Monthly Archives: August 2010

Papa K Grants You The Wish Of Answering Your Questions!! Part Three


Alright ya’ll… here’s the final batch!  It’s been a blast answering all your questions!  Thanks for making me feel important!

You can read the other questions here.

———————————————————–

Erin K came up with all these…

1. What is the nastiest thing you’ve ever eaten?

I used to frequent the Denny’s close to my college campus every night after hard nights of partying.  It was here that I could reminisce on many many MANY stories… but I’ll only tell you this one.

A clouded mind is willing to do (and eat) just about anything once the taste buds have been fried by an unknown mix of fermented hops, jello shots and trashcan punch.  It was at this Denny’s where I NEVER deviated from my most favorite 3AM meal: Smothered Cheese Fries with Crumbled Bacon and Ranch Dipping Sauce.  Oh my.

I imagine Heaven is floating on clouds made of smothered cheese fries

There is nothing more scrumptious to soak up the river of alcohol coursing through your system than this fried, melty cheese covered treat.

While my group was waiting for our food, we noticed another table had just left their half eaten food for us to scavenge!  To hell with spreading vast unknown quantities of some disease capable or rotting our faces off by eating someone elses Moons Over My Hammy!  WE WERE FREAKIN’ HUNGRY DAMMIT!!

As we scarfed down this half eaten food, someone noticed the previous consumers of this food had put out a cigarette in the middle of the pile of ketchup they had used for their fries.

“Whoever eats this cigarette,” proclaimed one of my buddies, “I will pay for their meal tonight!”

Without hesitation I volunteered my gullet.  I was in college, mind you, and free meals were hard to come by.

“Do I have to chew it?” I asked.

Somewhat horrified that I was actually going to eat this used cigarette, my buddy simply said, “Naw dude… I don’t care how you do it.”

Again, without hesitation, I lapped the cigarette a few more times in the ketchup and then swallowed it.

Did I mention I was wearing a Superman suit at the time?  And… I had some really douchey sideburns.  And… my right eye starts to droop as the night goes on…

Honestly, since I didn’t have to chew it, I can’t say that it was really all that disgusting.  In a sense, I bypassed all my taste buds by shoving it into the back of my throat and then throwing it into my stomach.  I had also partied enough that night that you probably could have given me Smothered Cheese Cigarettes with Cigarette Ash and Saliva Dipping Sauce and I wouldn’t have noticed.

2. If you turned into a girl with really small boobs, and you couldn’t get a boob job for some crazy medical reason, what other female experiences would you want to try? (other than playing with your boobs all day)

So, I’m assuming I magically turned into this girl right with all my current male hormones?  I’m still THE Papa K just in a really small-boobed woman’s body… correct?  I’m going to assume that’s the case so I would first and foremost becoming a raging lesbian and if I look anything like I look now as a woman… I think it’s pretty safe to say I’d be pretty butch.

Before the Spice Girls had “Scary Spice” they had me: “Manish Spice”.

With all that being said, the differences between a really horny, hormone enriched dude and a bull dike lesbian chick with no boobs are slim (except for the plumbing).

After all that though, I’d have to say if  I wanted to experience one female experience I would probably want to get my drinks paid for at the bar… even if it was from another bull dike lesbian trying to get in my pants.

Oh… and trying to pee outside.  It looks hard for you guys!  Standing up is soooooooo much easier and fun to do when you’re trying to write your name in the snow.

3. If you had to kill someone, absolutely HAD to, what method would you choose?

Hmmm… let’s see… probably the “punch-through-the-chest-then-rip-out-their-still-beating-heart” move.

Or perhaps the “roundhouse-kick-to-the-temple-then-the-knee-slam-to-the-face-then-the-rip-of-their-spinal-cord-out-of-their-anus” move.

Or, better yet, the “double-lutz-triple-sow-cow-with-a-twist-karate-chop-to-the-testicles-(or vagina) to-distract-the-eventual-shotgun-to-the-face” move.

When all else fails… kick ’em in the nuts…

4. Are you ever going to move away from Okla-friggin-homa?

Erin… I’ve got a lot of freakin’ crazy fans out there who want a swatch of my skin for their trophy wall or lock of my hair for their voodoo doll.  Since you told them I live in Oklahoma that effectively eliminated the six other continents and 49 other states I could be living in. 

Now I’m going TO HAVE TO MOVE!  THANKS A LOT!!

5. Think of your most embarrassing moment from your childhood. Was anyone else responsible for said moment? If you could exact revenge for said moment – if it was someone else’s fault – what form would that revenge take?

Well… I’ve got no one else to blame other than myself.  I was a raging dork.  I actually wrote about it about a year and a half ago on my old blog.  If you wanna read it click this: Monkey Balls.  Or you can click the dorky picture of me and it’ll take you there:

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Yes… that’s me… with the ice tea… and the hammer pants… and the Marvin the Martian t-shirt… and the turtleneck… and the look on my face worthy of an ass-whoopin’…

(SIDENOTE: if you read the story please excuse the crappy writing… it was a year-and-a-half ago… I think I’ve improved a little at least)

6. What is your biggest regret in life? (I know we’re supposed to not have any regrets because they help us grow, blah blah blah, but we all do, so spill it).

I’m in the business of completely spilling my guts, embarrassing myself and basically holding nothing off-limits… except when it comes to this question.  So I won’t divulge much more information other than just saying what my biggest regret is:  I had a one night stand in college.  That’s it… that’s my biggest regret.

Nipping at the heels of my biggest regret… is my SECOND biggest regret.  Read about it here

7. If you could go back in time to relive one moment – not change it, just relive it, what would that moment be?

Can I choose two?  No?  Well too bad.

First, I would relive my actually wedding day on Shipwreck Beach in Kaui, Hawaii:

While it was an incredibly happy moment indeed… I wasn’t relaxed.  I was quite tense.  No more tense than I think anyone is when they get married on their wedding day.  But, knowing then what I know now, I think I could have enjoyed myself a little more.

