reading, open for their adoring fans to click through and read.  I too have this here.

In addition to a blogroll… I am going to do a “fanroll” or you could call it “Who’s Reading Papa K”.  It will be a completely separate page up top in addition to “Home”, “Wanna Know Me?”, ”Who’s Bunny?”, ”Who’s DLG?” and “Sushi Blogroll”.

This will be an area for my readers to “advertise” whatever they’d like (within reason… no escort, assassination or knee-cap shattering services please) FOR FREE!  All you have to do is take a valid picture of yourself verifying it is actually you holding a sign reading “I Read Hands To War!” and, if you like, any other interesting or funny quip.

For example:

“I Read Hands To War!  And I Think You Are An Extremely Handsome Man.”

“I Read Hands To War!  It Saved My Marriage.”

“I Read Hands To War!  But Just Because I Think Your Wife Is Hot.”

Etc.

In return, I will post a link to your website, blog, service, FaceBook page or whatever you want people to go to underneath your picture.

So… it would look something like this:

Ha Ha Papa K… you’re the most handsome, ingenius blogger I know!  Go read Papa K’s blog and www.handstowar.wordpress.com.  And in case you’re wondering… yes… I was trying to look sexy.

Or this:

Oh Bunny… you ol’ comedian!  To read more about Bunny and her adventures with her overstimulated husband go to www.icantbelieveicanputupwithsomuchcrap.com (FYI… that’s not a real website… I did click on it just to make sure). 

Doing this in turn does two things:

1. Drives more readers to my site to make themselves known

2. Brings traffic to your site… uh, did I mention… FOR FREE!

Now, I know I’m no Google or Perez Hilton… but I could be some day.  Wouldn’t you be kicking yourself if you didn’t get in on the ground floor now? 

Just food for thought.

Send your pictures and URL information here: papak4324@live.com

POSTSCRIPT:  Don’t feel like you have to have something to “advertise” just to send me a picture of yourself you’d like me to put in the “fanroll”.  As most homosapiens, I desire words of encouragement and would love to see your smiling faces giving me props… or maybe you want to tell me to go to hell… whichever.

POSTSCRIPT #2:  This “fanroll” idea generated a challenge in my mind: “How hard would it get celebrity bloggers to send me their pictures verifying they’ve read my blog?”  Look for future pictures in my fanroll of Kim Kardashian (aka Hottest Woman Alive Next To Bunny). 

Oh… she’ll read my blog… you just watch!  A boy’s gotta have a dream.

 

The “New” Virginity

Recently, there was a show on VH1 called “The New Virginity”.  It started by documenting the small fraction of young Hollywood personalities that still cling to their virginity and incorporated the push in America by certain religious groups to pledge to save themselves until marriage.

I know that this hour long “semi-documentary” really tried to stay un-biased towards either side… but I felt a twinge of mockery towards those who really try and dedicate themselves to their future spouse.

I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine about virginity.

“It’s unnatural!” he would say.  “You’re going completely against biology!  If you look at history of man… we’ve been having premarital sex since we were cavemen.”

My answer to him:

“I’d like to see those being the final words coming out of the mouth of the dude that steals my daughter’s virginity away from right before I cave his face in with a sledge-hammer.”

I don’t buy it.

Call me Christian.  Call me a daughter’s father.  Tell me I’m living in a world that doesn’t exist!

Well… I’d have to agree with you then.

Yes, I am a Christian.  Yes, I am a protective father to a beautiful one year old daughter who will grow up one day and her daddy won’t know how to deal with it.  And yes, I’m living in a world that doesn’t exist because quite frankly… our world makes it almost impossible to grow up with any ideals.

What I’ll sadly admit to is that I was not a virgin when I married Bunny.  The true consequences of these actions are not truly comprehended unless I really sit and ponder the effect it does have on you as a married couple.

We have a wonderful marriage full of love, fun and laughter lightly sprinkled with the healthy argument or disagreement from time to time.  We went into marriage knowing about each others pasts as we were not inclined to hide it from each other… but I’d be lying if I didn’t say the stains of past trysts didn’t have an effect.  It’s not crippling.  It’s not like I can’t function.  But it is there.

Our culture has created an environment where activities saved better for the marital bedroom are openly accepted outside the vows of marriage.  Mainstream media i.e. movies, television, magazines and the internet feed us a constant stream of “Do what feels good now… deal with the consequences later!”

I don’t want to sound high and mighty like I’m without fault… because I’m guilty as charged.  In my 30 years I’ve done things I fully regret and hurt people I never wanted to hurt.

But having a child… having a perfectly innocent child completely unaware of the world around her and willing to do nothing more than to just love you unconditionally with no ulterior motives… makes you explore your own heart.

Allow me to quote the greatest man who ever walked the Earth: “Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  And whoever received one child such as this in my name received me.”

You don’t have to believe in heaven.  You don’t have to believe in God.  But Jesus was real… and he said that!  And I’m inclined to believe him.

