Monthly Archives: July 2010

A Random Compilation Of Photos I Love… And One Of My Melting Neck


My creative juices are lacking any sort of flow right now… so this is all you get…

View All Photos | DORKS OF THE WORLD UNITE!!!  And drink tea. | Papa Koenig

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time then you’ve more than likely seen this picture.  Yes.  I was an INCREDIBLE dork!

View All Photos | Me.  My beer. My recliner. My dog.  My TV.  Life is good. | Papa Koenig

Santa needs a beer…

View All Photos | My friend: Captain America.  He'll kick your ass.  Don't piss him off. | Papa Koenig

Although Captain America isn’t my favorite superhero he looks fabulous in tight spandex

View All Photos | That's broccoli in your eye | Papa Koenig

Back when I had a horrible eye fungus…

View All Photos | The lesser known sport of

The lesser known sport of “Cat Rodeo”

View All Photos | Playing with my daughter... | Papa Koenig

Back before we had a kid… we had a dog.  Wait… we still have a dog!  Where is that damn dog?

View All Photos | A very rare, heart shaped chicken strip... it's available on Ebay | Papa Koenig

A heart-shaped chicken strip… and me with a goatee.  This concludes the only time you’ll ever see both of these things in the same picture again.

View All Photos | Enjoying each other at our favorite restaurant: The Melting Pot. | Papa Koenig

Our first night out after we found out we were pregnant.  And a really awesome photo of my chipstrap goatee.

View All Photos | John Lovitz in the flesh (that's the same shirt he wore in Rat Race) | Papa Koenig

Jon Lovitz is the most famous person I’ve ever met… give me a break…

View All Photos | A very oiled, swollen Carrot Top and my wife at the Gap | Papa Koenig

… But he’s not the most famous person Bunny has ever met…

View All Photos | I coulda been in the majors... oh well... | Papa Koenig

My hot wife and I in the Texas Ranger’s dugout… time to make a baby

View All Photos | I don't like Jon Lester... just because he pitches for the Red Sox | Papa Koenig

Aaaaaaaaand I hate the Red Sox…

View All Photos | Mmmm... Yorkie heads are very high in protein.. | Papa Koenig

Carve me up one of them Yorkie burgers… they’re better than the raw deal

View All Photos | There's a skid mark in my pants... great moment I will never forget though | Papa Koenig

Again, if you’ve been reading my stuff for any length of time… you’ve probably seen this picture.  It’s one of my favorites for sure.  It brings all the memories rushing back.

View All Photos | Absolutly beautiful smile... | Papa Koenig

She was just learning to smile…

Feelin’ the love with my much older brothers…

Perhaps the most stupendous picture ever taken of DLG and I

Life doesn’t get much better…

Just a great family photo: DLG doesn’t get much cuter, Bunny doesn’t get much hotter and I don’t get much more pale

Okay… so this pair of eyes aren’t one of my favorite pictures… rather the whole picture is my FAVORITE picture of Bunny.  For my 30th birthday she had some boudoir photographs done.  Yeah… they were awesome but all I’m allowed to show you are her eyes… and that’s probably too much because your brain has probably already exploded.  Mine has just cropping the picture.

Honestly… they don’t make ’em much cuter…

I could go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on with pictures… but I’ll spare you the torture and just show you one last one:

I know what you’re saying, “What’s so interesting about this picture?”  Well… allow me to zoom in on something for you:

Tell me something… WHAT THE EFF IS GOING ON WITH MY NECK!!  It’s like… melting!!  How did I do that!!  I’ve tried to recreate this “melting neck” picture several times and I CAN’T!!  It’s very upsetting to me.  In fact… I really don’t know why I’m showing it to you and all cyberspace… oh yeah… because I don’t care.  That’s right.

Have a good neck-melting weekend my friends.

Papa K’s Top Five Chick Flicks That Won’t Result In Having To Remove Your Balls If You Watch Them


We’ve all had this conversation with our estrogen-enriched counterparts: 

“Let’s watch ‘Zombieland’!” 

“No… we watched your movie last time!” 

“What!?  We watched 2012…. I thought you wanted to see that movie! “ 

“No.  You picked it out and I said it was ‘okay’… you didn’t rent that movie for me!  You’d been wanting to see that movie forever!” 

“Well… yes, but I got it because I wanted a movie YOU could enjoy too!  Zombieland looks awesome!  You’d like it!” 

“No. No I wouldn’t… I want to watch ‘Valentine’s Day’.” 

“Ugh.  Just rip off my testicles now… it’ll be more enjoyable.” 

Unless you’re blessed with having a spouse or girlfriend that actually enjoys sitting through “The Terminator” or “Gladiator” or some other movie that makes your testosterone rocket through the top of your skull then you’ve had to endure sitting through what’s classically known as “The Chick Flick”.  

What’s upsetting is that sometimes, about halfway through the movie, I find myself actually engrossed in the film!  So, in order to make myself feel better, I’m going to list my top five chick flicks that you don’t have to get your balls cut off for watching (we’ll do a list for those movies that will require you to remove your testicles some time later). 