On a separate note… does anyone notice how skinny I am (and how shiny my forehead is)?

As opposed to how I look now?

Anywayzzzzz….

Secondly, I’d relive DLG being born.  As it was when Bunny and I got married, only multiplied by about 2 million, I was very tense, stressed, worried and basically a tightly wound ball of emotions.  Knowing what I know now… I’d like to go back a relive that (as well as the first two years of her life as well!).

I may look calm… probably because I have NO IDEA what I’m about to get into.

Totally.  Completely.  Clueless… as to what I’m doing.

 

Casey Shelton asked:

If you had to take the funniest thing that ever happened to you and turn it into a porn, what would you call it?

Hmmm… how many jugs of Crown Royal mixed with Southern Comfort had you chugged before you came up with this question!?

It’s hard to narrow one particular instance as “the funniest thing” that’s ever happened to me so I guess I’ll just choose one out of the never-ending list of hilarious things that have happened to me.  I think I’ll go with peeing in a pair of shoes that belonged to my gangster neighbor.

This story mainly centers around peeing and gangsters so I guess I’d call this particular porn, “The Golden Shower Gangsters”.

There you go.  I gave my answer.  I’m not going to write a whole screenplay on how I think the movie should play out…

DCHY came up with a thoughtful one:

Have you ever given to charity? And claimed it was a bigger donation than it really was when you told your friends?

Yes… my wife and I currently give to a charity called Compassion International.  We sponsor a little boy in Ethiopia.   An amount of money is automatically withdrawn from our bank account every month to help provide for whatever he needs over there.  While I’m not going to tell you how much we give… I will promise you that WE REALLY DO GIVE to this charity and I would encourage anyone who doesn’t currently give to a charity to consider Compassion as a choice.

 

Roger asked one simple question:

Will the Rangers GO to the World series this October?

God I hope so dude.  I’ve been a fan since I was about thirteen.  After all the years of loving them… you’d think I’d receive some sort of lovin’ back!  Right?

I happen to know you’re from New York.  Are you a Yankees fan?  If you are… then you shouldn’t be because: 

 

Shelle BlokThoughts asked some hard hitting questions:

Okay… if you could be famous for one thing and one thing only… what would it be for?

Probably for this:

If you were stranded on an island and had the internet for 30 seconds… what blog would you visit because that is all it would allow you to do is read one blog? (that might be the gayest question ever)

Totally not gay because I have a totally heterosexual answer:  Kim Kardashian’s of course! 

I know I shamelessly plug her alot… but it’s part of my schpiel!  And, if anyone wants to help me out, I want to get her to plug my blog on my fanroll and my unwavering need to have her picture with me!

Cuz this one’s just not doing it for me any more…

How much money did you pay your wife to marry you and procreate?

Whoa!  Harsh question sister!  I’ll have you know I’m offended!  I think we complement each other pretty well!  You know… sometimes it’s not always what’s on the outside that matters!  I may look like an old Vanilla Ice with graying hair and a bad back… but I’ll have you know that I make her laugh EVERY DAY!  If she had married Ryan Reynolds I don’t think she would have gotten that!  Well… okay… maybe she would have… but that’s not the point!  Bunny sees something in me that all of you out there in blog land don’t… and there’s not a price you can put on that.

But to answer your question… five million dollars.  I had to get an advance on my entire inheritance.  Boy… has it been worth it!

Our agreement was that I would pay her 2.5 million to say that she would marry me… then I would pay her the other 2.5 million AFTER we were actually married.  This picture shows me giving her the last of what I promised I would give her.

Mandal (my only member-jacket wearing super fan) asked:

Have u ever regretted something u’v done? what was it? why do you regret it?

See NUMBER SIX on ERIN K’s list of questions above there brother.

What was the size of your largest booger?

unfortunately… I’ve never measured my boogers so I can’t accurately answer this question.  What I can tell you is there’s a pretty good collection of boogers under the front seat of my car where I so conveniently stash them while I’m driving.  I’ll have to go out there and see if I can wrench any of them out from underneath my seat.  Although… they might have shrunk in the heat we’ve been enduring here in Oklahoma so the measurements might not be entirely accurate.  I’m guessing my largest was somewhere between three to five feet long.

Have ever timed your farts to see how long they were and what was the longest?

No… I have not timed my farts either.  I have some sort of sick obsession with them though.

Wanna blow some time at work?  Try out the Fart Soundboard!!!  My favorites are the “Uh-Oh”, the”What are you saying?” and the “I don’t know!”

Completely third grade humor I know…

————————————————————-

So… that’s it my loves.  I want to thank everyone who participated and everyone else can go jump off a cliff.  Wait… no I didn’t mean that.  Seriously… thank you everyone for reading and asking questions.  I’ll have to do this again soon.  In what other posts can I talk about farts, Compassion International, Denny’s Cheese Fries, the Texas Rangers and what I would do if I was a chick with really small boobs!?  It’s a recipe that can’t be beat!

It Seems I Ain’t No Spring Chicken Any More


My back is killing me.

Before we were married, I used this same back to help Bunny move her washer and dryer out of her apartment and into a new apartment ALL BY MYSELF.

I used this same back to help my father clear the pastureland on our 301 acre farm back home by throwing huge branches he’d just cut down into a rapidly growing brush pile.

It was with this same back that I flipped a 530lb tire over four times in a strong man competition.

It was with this same back that helped me lift countless weight in the gym since I was thirteen years old.

This back helped me throw an 85 MPH fastball as a sophomore in high school.

This back has been there for me the last 30+ years when I’ve needed it the most.

Now… it must be really pissed at me for never giving it enough credit.  It doesn’t even let me get out of bed in the morning without making me ooze out of bed like I’m 90 years old!  Or bend over to snatch clean dishes from the dishwasher without grimacing like I’ve just stepped on a tack!  Or walk like I’m pretending to carry a watermelon between my knees!  Or take a dump without having the most spectacular posture anyone in the history of the world has ever had while taking a dump!