If you believe that Jesus was a good man who was full of nothing but love and did great things while he was on this Earth then you must be inclined to believe this math deduced from his quote above: love = children.

Children are an awesome creation.  Whether you want to believe they were put here through the magic of billions of years of circumstance… or the imprint of more intelligent creator… it’s hard to argue they are the purest form of love on the planet.

If we want to start curing the world of its pestilence… shouldn’t we start looking towards our children for the answers on love rather than what some movie director’s interpretation of it is?

Our children are going to be the adults of tomorrow.  I know DLG’s ideals are going to set like hard concrete at some point and I’m just going to be able to sit back and hope I did a good job raising her and infusing her with ideals that will benefit her greatly in the game of life.  Just standing idly by and “seeing what happens”… ain’t kosher to me.

After all this… I know one thing… when I walk her down that isle on her wedding day… I want her to know what that white dress means.  And I don’t want to have to clean brains off my sledge-hammer either.

 

If I Were Superman…

With a lack of nothing better to talk about…

“Hi!  I’m a dork!”

I would fly around on my back instead of my stomach.

I’d never lose an argument.

I could have ice cream whenever I wanted.

I would break all the records in “The Guinness Book of World Records” so they could change the name to “Superman’s Accomplishments”.

I would pee a hole in the wall.

I’d wear my red underwear inside my pants.

I would stop a bullet with my eyeball (like in the movie).

I would stop a cannonball with my eyeball.

I would stop a missile with my eyeball.

I would see how long I could leave my eye open while hanging out the window of a moving car until it started to water up.

I’d station my headquarters on the moon.

I’d crash any party I wanted to.

I’d try to pet a cat and accidentally smash it because I was so strong.

I’d play soccer and when I’d kick the ball… it would disintegrate.

I’d sneeze in a restaurant and everyone would suffer a massive concussion.

I would chop down trees with my laser eyes.

When I’d clear my throat… people would go deaf.

I’d explore the center of the Earth… but would be really lonely.

I’d charge people to have me fly them around.

I’d have to get an assistant to keep my social networking sites updated for me… because I would accidentally smash every keyboard I typed on.

I’d eat a hamburger with my mind.

I’d swallow the entire Pacific Ocean.

I’d become hugely obese then anorexic in a 24 hour period of time.

I’d travel back in time and bring back a dinosaur.

I’d make the sun my bitch.

I could do the splits.

What would you do?

 

My Buddy

There are few things in life more rewarding than developing a good friendship and staying in contact with that friend until the two of you can barely see each other over your colostomy bags.

I have a buddy who’s like that.  This buddy has always been there for me from the moment we met somewhere between high school and college and we’ve been inseparable ever since. 

I’d never grown tired of my buddy until my wife told me that she was annoyed by how much time I was spending with my buddy.  She would sometimes spot me fondling my buddy while we watched TV or biting my buddy or laughing over breakfast with my buddy or scratching my buddy’s dry bald head.

She’d slap my hand and say “Cut that out!  That’s disgusting!”

I say, “WE HAVE A STRANGE RELATIONSHIP BUT WE’RE COMFORTABLE WITH IT AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT… OKAY!!”

This is a picture of me and my buddy:

Yeah… my buddy is a wart… what’s your point?

This little wart buddy of mine is (I’m assuming) a male wart judging by it’s pale color, stiff nature, deep voice and penchant for telling crass jokes.  So… I named him Clark.

Ha ha!  That Clark tells some pretty good jokes!

What my wife doesn’t know was that before we were together… I raised Clark from the moment he first became apparent on my arm and he kept me company in times where I had no one to talk to.  Now… just because I have a great life with a beautiful daughter, a beautiful wife, good friends and a good job doesn’t mean I’m going to go to a wart specialist and get Clark removed and pretend like he was never there! 

He’s been with me for many of my more memorable moments…

Like when DLG was born… there he is! Right there!  Under my watch!

Or when Bunny and I discovered a chicken nugget that looked like a heart at this wedding we were at!  He and I laughed about that for days!

Or most recently when we rang in the New Year and the new decade together!

 

Now this is before Clark was ever in my life.  I could have used a buddy then.

We even got to take a tour of the Boulevard Brewery in Kansas City!  It’s our favorite!

Clark had this real funny idea for DLG and I to put on moustaches… it turned out really funny.  We didn’t have a small enough moustache for him or he would have been in this picture too.

Real friends don’t forget their buddies.

One of mine just happens to be a  hideous, flakey wart named Clark who has a fantastic personality.  Deal with it.

 

Miley Cyrus: Teen Pop Star… Or Prophet?

Once in a lifetime… there comes a person who can spin words in such a way to make all of humankind stop doing what they’re doing… and just listen.  The words seem to spin a weave of honey and hit your ears with the comfort that a soft springtime shower hits the window pane next to your bed on a lazy Saturday morning.  These people inspire you.  They lift you up and make you feel like you can conquer the world.  They can make you laugh, they can make you cry and they can make you feel as though you’ve just been squirted through your mother’s cervix again… life is beginning for you once again.  These people are truly touched by God… and have a gift.