5.  Serendipity 

 

John Cusack has the romantic comedy market covered (Say Anything, Must Love Dogs, etc.).  In this Rom-Com chick flick, John finds himself opposite the always stunningly beautiful Kate Beckinsale (one good reason it’s a good choice for manly men to watch it) in a story about how fate is only how you make it.  

In the movie, after just meeting each other, John’s character finds himself struck with the love bug for Kate… only when a gust of wind blows away her number that’s scrawled on a small scrap of paper is when Kate’s character begins to believe that fate interceded.  One final push on the part of him to just write her number down again results in her convincing him that if they are meant to be together then fate will indeed bring them back into each others lives.

Blah blah blah… I know… sounds a little too mushy, pooshy, cutesy, wootsy for most dudes.  I honestly can’t tell you a good reason, as a dude, that I liked this movie… but I did.  It was clever, witty, funny and cute.  Wait… did I just say cute?  I mean… it’s rockin’ awesome cool.

4. The Father of the Bride 

 

 I first watched this movie when I was about thirteen or so and even at that age I felt like I was going to eventually be the same kind of father that Steve Martin is in the movie.  I will fall nothing short of a crazed buffoon meandering around wondering what the hell happened to my little girl, when I became so damn old and when would be a good opportunity to KILL that asshole boy that’s stealing my little girl away from me!

TFOTB shouldn’t really be classified as a “chick flick” per se… or at least I don’t think it should.  Rather… I think it should be recommended watching for all dad’s who have daughters because it really is quite funny.

On a separate note, Steve Martin plays a father so well in this movie (and others like “A Simple Twist Of Fate” and “TFOTB2”) that I’m really shocked he never became a father himself!  Hey Steve… it’s never too late!

3.  First Knight 

 

There would be an argument in certain circles as to if this is actually a “chick flick”.  I say it is because it takes place in medieval times, there’s a damsel in distress(Julia Ormond), a brooding old king who’s in love with her (Sean Connery) and Richard Geere with long hair that he flips around a lot in slow motion sword fights. 

Definitely a “chick flick”.

But despite these qualifying points… it also has some nifty fight scenes that make up for the gooshy smoochy parts.  Especially the ending fight scene right after Sean Connery gets shot with several arrows and yells “Camelot LIVES!” before falling to the ground.  Ooooooh man.  That really pisses a lot of people off. 

A scene from “First Knight”

BONUS:  Julia Ormond in the rain… all wet… looking forlorn…

2.  The Princess Bride 

 

  

My sister knows the dialogue in this movie from beginning to end.  Needless to say it’s her favorite movie (I think).  I can’t go so far as to say it’s my favorite movie… or really in my top ten!  But it’s definitely a must-see.  Despite it’s “silly non-dudetastic” simple movie title that may turn most dudes away from it entirely… it’s actually quite hilarious!

Starring Cary Elwes in perhaps his least douchey movie (Saw? Twister?) and Robin Wright (Penn?  Is she still married to Sean Penn?) the movie takes place in a young boys (a Wonder Years’ Fred Savage) imagination as his grandfather reads him a book by the same name. 

The movie lends itself to moments of lovey, dovey, smoochyness… but with its biting wit, fight scenes and a cameo by Billy Crystal… it’s got something for everyone.

1.  Ghost 

   

 Alright.  I don’t know how much crap I’m gonna receive for this one… but I liked “Ghost”.  Despite it’s kind of simplistic views of Heaven and Hell (all “good” people go to Heaven and all “bad” people go to Hell) it again felt like it was something I would do… if in fact there was some way to bypass going to Heaven (I hope… if I wanted to) while I sorted out some last-minute Earthly issues.

If revenge is in the synopsis of any movie, it’s guaranteed to strike a chord with moviegoers.  “Ghost” is exactly that… wrapped up in a squishy, squeezey, cuddley, romantic movie package.  You don’t have to give up your testicles to watch it. 

But you might need a few tissues.

If you’re a girl.

A’hem!

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What “chick flicks” are “Dude Approved”?  Tell me.  I want to know what I missed.

The Second Push


When I was young pup of about eleven or twelve years, with stars in my eyes and a life full of really nothing more than looking forward to the next time I could escape to Blockbuster and rent another Salma Hayek movie… I wanted to be an actor.  My parents only had (and still have) a 13-inch television of which only got four channels (five on a clear day).  I religiously watched The Late Show with David Letterman and could envision myself sitting in the chair next to Dave chatting away about my next movie, what I thought about being voted People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” or what tabloid rumors about me were untrue.

Problem was I was painfully shy.  Locked away within my inner recesses lay a talent only I know is worth taking a chance on.

“Hey man…if you’ve got the talent, then just go make it happen!” you might feel like saying to me.  Yeah yeah… I know… I’ve heard it before.