I very stupidly have tried to push through the pain as though it was nothing more than an annoyance to my daily activities.  Usually after I took some ibuprofen and stretched out a bit… it would feel a little better.  So what would I do?  Well… I would do something like break the coffee table with my bubble butt or rearrange the furniture or mow the lawn as fast as I could or awkwardly yank DLG out of her car seat because I didn’t want to take the time to better position myself where it wouldn’t strain my back.

The result of all this is me barely being able to lay DLG into bed without holding back the urge to yelp in pain.

I’m about to turn 31 and beginning to realize the superhuman ability I used to have that enabled me to recover from seemingly minor injuries in under 24 hours… is rapidly starting to dissipate.  I’ve been waiting over two weeks for the pain in my back to magically disappear when I get up in the morning and it hasn’t happened.

You may not realize this… but one of the prerequisites of being a full-time Dad is to have a fully functioning back.  Without it, you won’t be able to fling your kid in the air to their never-ending delight or crawl into the tunnels in the Chick-Fil-A play area to snatch your kid when they won’t cooperate or comfortably complete the simplest task of picking them up to kiss their boo-boo when they’ve hurt themself.

I wish it was the year 3010 so I could just purchase a new robotic back that included a jet-pack but since I’m stuck with the one I got then I guess I better start learning to take better care of it.  I’m gonna start by 4-wheeling to the nearest doctors office.

Healthy back = more moments like this

To All Spiders: If You Come In My House I’m Gonna Have To Eff You Up


For those of you that don’t know… when I started the “Stay-at-home-dad” gig… I only partially left my job.  I was able to come away from my full-time salary position with a part-time, work-from-home hourly position.  Because my work-from-home position requires me to put in so many hours a week I’m usually reduced to recording most of those hours in the late evening time.  It’s not rare for me to work until 1AM once DLG has gone to bed. 

“Why are you telling me all this when this post is clearly about spiders?” you may be asking yourself.

“Well,” I’ll say, “First of all… shut up.  Second of all… I’m setting up my story about spiders!”

We good?  Alright… moving on.

It was during one of these late evenings  around 12:30 AM while I was perched on the floor, with my legs under the coffee table and my laptop sitting on top of the coffee table (yes, the same one I smashed with my ass) when I spotted movement with my overly sensitive perifial vision.  It was coming from in front of the fireplace.  I swiveled my head on its axis, also known in some circles as being called “a neck”, and very nearly lost control of my sphincter.

There, very creepily mind you, was a freakin’ spider the size of coin-purse walking its happy ass in my direction.

The thought “Oh balls that is a HUGE spider” had no sooner reached my brain than I had raised my six-foot frame on my two powerful hind legs as if I was a black bear mama protecting her babies from a hunter who accidentally stumbled onto her den. 

I didn’t see the look in the spiders six beady little eyes but I could tell by his immediate reaction to my sudden defensive stance that  he was startled too as to why this giant creature was now pearing down at him.  “What… the… EFF IS THAT!!!!” I could almost hear him scream.

We both momentarily stood there staring each other down contemplating our next move.  After a few seconds of running through our options, he made the first move: a maneuver called “I’m going to get the hell out of here before that giant thing smashes me”.

Unfortunately for him… it didn’t work out so well.  I was initially impressed at how fast he tried to get back to the fireplace from whence he came but I reaped the benefit of having several magazines within an arms length of where I was.  While I’m sure I may have given him a fleeting moment of hope that he was going to be able to escape… that moment of hope was quickly dashed after I ceased his existence by giving his hairy frame a massive amount of internal and external trauma with the most recent double-issue of “Entertainment Weekly”.

Upon closer inspection of his lifeless (yet still momentarily twitching) body, I was able to discern that it was not what I feared it may have been: a Brown Recluse. 

*SHIVER*

If he had only given me more time to study the shape and color of his ass… it may have killed my sense of urgency to splatter his organs all over Harry Potters face (who appeared on the cover of Entertainment Weekly) and provided him with the few extra milliseconds it would have taken to escape to the fireplace and through whatever hole it is that these spiders keep crawling through to get into my house!  But I doubt it.

You see… if you’re a spider and you decide to come into my house… all bets are off buddy.  Your ass is grass homeboy.

Now, if you’re chillin’ in your natural habitat, which can even include THE BRICK WALLS OUTSIDE MY HOUSEI’m not going to crumple your body within the confines of an aloe-infused Kleenex.  This is because you are where you belong: outside my house.  Once you cross the threshold of what’s considered outside to what’s considered inside my house… there’s a bounty on your ugly head.  Consider yourself squished.

Let this be a warning to all you spiders out there reading this… this will be the last thing you see:

———————————————————————————-

Does anyone else hate spiders or have a good spider story?

Papa K Grants You The Wish Of Answering Your Questions (Part Two)!


Mo’ of yo’ questions my faithful followers!!

===================================

Tony asked…

What’s the most positive thing you’ve gotten out of blogging?

When I was struggling with OCD, anxiety and depression… my outlet was blogging.  It helped me take the jumbled up catastrophe of thoughts in my brain and put them into words on a page!  Tears sometimes streamed down my face after I’d go back and read what I wrote!  My blog has deviated from where it was almost two years ago (through the life of Hands To War and my previous blog: Virtual Hugs).  I had initially started it as a therapy for myself.  I don’t know why… but it felt better letting people know what I was going through.  I’ve always worn my emotion on my sleeve. 

Now that I’m in a better place, the blog reflects myself in a different light than it did two years ago.  While I still enjoy talking about religion, fatherhood and being a husband… I also enjoy talking about boobs, baseball and vlogging myself smashing my ass through a coffee table.

So… I would say that the most positive thing I’ve gotten from blogging is understanding myself.

Oh… and people who leave comments about how much they LOVE my blog.  Those are always pretty positive too.