Moses commanded the Red Sea to part… and it did!!

Abraham Lincoln (I’ve read) was a great public inspirational speaker whose speeches still stir audiences today.

James Earl Jones’ voice make the floor vibrate thus capturing your attention right away.

When Marvin Gaye sings ”Let’s Get It On”, you want to make love regardless of the consequences.

When Miley Cyrus sings… everything goes in slow motion… or at least that’s what it feels like to me.

She’s truly a once in a lifetime talent

One of the most recent songs penned by this Earth Angel, “The Climb”, makes me want to fly to the moon.  Allow me to recite some of its brilliance for you:

There’s always gonna be another mountain
I’m always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose

Ain’t about how fast I get there
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb

The struggles I’m facing
The chances I’m taking
Sometimes might knock me down
But no, I’m not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I’m gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep going

And I, I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on

‘Cause there’s always gonna be another mountain
I’m always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose

Ain’t about how fast I get there
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb, yeah!

I love the last part:  ”YEAH”! I need a hug!  I’m crying now!

How deep!  How amazingly intuitive!  How wise beyond her years!  How… prophetic!

Miley Cyrus is hands down the most talented little girl in the history of the music industry.  I still can’t believe how someone so young (she’s 17! right?) has a handle on her life so well that she can write a song about life and the difficulties one has to endure and relate it to “climbing up a mountain”!  I mean… that’s genius!

After DLG was born I often found myself floundering… trying to relate my life to something people would understand.

A hot air balloon?  No.

A cinnamon pastry?  No.

A pair of Gene Simmons’ used underpants?  No.

Let’s see… how can I compare my life to these?

Before I could come up with anything… Miley beat me to the punch.  When I heard the song the first time… my knees buckled:

“Of course!  My life is like an uphill climb on a mountain!” I thought, “when I reach the top I look back and I’m not worried about how I got here…it’s ‘The Climb!’”

She superbly expresses the difficulties she’s had in her life and relates them to climbing up a mountain!  You can’t get a better, well thought out similarity than that!

YOU SING IT GIRL!  BELT IT OUT!  YEAH!!  MAKE THAT MOUNTAIN YOUR BITCH!!

What kind of tragedy must have followed her in her life where she felt the need to pen such lyrics that rips her soul wide open?  I will never know what it would be like growing up with tons of money my dad made from singing some crappy country song. 

Who would have known this troglodyte could have created such a beautiful creature capable of transcending time and space

I will never know what it would be like to have my dad sell his soul to Disney to get me my own show for my alter ego named “Hannah Montana”.  I’ll never know what it was like to make more money at the age of 15 than most men bring home to their families in a lifetime.  I will never know what it was like to be so incredibly lucky that despite my inability to sing, act or even be remotely awesome… I’m known and revered worldwide for my singing, acting and the illusion of how awesome I am. 

How transparent and sacrificial she is for pouring her life out to her followers and then telling us how to view our life… no matter how we got there… from the mountaintop.  Truly incredible and prophetic stuff.

Quick note: this post is meant to be taken sarcastically.  In no way do I want Miley Cyrus to live past her 20th birthday.

 

DLG Saves Daddy From The Scary Man

Once upon a time there was a girl named Daddy’s Little Girl…

She loved her Daddy and how he played with her all the time…

One particular evening while Mommy was away at bible study… DLG and Daddy were watching Yo Gabba Gabba…

Suddenly… there was a knock at the door!

The dogs barked.  A lot.

“SHUT UP!!!” Daddy said.

Then Daddy got up and told DLG to “stay right there” while he saw who was at the door…

Daddy went to the front door and opened it to find a very scary looking man.

“I’m here to take your whole DVD collection!” The scary man said.

“Like hell you are!” Daddy said.

Before Daddy could close the door, the bad man punched him in the face.

Then the scary man shoved a baseball bat into his stomach.

Since Daddy doesn’t have a six-pack yet… that hurt really bad and he was consequently out of breath.

While he was bending over… the scary man kicked him in the face.

Daddy was subsequently laid out.

DLG continued to watch Yo Gabba Gabba during the whole altercation.

“What is this?” The scary guy said.  “This looks hilarious!”  So the scary guy started to watch it too.

After a while, the scary guy noticed that DLG was holding some raisins in a little bowl.

“I’m just going to take these from you without having any regard for the fact that I’m a large grown man and you’re a baby who could never possible fend for yourself.” Said the scary guy.

As the scary man grabbed for the raisins… DLG grabbed his hand and twisted it.

 She twisted them so hard she broke the index and middle fingers clean off the scary mans hand!

Then she slapped the living hell out of him.  So hard that he was knocked to the floor.

 As soon as he hit the floor… she jumped high in the air…

 … and landed square in the middle of the scary mans neck.

Unable to breath… the scary man was knocked out.

Then DLG woke Daddy up from getting knocked out.  He and DLG then took the scary man and dumped him in the river behind the house.  Then they both went back to watching Yo Gabba Gabba.

THE END