Truth is… life happens.  Life happens and your dreams get passed on to your next of kin.  I already have high aspirations for DLG.  She’s got the look:  those eyes, that smile and the innocence in the way she imitates my daily activities that are devoid of the stresses that fill up an adults daily activities.  These are all qualities I see, as a father, that make her impending celebrity an opportunity for me to gush with pride as well as cry with limitless abandon.

But the truth of the matter is… my opportunity is not over.  Although my opportunity at becoming the next Keanu Reeves is probably far from becoming a reality, I have many other opportunities at making my indelible mark on society.

I could write a screenplay!

I could write a book!

I could invent a time-traveling machine!

I could beat up the cast of Jersey Shore!

I could imitate Milton Berle with uncanny accuracy!

Or… I could be the greatest dad the world has ever known… which would indeed be the greatest accomplishment of my life.

You know… sometimes life doesn’t quite work out the way you envisioned it… but all the better because it probably wasn’t what you were meant to do anyway.

But…………………………………………………. just in case I am destined for stardom (or anything remotely close), I’ve created a method of making yourself a donor of some of my excess fame and fortune.  It’s called my Fanroll, and you can get to it by clicking here, here or here.

Several people have reaped the benefits of contributing to the Fanroll and here’s what they’ve had to say:

Mandal said: “The minute I submitted my picture to Papa K’s Fanroll… I become the most famous dude in Canada.  I don’t have time to talk though because now I have to go help women have their babies.  Flip mode.”

These two girls don’t have anything to say… because they’re too busy TANNING ON THE DECKS OF THEIR YACHTS THEY BOUGHT AFTER WINNING THE LOTTERY!!!  AFTER SUBMITTING THEIR PICTURE TO MY FANROLL!!!

Good things happen to those who submit.

I don’t care how dense you may be or how much you think I may be kidding (because I am)… but they only thing you won’t get from submitting to my Fanroll quite frankly… is AIDS. 

Also… if you submit a picture to my Fanroll… I will send you this autographed picture of myself free of charge:

Seriously… I’ve never been more serious… seriously… I’ll seriously do it… I’m serious.

All you gotta do is send me a picture of yourself to papak4324@live.com with a sign reading “I Read Hands To War” and some funny quip following it like, “I Read Hands To War… But only because I have crabs” or “I Read Hands To War because I love his chinstrap goatee” or ” I Read Hands To War because he makes me feel alive again” or “I Read Hands To War because I’m Kim Kardashian and he talks about me all the time”, etc.

Think to yourself, “What other more important things are there in this world than submitting my picture to Papa K’s Fanroll?  It’s fun, it’s easy… and I got something to promote.  OKAY… I’LL DO IT!  Hell… I might even become famous someday!  He might remember me when he gets on the Late Show with David Letterman.”

The answer is, “Nothing… nothing is more important.”

I’ll send you an autographed picture of myself.  I’m serious.

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POSTSCRIPT: If you pay really close attention… you might be able to tell at what point in this post I went from deep and reminiscent to full-fledged “idiot-buzzed” off my six-pack of beer.

The Six Stages Of Getting Tattooed


All of my (6) readers may remember this post where I asked your opinion on what tattoo I should get next.

My idea of getting “Est. 1979” across the top of my back was pretty much universally hated… that’s fine… I appreciate the advice.

This idea = poop

I also wanted to continue the work it would take to complete my Marvel superhero leg sleeve with an additional character: The Hulk

“HULK SMASH YOUR FACE WITH STRETCHY PANTS”

The majority of you liked the idea of me taking the plunge to continue the work on my leg sleeve.  I can’t say that I would blame you guys for wanting me to do that.  I, of all people, am ready for the damn thing to be finished.

But, in the end, I wound up going with my idea that was commented on the least!  I don’t know if everyone thought the tattoo was ridiculously tacky to get or if everyone just thought that I must have thrown it in there as sort of means to push you into commenting strongly towards one of the other ideas.

Truth being, I’ve wanted this tattoo to come to fruition for a long time.

So I set the appointment.

I’ve been tattooed enough now to be familiar with the six stages I go through in the time preceding, during and after getting tattooed.

Stage 1:  Excitement

Usually happens on the drive over to the shop.  Realizing that my body is going to be forever changed is somewhat of a rush.  I get a little bored looking at the same old skin in the mirror every morning.  I also have this (rather warped I suppose) idea that tattoos make me cooler, sexier or a more like a Billy Badass.

Stage 2:  Fear

This happens when I’m sitting there watching my tattoo artist ritualistically prepare his work area with all the necessary sanitary elements and remove all the needles from their packaging and snap them into his tattoo guns.  What a lot of people do know, whether you’ve had a tattoo or not, is that getting tattooed hurts!  As much as people may sugar-coat it with promises of minimal pain… they’re lying.  In addition to the anticipation that comes with unescapable pain comes some second-guessing: “Is this really what I want?  I mean… it’s going to be on my body forever!!”

Stage 3:  Pain

This time I had my ribs done.  I’d heard from all circles that getting your ribs tattooed hurts the worse.  So, before the needle hit my skin for the first time, the anticipation for the onslaught of 2+ hours of dull, grating pain to a tender area like your ribs… is mind-blowing.