What’s the most negative thing you’ve gotten out of blogging?

There’s a couple of things. 

First of all, once you start a fresh new blog, you can’t expect yourself to accumulate 1000 hits a day immediately!  I “knew” this when I started… but was hoping that since “I’m ME” and “You’re Not Me” that my blog would become the #1 search engine phrase on Google.  As fate has it… I’m dreadfully mediocre and wasn’t able to gain instantaneous fame and fortune just because I started a blog (yet).  It takes a lot of work to make yourself known… and I’m not even really up there with the big leaguers yet.  I’m barely in rookie ball right now.  So… I suppose this wasn’t as much a negative thing as it was just a harsh reality.

Secondly, I’m a perfectionist.    I want everything to be PERFECT… or up to my standards anyway.  This initially resulted in me spending too much time on the computer making each blog post perfect… and denying quality time with my wife in the evening.  Of course she’s not going to tell me to stop something I enjoy doing… but I admit that I was a little too involved initially and now have a more chiseled-out time to write blog posts.

Do you write your posts ahead of time?

I actually prefer bending the space-time continuum by stepping into the future and stealing my future blog posts and bringing them back to present day so I never really have to “do” any writing. 

Me in my sexy bikini about to travel into the future while getting a tan on my time machine/tanning bed

  

What do you think I can do to improve my blog?

You know what I love about your blog… you’re not ashamed of your geekiness!  Part of being a geek is not giving a crap what other people think about what you write about.  The first thing I thought when my eyes locked with yours on your blog’s profile picture were, “This guy did not post a picture of himself with a lightsaber as his profile pic!!”  Dude… now that’s awesome.  Being genuine and true to yourself will go A LONG way my friend.  Keep it up.

But… I love it when you write about Star Wars or zombies or being a comic book whore… I’m interested in the you write about that because I’m a geek too.  So I had to say one thing… I’d  say write more of that kind of stuff!

MamaMidWife one upped Gucci Mama with 11 questions asking…

1. What do you think of the “Twilight Freak”, really? (Cause I about cracked up on one of your older posts when you called him that).

I honestly wonder “What. The. Eff.  Am I missing something here?”  The dude is whiter than my ass used to be before I burnt it in a high velocity tanning bed just recently (yes while traveling into the future… see above).  So, I haven’t seen the movies… but I don’t have to and don’t want to because this whole “Vampire Craze” bugs me! 

2. If you and Bunny had another baby, would you (collectively, you and Bunny, not just YOU) seek out alternative health care to avoid a repeat Cesarian?? (i.e. midwife, family practice doctor, etc.) Would you consider a home birth? Do you think home birthers are nuts?

This is three questions by the way…

In answer to the first part of your question: I think I speak for both of us when I say, “No”.  While we both understand there are methods out there to prevent having a repeat Cesarian… everything that Bunny went through trying to get DLG out the most natural way was exhausting.  While we both know that she could have eventually… possibly… MAYBE been able to push DLG out we would run the risk of her having some sort of damage done to herself from the trauma of going through the birth canal.

In answer to the second part of your question: “No” as well.  It’s just a personal preference.  I (and I think Bunny) “feel” safer being in a hospital or birthing center.  While I doubt that statement is 100% true all the time… it at least puts our minds a little more at ease.

Lastly, I have close to 20 nieces and nephews (and one great-nephew)… nearly ALL of them were home births.  So… if I were to call home-birthers “nuts”… I may just not be invited to the next family reunion.  But honestly I don’t think home-birthers are nuts at all.  We’ve all got our personal preferences.  Now… if you prefer to have your baby while sky-diving… THAT would qualify as nuts.

3. What’s up with the naked chick tattoos (or “partially dressed” chicks might be more appropriate)?

For the record, I have THREE chick tattoos.  Wait… I have four!  Damn, I guess I do have a lot of chick tattoos.  Honestly… I don’t really know!  I guess I like chicks (a) in tight superhero outfits, (b) larger than normal boobs or (3) that look like my wife… so I want them forever emblazoned on my body.

I just think they look cool.  Gimme a break… geeeeeez!

4. Did you convert to Catholicism, or were you raised in a Catholic family? Is your entire family of origin Catholic? Have your brothers/sisters/parents remained Catholics?

Again… this is three questions.  I guess I’m going to have to rewrite the rules next time I have a question and answer session.

*HEAVY SIGH*

First answer: No.  I did not.  I was raised Catholic, fell away for about five or six years while I was in college getting drunk 24/7 and shortly thereafter but came back after wallowing in a rather large puddle of angst and self-pity.  Thank God I did.

Second answer: Both my mother and fathers side of the family were (and still mostly are) Catholic.

Third answer:  My parents remain STRONG Catholics.  My father really started getting into Catholic apologetics after he retired and they have probably read every book about being Catholic there has ever been published.  They’ve even been to Rome, seen the Pope and met Jesus while he was sipping his latte at the Starbucks next to the Vatican.  While my parents raised all of my siblings and I (there are five of us) Catholic… we all broke away from the church and I’m the only one to come back.  My sister over at One Thing (who needs to start writing again!!) is a very strong Christian who writes quite often about her faith.  My other sister is Christian too… but is really involved in the activities of her two high school kids at the moment to go to church.  My two brothers are unfortunately agnostic… but I pray for them every day!  I must say they are both dangerously hilarious though… my oldest brother just started his own little blog project: How To Create A Garden Of Inhuman Delights… it’ll have you rolling.

5. How do you feel about the Catholic devotion to Mary? What do you say when confronted by Protestants who are all like, “You worship Mary! Heretic!”, when in fact, we don’t?

If you’ve never listened to a Catholic apologist by the name of Tim Staples… then you should.  He is a man FAR MORE intelligent on this issue than I ever could be.  I can’t even begin to try to dissect your question because I would do it pretty miserably.  All I can say is that you’re right when you say, “We don’t”!  It’s a common misconception of Protestants who think we’re in mass, bowing before a statue of Mary and chanting a  Gregorian chant.

6. Does potty training suck? What’s your take on it?

Potty training does suck.  But I hate anything involving poop regardless.  I was just getting good at changing diapers without having to look at the poop.  Now… I have to look at it in the toilet and clap my hands and act really excited when all I want to do is throw up!  But I now it’s for the greater good so I push on through…

7. Now that you have a child: What do you think of the public school system and would you expose your child to what’s in it? (Think “comprehensive sex education starting in elementary school.)

Oh Lord… Bunny and I HOPE to be able to enroll DLG in a private school.  I’ve read about this and it’s pretty damn disturbing!

I learned about the birds and the bees when I went and saw, “Look Who’s Talking Too!” with my mom when I was in 3rd grade.  If you’ve seen it, there’s a scene where the sperm are racing each other to the egg to fertilize it and they’re all talking with each other.  It confused the living hell out of me and my mom had to explain it all to me on the drive home. 

Look Who’s Talking Too: a perfect sex-ed tool

8. Cloth diapers: Crazy or convenient?

Again…  I hate poop.  I’d rather wrap it up in a disposable diaper and throw it away than having to deal with putting the log in the toilet, washing the skidmark off the diaper, dealing with the smell, etc.

I know… I know… I’m not “green”.  Sue me.

Now my brother and his wife used cloth diapers and as far as I know… didn’t have a problem with it.  As it is with home birthing… it’s a personal preference.  Whatever floats your boat.  Or holds your kids gigantic piece of crap.

9. Loud toys: Only for Grandma’s house or Bring ‘em on?

DLG is not allowed to have toys.

10. Circumcision: Would you cut your boy (if you ever have one)? Leave him as God made him? Why or why not? (I highly recommend searching for a video of an infant circumcision on youtube and watching it before you formulate an answer. Of course that may predispose you to a big, fat, “NO”. My appologies.)

You know, I never really thought otherwise until Bunny got pregnant.  I never knew there was really “an option” to not get a circumcision! 

Believe me… I have NOT A SINGLE DOUBT IN THIS WORLD that a circumcision would hurt like a mothereffer!!  I do not need to nor do I want to see an infant get circumcised on YouTube!  I may just have nightmares.  With that being said… I think the positives outweigh the negatives when it comes to getting a circumcision.  While my heart would ABSOLUTELY BREAK for my son who just got circumcised because I know the little man just went through hell… I also know he won’t require massive amounts of therapy when he’s 30 because he won’t be able to remember it.

(Unless he’s that albino dude from the movie, “Powder”… who remembers everything… including when he was born)

Albino dude from “Powder” = creepy

11.  Is there a tattoo that you regret getting? (I have just one I wish I could get rid of.) Would you cover it up if you could? Remove it? Which one is it and why?

What’s with the three questions in a single question!

Yes.  This one:

View All Photos | This is by far the dumbest tattoo I have... no idea why I got it! | Papa Koenig

I regret this one because it really makes no sense whatsoever.  It’s a scorpion on my boob.  Okay.  What’s that mean?  I don’t know.

Yes… I have tiny nipples.

No… I haven’t thought of anything to cover it up with yet but plan on covering it up with another half-naked chick because you can never have too many of those.

——————————————————————

Still working on the others.  I’m not good at giving short and concise answers if you can’t tell already!

 

Interpretive Dance Friday!!! Episode Two


Episode one located HERE

I honestly wasn’t going to post another IDF until next Friday in an effort to “spread out the love” a little bit… but with how this episode wound up… I couldn’t help but post it immediatly.  It’s not four minutes long like the last one because I had to cut the dance short… you’ll see why.

Whatever you do… watch it all the way through!

Feel free to “Tweet” this, “Facebook” this, post it to your profile or send it to America’s Funniest Home Video’s.

I’m not quite sure how I’m going to “one-up” that performance.  But if you’ve known me or followed me for any length of time then you know I’m going to give it my best shot.

Still working on answering everyone’s questions… will have those for you soon.

Papa K Grants You The Wish Of Answering Your Questions (Part One)!


Alright… so I’ve learned something from my post requesting all of you to bombard me with questions… and that is to be careful what you wish for.

I was betting on my  internet obscurity to barely harness enough to complete my goal of at least ONE question from TEN people… turns out I got 44 questions from twelve people.  Don’t get me wrong… I’m EXTREMELY flattered that you guys are interested enough in me to ask me questions at all!  But I don’t think I’m going to be able to answer all questions in just one post. 

So without further ado as Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas would say, “Let’s get it Sta-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ted in heeeeeeeearearearearaer!” and then I’ll pee my pants:

——————————————————–

In the order they were received:

Jonathan said…

How do you know I have screws?

(in reference to rule six I made in my post about these questions stating: “I will respond to your questions in a future post (in about a week) and give you Earth-shattering answers bound to loosen your screws a little bit)

Well Jonathan… I happen to know that you have a screw planted firmly in your forehead because I shot it in there with a nail gun that one time we ate mushrooms and I got scared because I thought you looked like one of those creepy bird things from “The Dark Crystal”:

 

Creepiest kids movie EVER…

 Next question.

Gucci Mama had TEN questions all by herself…

1. Of the following three people, you have to marry one, kill one, and sleep with one. Who gets what? Whoopi Goldberg, Richard Simmons, Bea Arthur

I definitly not marrying or sleeping with Richard Simmons… so I guess I’ll have to kill him.

I’m not sleeping with Whoopi Goldberg because that’s just gross… so I guess I’ll marry her.

I guess that mean I have to get it on with Bea Arthur… of the three… it doesn’t look so bad.

2. What is the first thing you noticed about your wife the first time you met her?

Ohhhhhhhhhh Gucci Mama.  Gucci Mama, Gucci Mama, Gucci Mama… I’m not going to give you a super hard time on this because I happen to know you haven’t been reading me THAT long.   The answer is a quick and simple and I’ve actually written about it: her amazing boobs.  I’m one of those typical dudes.  I love boobs.  While my mind may be here:

 

It’s actually always here:

There ain’t nothing wrong with that and I ain’t ashamed to admit it!  They’re what drew me to her and WHADAYA KNOW… we’ll be married five years in September!! 