Perhaps I was prepared for the worst… because it didn’t hurt as bad as I had anticipated.  But it still hurt like a sonofabitch.

Stage 4:  Closing Minutes SUPER Pain

This usually happens during the last ten minutes or so.  I can see that there’s only a few more areas to shade in or perhaps a tad more shadowing has to go in to provide a little more depth.  The end is near.  I can see the finish line.  And my skin starts to lose some of its (what I would describe as) mind-induced protection. 

You see, the brain is a powerful thing, in the minutes preceding a tattoo, it’s almost as if your brain can talk your skin into “dulling” itself.  It prepares your nerve endings for the hellish hours of tattooing by “ratcheting” down the pain scale a little bit.  It makes the pain more bearable.  But… in the closing minutes, it’s almost as if your brain gets the memo to “return nerve endings to normal pain capacity” too soon and you feel EVERYTHING at its worst.  Those final ten minutes are the most painful.

Stage 5:  Complete Relaxation

When I hear the snap of my artist’s rubber gloves being removed and he says, “Alright, why don’t you take a look”… my asshole immediately returns to its normal flaccid self, my back stops being clenched, I quit scrunching my nose as if I’d just repeatedly stubbed my toe and my stomach stops tightening as when I (don’t ever) do sit-ups.

Post-tattooing relaxation is better than sex. 

Okay… maybe not but it’s pretty close.

Stage 6:  Post Tattoo Euphoria (Or Regret)

Finishing a tattoo gives me some sort of feeling of accomplishment… although I don’t know why because I didn’t really do anything but sit there and get prodded with a sharp needle repeatedly over 5,000 times.  The image you have in your mind of what the tattoo is going to look like plastered on your body will either be everything you’d hoped for (maybe more) or a raging disappointment.  If you’ve been tattooed enough you know better how to avoid the latter.  But if you don’t know what you’re doing or didn’t do your research beforehand you could wind up with something like this:

A far cry from what I came away with yesterday:

 

She’s a baseball girl.  A Texas Rangers baseball girl at that derived from a bit of art I’ve admired for a while:

There’s still work to be done.  The flesh tones and the blue hat along with some shading here and there will round it out.  Also… I want to make her boobs bigger.  I’m kidding.  I had to leave the session early because it was DLG’s bedtime and I had to get home to put her down so it will be another couple of weeks or months before you’ll get to completely see the finished product.

Now that I’m done with the six stages I can admire the handwork from every angle, every position and scrutinize it to the 1000th degree.  I’m actually very pleased with what I got… it fulfilled my expectations and probably exceeded them a little bit.

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I  look forward to your comments i.e. “I HATE IT!!” or “I LOVE IT” or “I’M DISOWNING YOU” (probably from my mother). 

Your tattooed piece of white trash:

Papa K

Papa K’s Top Five Movies Where It’s Okay To Cry


When I was 13 or 14 I cried in Disney’s animated Tarzan.  I know… you’re thinking, “Holy mounds of whale dung get ahold of yourself!”  I’ve always been somewhat of a sensitive guy.  In fact, I’m a card-carrying member of the five “S” group: Strong,Silent, Sexy, Silly, Buoyant and Sensitive.  Okay, wait… I mean the five “S” and one “B” group.

Whatever.

Anyway, the list I’ve compiled aren’t “chick flicks”.  “Chick Flicks” that are okay for dudes to watch (albeit with your girlfriend or wife) like “The Notebook”, “Time Travelers Wife”, etc., are going to get their own list.  These are movies marketed either towards guys or specifically not just ladies.  Unless you’re an emotionless tube of diaper cream… these movies have to move you in some way.  In any case… these are the TOP FIVE MOVIE’S IN WHICH I SHED A TEAR and not felt like a pansy in doing so!

5.  Dead Man Walking

 

“Dead Man Walking” is about a nun (Susan Saradon) who accepts the very dubious task of being a convicted killer’s (Sean Penn) chaplain the final week of his life before he’s sent to his state-ordered execution. 

I remember going to see this movie with my brother and crying so hard that one of my contacts washed back into my eye socket.  It took me a good 30 minutes to work the damn thing out.  I thought my body was going to just absorb it if I didn’t get it out quickly.

The acting is great in this one.  Sean Penn plays a great white-trash P.O.S. and Susan Saradon plays an equally good, saintly nun.  They make for a very odd pair… yet the emotions emanating from the both of them the closer it comes to his execution gets you right in the gut.  It also doesn’t favor one side over the other (i.e. for the death penalty or against the death penalty) but rather leaves you to make up your own mind.

4.  Marley And Me

Adapted from the book written by Josh Groban of the same name, Marley and Me tells the story of the lessons you can learn during the most pivotal moments in your life with “man’s best friend”… even if he can be a total pain in the ass sometimes.