3. You know what makes me want to eat nails and spit them at nuns? When I get sucked into “texting”, which I hate, and I end the conversation with something that requires no response and the other person sends back, “K”. That’s really more of an observation than a question.

In answer to your non-question… I like texting actually.  I’m not much of a phone talker so any time I get to skip the speaking part of a phone conversation I’m gonna take it.

4. Fun fact; I can balance just about anything on my boobs. I’ve even vlogged it for the world to see, and I will tell you, those were some pretty high traffic days over at MSWG. What, if any, special and surprising bodily talent do you have?

For a man, I have some fairly sturdy breasts… but not large enough to balance anything on other than my tiny nipples.  I guess if I had to come up with a bodily talent (one that I could talk about) I’d have to say that I can do this:

Unbelievably… this is a family talent that ALL my brothers and sisters can do as well as both my parents.  I guess it’s sewn into our genetic code.

Oh… and I was also able to melt my neck one time:

Although… I haven’t been able to do it since this picture was taken.  Thank God because it frightens me so.

5. What do you find most irresistible about me? My stunning good looks? My razor sharp wit? My brilliant political analysis (it’s not boring when I do it)? Or all of the above?

None of these are the MOST irresistible…  I have to say it’s the fact that you don’t give a flying EFF what anyone thinks!  You pour your soul out on your blog daily… regardless of how you feel.  Whether you’re having a bad day, creating your own reality show, loving the hate or standing up against idiots who want to teach sex-ed to Kindergarteners… it’s all done with a real “this is the way I am so get used to it” attitude.  I like that.  I try to approach my blog the same way… although not as political, a little more weird, some spiritual issues sprinkled in and a whole lot more pictures of Kim Kardashian

6. If you could be any kind of tree in the forest, what kind of tree would you be?

I don’t care what kind of tree I was just so as long as I was planted firmly next to this tree:

7. Sapete cosa dice questo?

Alright… I only speak English and Klingon so I had to try and translate this by utilizing several online translating forums and this is what they came up with: “Sapete questo says anything?”  That doesn’t help me much.  So… I don’t know what you’re asking me!  All I can say is, ” jIH rur nga’chuq tlhej wIj be’nal”.

8. What, if any, sports did you play in high school/college?

I played baseball for about twelve years.  I could have played in Junior College but I gave up playing because I was “in love” with this girl.  Stupid mistake.  If I knew then what I know now I’d be in the majors. 

My small little claim to fame is that I struck out current St. Louis Cardinal Matt Holliday twice when we were both in high school.

I remain a gigantic Texas Rangers fan and travel to see them every year for a couple of games.  I’ve well documented my last several outings here and here and have even gotten a tattoo to commemorate my devotion to them… although it remains slightly unfinished:

9. I hate ice cream. Really, really hate it. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being totally normal and 10 being crazier than a shit house rat, how psycho is it that I hate ice cream?

Well… I happen to love ice cream!!  So I guess I think you’re crazier than a shit house rat.

10. I would rather climb into bed with ten angry cobras than come within twenty feet of a single grasshopper. What is your most irrational fear?

So I’ll get serious on this one.  Since I’ve become a father… I struggle daily with irrational fears.  They used to be much much worse and I was actually diagnosed with a form of OCD known as “Pure O – OCD” or “OCD Bad Thoughts”.  It was an incredible struggle in my life and still is from time to time.  I’ve written about it frequently and my first blog (VirtualHugs) was actually the outcome of an incredible amount of anxiety, depression and need for myself to formulate the millions of thoughts and emotions that were spinning around in my head.  So, perhaps my most irrational fears involve the people whom I’m closest to and love the most i.e. my wife and child.  I wrote a post a while back called “Let Go” that reflected on how far I’ve come from the pit of anxiety and depression I found myself in after DLG was born.  Read it if you get a chance.

 

Kim Kardashian asked…

I’ve gotten your calls and your tweets and your emails and your carrier pigeons and seen you tailing my BMW on your BMX bicycle.  If I send you a picture for your fanroll of me in a bikini with your blog URL written on me with cherry red lipstick will you LEAVE ME ALONE?!

Send me a few locks of your hair, some toe nail clippings and some flakes of your dead skin along with the picture and we’re cool.

Tit For Tat asked…

#1. Do you believe that a talking snake convinced a woman to get her husband to eat an apple and because of that we all became shitheads for eternity?

First of all, thanks for the question.  I don’t feel as though I talk spiritually enough anymore… so this gives me the opportunity.

I’m sure whole books have been written on this subject of whether or not the stories in the Old Testament actually happened or if they are just stories.  What I know is the words on those pages were written centuries ago and have been translated and interpreted in a million different ways.  So do I believe that a snake actually talked to Eve and her husband actually ate an apple and because of that we actually became shitheads?  I really don’t think so… but if you believe in God then you know he can do whatever the hell he wants to do so if that’s the way he wanted to make it happen I ain’t gonna argue with him.

Secondly, I don’t really think making it your life’s work to prove or disprove whether or not Adam and Eve were actually real would prove to be a real salvation issue.  Whether the story is real or it never happened… it’s an illustration of the human condition and we should use it as a means to better ourselves.

#2. Because of question one why do you think a really nice guy decided to get nailed to a cross and die and comeback to life to forgive you for the shit that the apple guy caused?

 This question cannot be answered in a few short paragraphs and I can’t figure out if your kind of mockingly asking me this, if you really want to know or if you’re trying to test my theological skills… but I’ll do my best.

Why?  Grace of course.  If you haven’t read a book called, “What’s So Amazing About Grace” then I urge you to do so.  While grace seems so vastly illogical to a world today that is so deeply rooted in itself, instant gratification and what Christians call “sin”… it’s everything He is. 

The best way I can describe it is that He was taking the bullet for us.  If your child had a gun pointed to their head… you would gladly take the bullet instead of them, correct?  We are God’s children.  We had the gun pointed to our heads… and He took it for us.  Plain and simple.

Reverend Papa K is now leaving the building

——————————————————————

If you sent me a question and I have not yet answered it… do not despair.  I will get to you.  Look for more answers to your questions soon.

If you want to ask another one… feel free to do so after this post or if you’d like to make it easier on me and my OCD… leave it after this post.

Hi. My Name is Papa K… And I’m A Selective Listener


“Oh… when you go to the store, can you get some ‘honey turkey’?  We’re all out.”

“Sure thing babe, I’ll add it to the list.” I reply.

I carefully write “turkey” below “toilet paper”, “string cheese”, “colored ice cream cones” and the endless number of other things we “need”.

Upon my return from the black hole known as “Wal-Mart”, I unload the mountainous pile of groceries I’d so effortlessly funneled into my shopping cart, ran through the checkout and piled so delicately on top of each other in the back of our Toyota Sequoia.

My wife grabs the turkey I’d been in the deli meat line for fifteen minutes to obtain, tears a small piece off and pops it in her mouth and almost instantaneously formulates a completely horrific look upon her face.

“What is this?”  She unhappily blurts.

“It’s turkey!” I say.

“Uh… it’s disgusting!  On the label it says this is ‘smoked turkey’!  Didn’t you hear me say ‘honey turkey’?”

I smile sheepishly and my mind races. 

“What do I say?” I think to myself!  “Should I blame it on the deli-meat-slicer-guy?  Should I say they were all out and I got the next best thing?  Should I quickly change the subject?”

I go for the latter, “Look honey, I got your favorite toilet paper: Charmin!”

She looks at me through half-open eyes, “Babe.  We buy Cottenelle.”

Dammit.

———————————————————————

Not to sound ostentatious, but I think I’m a good husband, friend and all around cool dude.

But… I have a problem…

For some reason, I can’t remember what size eggs I’m supposed to get at the grocery store, what time DLG’s gymnastic practices are or where Bunny told me I could find that dress I’m supposed to return to Dillard’s for her.  Yet… I can remember what bra size she wears, which brand of jeans make her ass look incredible and how many home-runs Juan Gonzalez hit for the Texas Rangers in 1996.  It is an incredible phenomenon that I can remember how many inches of cleavage Bunny was showing me on our first date (three) but forget whether she told me to grab the dark green hair-bow or the lime green hair-bow for DLG!

This disability is a growing concern for me and my wife suffers the most.  I HONESTLY feel horrible about it.  For whatever reason, I’m unable to absorb THE DETAILS about anything that doesn’t pertain to boobs and baseball!

I know we’re supposed to be somewhere… but I’ve forgotten what time we’re supposed to be there!

I know I’m supposed to buy DLG a particular brand of diaper… I just can’t remember what brand it is!

I bring DLG’s sippy before our long car ride… but I forget to fill it with new milk!

I buy turkey at the grocery store… but I buy the wrong kind of turkey!

Do you see what I’m getting at?  In a humoristic way I’m admitting that I, Papa K, completely and totally select the things I want to remember!  I really have to make a conscious effort to remember the details!

So, switching gears, I know I joke about this, but I’m really honestly and genuinely asking all the other husbands (and wives) out there… do you have a problem with selective hearing as well?

Your thoughts and comments are greatly appreciated!

————————————————————

————————————————————

Don’t forget to ask me any questions you want!  Just comment after this post!  Answers coming this Tuesday (8/17).

Interpretive Dance Friday!!! Episode 1


Before I get started on Interpretive Dance Friday I have to direct you to my brothers new blog: How To Create A Garden Of Inhuman Delights.  I owe my funny bone to my brother and many of the humoristic stylings (is that a word? No… probably not) are fashioned after his antics.  If you don’t click ONE THING on my blog EVER AGAIN… I beg you not to make that his blog.  You won’t be sorry you went there and you will UNDOUBTEDLY laugh your ass off.

My favorites: How To Get Rid Of A Tick and How To Watch Things Go From Bad To Worse.  Seriously… if you only click one link a year… make his the one.

————————————————————————– 

Welcome to my latest installment: Interpretive Dance Friday.  Each and every Friday (maybe EVERY OTHER Friday… depending on how I feel) I will interpretivly dance to a song of my choosing.  Remember… I have had no technical or professional training.  I know that may seem completely illogical… considering how good I am.

So, for my first performance, I’m going to choose a song written and performed by one of the worlds greatest and magical wordsmiths.  His name is “B.o.B”… I like to just call him my bro: Bob.  This is an interpretive dance for my wife… I love you honey.

In case you were wondering… I was getting very tired by the end of the song.  And “no” I don’t want to punch my wife life I punched DLG’s floatie… my improvisational skills just aren’t what they used to be.

On another note… if you watch our littlest dog in the background… he looks quite confused at my antics.  It’s really quite funny.

Also… don’t forget to ask me questions!!!  BTW – did anyone else other than my mother notice that was my face in the “I Want You” poster?

I Want YOU To Ask Me A Question! NOW!!


Alright people… if you haven’t guessed already… I want you to ask me a question.  I’ve seen a couple other (more successful) blogs do this so I wanna try it too dammit.  It’s either going to be a raving success and I’ll be very pleased… or I’m going to be extremely dissapointed because I’ll come to find out that most of the traffic I get is from SPAMMERS or people searching for interesting key word searches like, “never sneeze and fart at the same time” or “my mother ass in bathroom” (yes… those are real word searches people did to “find” my blog).

Here are the rules:

1. There aren’t really any rules.

2. Okay… maybe there’s one or two rules.

3. Either leave me a comment on this post (click either “comments” or “leave a comment” at the top of the post) or send me an email at papak4324@live.com.