I watched Marley and Me when it came out on video… and it’s a good thing because I may just been the most blubbering doofus in the whole movie theater once the credits rolled.  Bunny had fortunately fallen asleep when the end of the movie approached and I was sensing a heart wrenching outcome… so, when the outcome came to fruition… I just let it go.  I cried until I was soaking in a puddle of my own tears.

3.  The Passion of the Christ

People… Mel Gibson has officially gone absolutly bat-poop crazy…

Now that we’ve gotten that out-of-the-way it shouldn’t detract from the fact that this movie, despite all the controversy surrounding it, is the most realistic movie depicting Jesus’ final hours that’s ever been made.  While you may ask yourself, “Why would I want to see all that?”  I’ll tell you the answer really is, “You don’t!” but if you never truly understood the agony endured by one man in an effort to prove His point… then you will after watching this movie.

2.  Forrest Gump

C’mon… who hasn’t seen Forrest Gump? 

With a movie that has more one-liners than Arnold Schwartzenegger’s one-liner resume, Tom Hanks plays Forrest Gump who goes through his whole life loving the same woman unconditionally.  During which, he changes the lives of others, meets several US presidents and makes millions of dollars in the shrimpin’ business.

Forrest Gump doesn’t just make grown men cry, it also kept my brother awake for the whole movie… and that’s a huge complement to the movie itself.  A movie hardly makes it through the opening credits and he’s asleep.  Not in Forrest Gump… it endeared itself to him until the very end.

1.  Rudy

The most troubling part of this movie being number one on this list is that I don’t even like football!  Regardless, Rudy speaks to the inspirational part of all of us despite if we like football or not. 

Based on a true story, Rudy was the quintessential underdog: too little, too dumb and too poor to accomplish his dream of playing football for Notre Dame.  No one believed in Rudy except for Rudy himself… and by the end of the movie, if you’ve ever wanted to be a major league baseball player an astronaut or Miss America… er… I mean a firefighter then Rudy will have you believing you can do it.  All you need is a heart the size of Texas.

Oh yeah… and when Rudy finally plays in his first, last and only Notre Dame football game… I’m standing up, clapping and sobbing like a colicky newborn baby.

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What movies (that aren’t “chick flicks”) make you cry?

Dude… Owen Wilson’s Nose Is Jacked


Don’t get me wrong… I love the guy and I know he broke his nose several times but seriously…

Also… don’t stay up late watching “Behind Enemy Lines” with him in it.  Not good.  In fact… quite terrible.

Home Is Where Your Story Begins


A frequent reader of mine suggested some time back that I get Bunny to write her birth story.  So, on our trip back from Boca Raton, Bunny finally humored me and banged out what you’re about to read.  Turns out the timing turned out to be rather impecable: DLG was born two years ago TODAY!  For those of you that are slow… that would make today her second birthday!!  Today mommy and daddy are very excited to take her to our (can two years in a row be traditional?) traditional trip to Toys R Us (because daddy has almost as much fun there are she does).

So sit back, relax, reminise and enjoy my beautiful wife’s first submission to this little crappy blog.

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It was the eve of Tuesday, July 15, 2008. We had our house sitter all lined out and she arrived at 6 PM so we could go over all the duties of watching the dogs and cat while we were at the hospital. We decided I should commemorate the final night pre-baby with a dinner out at Earls BBQ.  It’s so stereotypical of an Oklahoman to want to eat BBQ… but I must preface by saying I NEVER liked BBQ for 26 years until I got pregnant. I CRAVED their curly fries and fried okra..it made me and baby-to-be very happy.  So we dined at Earls with our beloved friend, Meggie, and talked about the days the come.  Little caveat…we had no friggin’ clue what was to come…just sugarplums dancing in my head…pure bliss dreaming of my baby I had baked inside me for 9 months.

After we got home from Earls, I went over my list of “things to pack for the hospital” and confirmed that each item was neatly placed in the suitcase. I decided to take one last picture with my neighbor who at the time was 6 weeks away from delivering her baby. We were pregnant together…and truly have done everything together since. 

Haley….our lives are forever changed because we moved to 9th street across from you.

Chris… I mean “Papa K”… and I decided to go to bed at a reasonable hour granted that we were to arrive at the hospital at 6 AM for an induction!!  Can you believe that!!  My last night to get any sort of sleep for the rest of my life and I had to arrive at 6 AM!!

A little after 2 AM on Wednesday, July 16, 2008 I got up to use the bathroom and after finishing the chore… something else kept coming.  I sat there relaxed and thought, “Okay… is this what I think it is?”  I always heard the horror stories of it happening in bed and the sheets are soaked, so how convenient it happened while I was on the toilet!  So I sit there thinking, “Okay God… it’s GO TIME!”

We had the bags all packed so we left a little earlier than expected. We got on the turnpike and headed to Lakeside Hospital in OKC which is about a 20 minute drive. We arrived and it was a bit surreal.  The nurses had no sense of urgenct and were very casual about all of it.  They immediately admitted us to this VERY NICE LDRP (for those of you that aren’t clinical: Labor Delivery Recovery and Postpartum) room.  It was grand in size and looked very cozy. The nurse assigned to us was FANTASTIC, sweet as sweet can be, very gentle and kind.  I immediately felt at ease.  She checked “south of the border” and said I was dilated to a two and she wasn’t 100% sure that my water had even broken.  We later found out that I must have had a small tear that caused the “gush” I had while sitting on the toilet.  

Daddy looks blissfully unaware…

The pitocin started around 5 AM and things progressed quickly.  I wanted my family arrive after 9 AM because the nurses assured us it would be at least after 10 AM until the baby would arrive.  So, Papa K and I tried to sleep a bit since it was 5 AM!  They asked me around 6 AM if I was ready for my epidural…I said with confidence that was not necessary.  I wanted to wait for my OB to arrive.

No more than 30 minutes later the contractions began and I was “beggin” for the epidural.

The anesthesiologist arrived VERY quickly. He was a tall man, had to be late 40’s.  He apparently was woken from sleep and hadn’t even showered to come to my rescue.  How nice of him, eh?  Guess since he is paid HUGE amounts of money then it’s worth it for him to get out of bed.  He was fairly gentle although I did twitch a bit when the needle entered my spine.  The pain subsided and I was hooked up to a catheter.  The progression happened fairly quickly. 

My grandmother, aunt and mom arrived after 9 AM and they were all civil.  It was made VERY clear the only person in my room would be my husband, this was our moment together and we wanted to keep it very personal.

So the nurse came in to check me at NOON and said nothing but everyone starting bustling in to arrange the room for delivery. It was evident that it really was go time. My family was asked to leave and I was asked to begin pushing.  I must share that I worked out SO VIGOROUSLY throughout my entire pregnancy in preparation for this moment.  I would get on the elliptical at the gym for 45+ minutes. We had a walking contest at my work and I walked 18,000 steps in ONE DAY.  Do the math people… that’s a lot miles.  I beat most of the other team members each day because I worked out religiously. I was so dedicated to my work out because everyone said “it will be so helpful in labor and your weight will melt off”.  So I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed.  I pushed for over 2 hours..I kept saying, “Okay, you worked out all this time… you can do it!”  But NO ONE ever warned me it would be back-to-back pushing with literally NO BREAK!  

Finally after the 2+ hours of pushing the nurse said we are not experiencing progress, the baby was lodged in the birth canal.  She asked if I wanted to continue to push or go to c-section.  I was so exhausted all I could do was cry.  I bawled with my husband at my side holding my hand and head and crying with me.  He knew it was not what I wanted.  We made a decision based on my exhaustion that I would go for c-section (a decision I have regretted for the last 2 years). 

We waited around 40 minutes for my OB to arrive at the OR (Operating Room) and they wheeled me down.  I passed my family in the hallway who gave me looks of encouragement (they knew it wasn’t part of my plan).  I was in tears and devastated. I arrive in the OR and they separate my husband from me to get him in the “gear” that is required.  He finally arrives in the OR after 20 minutes..the loneliest 20 minutes I ever experienced. You see I have unique circumstance, I have NEVER relied on my Mom for emotional support and my husband is my rock.  Props to Papa K for always being my lifeline!  

Tender moment together…

The operation began and before long we were looking over the curtain at our baby.  Story was born at 3:32 PM on Wednesday, July 16, 2008. 

Seconds old…

Papa K’s first diaper change… he was clueless!!

So tiny.  So beautidul.

That night after delivering our precious one was memorable.  No one had warned me the c-section would put me in such pain or I would have to endure my cervix contracting when nursing.  I thought I was dying. Papa K thought they had left some surgical tool inside me and was convinced he was going to be a “single dad” for the rest of his life.  The nurse kept coming in and giving me more morphine… LOTS OF IT.  Finally it was decided to quit giving it to me intravenously and was given a pill that did the trick.  But the pain of my cervix contracting was way worse than any contraction I had during labor. It was AWFUL!!! 

The following two days in the hospital were actually pretty comfortable although Papa K didn’t enjoy sleeping on the fold out bed and had a constant headache which the nurses had to sneak Tylenol to him.

This is my birth story of STORY our precious first-born who was spunky from the minute she arrived.

Thank you God for this most amazing gift.  You are indeed everything we’d ever dreamed of. 

Happy birthday beautiful baby girl… the time has gone by so fast…

Happy birthday our beautiful baby girl… from your Mommy and Daddy.  We love you so much.

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Want to wish DLG a Happy Birthday and/or contratulate Bunny on her first guest post and/or join the Papa K fan club and/or buy our house?  Leave a comment buster.

You Ain’t Rich Until You’re Boca Raton Rich


“Excuse me sir, those umbrellas are only available for daily rentals”.

I had just walked to a standing pile of huge umbrellas meant to be used as shade from the Florida sun which, if you didn’t know, stands a mere 100 feet above your scalp as opposed to anywhere else on this Earth.  This comment made me stop, mid-stride, en route to my previously acquired position on the beach.

“Oh… I’m sorry how much are they?” I said to the young man who addressed me among four other bronzed cabana boys.

“Twenty dollars a day,” replied the beach slave who our hotel hired to add to their massive amount of subservient worker bees.

“Uh… okay.  Forget it.” I said, realizing I’d just tagged myself as not being a trust fund baby, dot-com millionaire, young entrepreneur or simply some lucky bastard whose parents just happened to have a gazillion dollars.  You see… twenty dollar bills are what the ridiculously affluent use to wipe their butt or pick up that dead bug they just smashed with their shoe.

I could almost hear them snickering and commenting to each other as I slinked away sans umbrella, “Ha.  Poor dude can’t even shell out for a twenty-dollar umbrella rental!  He must be one of those middle class citizens!  QUICK!! TAKE A PICTURE!!”

What they didn’t know is that I had just spent $15.85 (along with my $5 Red Bull and $7 blueberry muffin) on a small vial of spray on sun-block earlier at the pool.  I didn’t need their stupid umbrella.

Nice ocean shot… and, uh… nice shot of your bag with the blueberry muffin in it dork

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Bunny approached me several months ago with an opportunity that we couldn’t pass up.  Ever since DLG had been born we’d never spent a night away from her together in over two years.  Now, her work gave her the chance to go on a trip to a woman’s conference in Boca Raton, Florida.  Our plan was that she would attend the first several days of the conference and I would simply fly up and meet her as the conference was finishing spending several extra days on the beach soaking in some extra rays of vitamin D.  It was a no-brainer.

After navigating through my steadily increasing pangs of guilt for leaving my little one at home and going off to have fun without her as well as finding suitable care for her while we were gone… I took off early in the morning last Friday to meet my wife on the sunny beaches of Boca Raton, Florida.

I didn’t like leaving DLG, but I knew that Bunny and I needed our time together and for nothing else than to recharge our batteries.  It is strange how much life changes in two short years.  At one time, we were able to do what we wanted when we wanted to do it… and now the thought of myself quietly reading a book (Me?  Read something!!) or sleeping until 10AM was extremely appealing to me.

I picked a book of the discount rack for this trip and the book happened to be “Marley And Me”.  This book was recently made into a movie with Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson.  I saw it some time ago and I must say… if you don’t cry at the end of the movie than you have no soul.  You’ll cry more than you did in any of the Twilight movies… er, I mean… at the end of Rudy. 

I began reading “Marley And Me” on the first of two plane rides I had to take to get to Bunny.

About halfway through the book and halfway through the second plane ride, author John Grogan writes about his families move to BOCA RATON, FLORIDA!!  What are the chances!!  His description that followed I must say… made me a tad uneasy:

Boca Raton was a wealthy Republican bastion largely populated with recent arrivals from New Jersey and New York.  Most of the money in town was new money, and most of those who had it didn’t know how to enjoy it without making fools of themselves.  Boca Raton was a land of luxury sedans, red sports cars, pink stucco mansions crammed onto postage-stamp lots, and balkanized walled developments with guards at the gates.  The men favored linen pants and Italian loafers sans socks and spent inordinate amounts of time making important-sounding cell-phone calls to one another.  The woman were tanned to the consistency of the Gucci leather bags they favored, their burnished skin was set off by hair dyed alarming shades of silver and platinum.

For Boca’s well-preserved women, breast implants were a virtual requirement of residency.  The younger women all had magnificent boob jobs; the older women all had magnificent boob jobs AND face-lifts.  Butt sculpting, nose jobs, tummy tucks, and tattooed mascara rounded out the cosmetic lineup, giving the city’s female population the odd appearance of being foot soldiers in an army of anatomically correct inflatable dolls.

I can’t say I was too dissapointed about the possibility of “magnifient” boob jobs around every corner… but the other stuff sounding a little extreme and probably was the authors way of making the situation a little more “colorful”.

I was wrong and I quickly came to find out we were pathetically out-of-place.

The red Kia Sephia that Bunny had been given by Enterprise Rent-A-Car didn’t quite fit in with the other Bentleys, Corvettes, Lamborghinis, ROLLS ROYCES and any number of European models you don’t see cruising down I-40 in the middle of Oklahoma too often.

A Bentley we saw AT THE MOVIE THEATER!!!

Face lifts, boobs jobs, tummy tucks and any reconstructive surgery you could think of almost seemed to be a prerequisite to staying at the hotel.  I saw a woman without a belly button.  I saw a woman with her lips stretched apart to the point where it seemed the upper part of her head just might blow off her lower jaw.  I saw my first thong on the beach… and it wasn’t what I had hoped.

Contrary to every Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue ever published… swimsuit models ARE NOT the only ones who ONLY wear thong swimsuits!  Old grandma’s wear them too.

I saw yachts (or mini-cruise ships) with boats I would barely be able to afford ON TOP of them.  A simple flip of a switch within the behemoth twice the size of my house would lower the puddle-jumper by means of an elaborate hydraulic crane into the ocean if you felt the need.

*not actual size, multiply by one million*

Perched like a parrot on his pirate master’s shoulder, this boat the size of my car waits on bated breath for his chance to dip his motor in the ocean

My tattoos stuck out as though I were that fat, creepy, greasy guy that smacks his popcorn too loud amongst all the drooling tweens at Twilight: Eclipse.  Aside from the occasional calf tattoo… I felt like Travis from Blink 182.

Don’t worry mom… it’ll never get this bad…

It was becoming rapidly apparent that John Grogan wasn’t exaggerating and we just might have, quite innocently, stumbled into a hotel and resort only frequented by the SUPER RICH in a town that itself was rich as SHIT!!.  This was, after all, the hotel that the woman’s conference was being held so where else would Bunny have stayed?

Despite our feelings of insecurity every moment we pulled our Kia up to the valet (at which point I would jokingly tell the valet to “take care of my baby”) or felt that we received stares better suited for circus clowns or bears riding unicycles… we had a great time.

If anything, Boca Raton just proved to us that we could never be the rich, stuffy type.  Well… okay, wait… I guess I could say: “the SUPER rich, stuffy type”!  Who wouldn’t want to be rich!!  Who wouldn’t want to spend eternity on a beach taking pictures like this:

SCHWING!!!

Eating desserts like this:

CA-CHING!!!

Or getting your ass burnt to hell like this:

Notice the tan lines.  Remember this post?  Oh yeah baby… I’m gonna have me some fun in a couple of days!!!

Yeah… I wanna be rich.  Just not Boca Raton rich.

Or Boca Raton bitchy.

Or Boca Raton sunburnt.  Ouch.

Yeah… I’m Five… So What?


I figured out how to post an audio file to my blog from my cell phone today.  So naturally, I had to post a picture of myself lighting one of my farts… which then blows me up.

Click the audio file above for… well… audio…

Top Three Tattoos To Consider If You’re a Douche


Before I get started on this list… I’d like to point out that I have a douche tattoo:

Yes… that is a badly faded tribal scorpion that’s apparently about to pounce on my tasty, pre-cancerous mole.  Also… quit looking at my tiny nipple.  I know that it keeps staring at you but you be the bigger person and just look away.

So if you want to get mad and huffy because you may already have one of the dreaded tattoos I’m about to mention… then just remember that I have also defamed myself before getting starting.  Although… I still don’t think a tribal scorpion is anywhere near AS douchey as these.

Panther or Lion or Shark Or Dragon or Other Ravenous Beast “Ripping” Out From Underneath Your Skin:

Uh… dude… THERE’S A SMALL TIGER RIPPING THROUGH YOUR BACK!!!  HOW DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN!!! Oh… it’s a tattoo!  My bad.

I don’t really understand what’s trying to be said here.  Other than trying to “trick” the public into believing that you actually have an animal tearing out from your insides.  Perhaps someone would get it to represent being “animalistic” or perhaps they may be all calm on their exterior and have a wild beast literally screaming to be unleashed from inside their rear deltoid or from behind their spinal cord.

I suppose the notion of it is cool i.e. “cool piece of artwork made to look as though it’s actually tearing your skin”… but it doesn’t translate that way for me.  If you wanna create an optical illusion tattoo that makes someone do a double-take then try finding an artist good enough to do something like this:

While this is still a “tearing skin” tattoo it doesn’t have the same douchey qualities of a wild boar bursting from your skin… rather, it appears as though you had a horrible motorcycle accident in which your skin was raked off and *SURPRISE* you’ve got a Spiderman suit underneath there!  Well I’ll be derned…

Or this:

I’d wake up every morning screaming in fear that there was a spider on my foot big enough to cast a shadow…

Barbed Wire (Around The Bicep In Particular):

His muscle seems somewhat deflated… perhaps it was the barbed wire…

Other than Pamela Anderson… I’ve never seen this tattoo look even remotely cool on anyone else!  I believe that barbed wire was the first real cult tattoo (of my generation anyway).  I seem to remember when I was a young little jerk that a lot of people had it and I actually thought they were cool at the time! 

What happened?  Were you riding on your pet jaguar and got tangled in a fence line?  It screams “HELLO, I’M A DOUCHE”.

Superman Logo:

Not surprisingly… Googling “douchebag” brings up this guy…

Alright… I have a Marvel superhero leg sleeve so I’m not beyond wanting to get superhero stuff forever inked into my skin.  But for me,  if you’ve tattooed the superman logo on you and not just perhaps some artwork of Superman, then you’re conveying to the masses that YOU are Superman!  Who is Superman?  He’s the man of steel!  He can stop bullets with his eyeballs!  He can fly!  At the speed of light no less!  Jump tall building in a single bound and fart so hard it blows the toupee off your step-dad.  Are we all to assume, if you’ve gotten this tattoo, that you’re THAT cool!  No one is that cool my friend… not even you.

It’s also TOTALLY unoriginal.

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Now it’s your turn.  Agree with me.  Argue with me.  Offer your opinion on other tattoos.  Your two cents needed.