4.  ANYTHING GOES… except questions about politics because it bores me. 

5.  Make the questions good.  Don’t ask me, “Hey!  Papa K… why’s the sky blue?” or “Why are we here?” because I ain’t effing know!  Save those questions for Stephen Hawking and David Hasselhoff.  Ask real deep, thought-provoking questions like, “Why do you like boobs so much?” or “Have you ever peed your pants?” or “Would you rather eat a sundried tomato or a turkey gizzard?” (ANSWERS: Because they’re awesome.  Yes.  Sundried Tomato)

6.  I will respond to your questions in a future post (in about a week) and give you Earth-shattering answers bound to loosen your screws a little bit.

7.  I’m only going to post your questions IF I GET UP TO AT LEAST ONE QUESTION FROM 10 DIFFERENT PEOPLE!  So all you lurkers out there who’ve never made a comment… you time has come.

8.  That’s all the rules.

9.  As official rule maker I have the ability to change these rules at will, without notice and without parental consent.

10.  Okay… there was one more rule there… sorry.

Okay.  So.  Let’s go.  Ready…. go.  Alright.  Now it’s time.  Let’s do this.  I’m ready.  Just waiting on you…

I Ain’t The Poster Child For Tough Love


Before we became parents, Bunny and I used to sit around and talk about what life would be like with a kid.  We’d discuss names, what gender we’d like to have, what physical attributes they would possess from either of us and “How are we going to discipline?”

“Oh hell,” I would say, “I always got spankings when I was a kid and its going to be the same for my kids!”

Bunny would vehemently disagree with me.  While I was raised by a mother and father who disciplined me carefully and methodically with a wooden spoon and logic, Bunny was raised by a single parent whose spankings were nothing more than the result of an adult temper tantrum!  I assured that I would follow my parents form of discipline down to perfection. 

Only thing is… I hadn’t anticipated beauty in its highest form, deep blue eyes and the tiniest, most heart-crunching “Daddy… I love you” escaping the pouty pink lips of my first daughter:

After looking into the eyes of what I’d helped create… I began looking into other methods of discipline.  Her hugs, kisses and seemingly never-ending love quickly smothered my pre-kid disposition that “tough love” was the route I wanted to take in making my first daughter mind her parents.

Now that she’s reached the age of two… she now understands how and when to push the limits of her mother and I’s patience.   I read a book called, “1-2-3 Magic: Effective Discipline For Children 2-12” and it made surprisingly good sense to me.  It taught discipline without ever having to lay a hand (or a wooden spoon) on the posterior of my child.  It taught surprisingly easy tactics by managing your tone and your emotions.  It coached using the “time-out” instead of spankings to convey to your kid: “Hey… I’m not joking here.  I’m freakin’ serious!” 

Bunny and I are using the program and it has been successful and we have never had to resort to pulling out the wooden spoon.

This doesn’t mean she’s entirely perfect.  She is two… and with the territory comes some rebellion.  Usually this involves pulling my hair or rearing back and hitting me in the face when she’s tired, she can’t communicate what she wants… or both.  I’m always very calm, institute the rules I learned in the book and it always results in positive outcomes.

Despite its success… I deviated from my “time-out” tactic the other day and it wound up breaking my heart.

On this day, DLG and I had spent much of the afternoon at Wal-Mart hunting and gathering.  Since we were down to a single walnut and some corn flakes in our pantry… it was a long trip.  As the groceries piled up in the cart, DLG had to resort to walking next to me.  It’s not as easy to operate this way because DLG has to “buy” everything:

“Daddy, I buy this!”

“No honey… we don’t need that peach.  Can you go put it back please?  Thank you!”

“Daddy, I buy this!”

“Hey… honey… we don’t need a gallon on vinegar right now.  Can you go put it back please?  Thank you!”

“Daddy, I buy this!”

“Oh you’re a silly gilly gumdrop… c’mon now… don’t be silly… we already have ‘The Funniest Of Benny Hill’ on DVD.  C’mon… let’s put it back.  Thank you!  Good girl!”

In amongst all this work to corral her by myself I also successfully fed her lunch, navigated a poopy diaper and prevented the consumption of an ancient, dirty green bean that had been hangin’ out on the floor for God knows how long.

By the time I stumbled in the door to our kitchen with every single bag around either of my wrists (because men HAVE to carry EVERY bag in from the car)… I was exhausted.  Exhausted yet feeling very accomplished.  There was a time when, by myself, it took a good hour just to leave the house!!  Never mind navigate everything I had just done!

Regardless of all that, it was DLG’s nap time and I went through our extremely ritualistic routine to get her laid down.  The conclusion of our nap-time rituals led to DLG smacking me in the face because she was tired and wanted me to read her one more book.

I was still calm, collected and ready to place her into time-out.  Although, perhaps out of “Wal-Mart” detox, I decided to give her a little taste of what she’d been dishing out.

Mere seconds after she’d struck me and with a stern look in my eye I quickly spanked her on the bare skin of her left thigh.

She looked at me with a look of complete and utter confusion… and then started cry GIANT CROCODILE TEARS!

I suddenly felt like a COMPLETE AND TOTAL HORSE’S ASS!!  I’d dealt with DLG crying many times before this but never had I dealt with sobs that were a result of purposeful physical pain dealt to her by my hand!  She cried and I gently helped bury her head in her blankie that draped across my shoulder.

I can’t begin to tell you in how many directions my heart was breaking listening to her cry on my shoulder.  It’s unlike anything I’d ever felt in my lifetime.  I knew that she’d recover… but would I?  I reassured her over and over again how much I loved her while holding back MY tears!

Quite frankly, I might have just spanked the rebellion right out of her because she immediately fell asleep once I sheepishly laid her down for nap time.

I exited her room and immediately called my wife so she could reassure me I was a good father.  All I got was her voice mail.

Damn.

I guess I would have to get that reassurance later.

While I knew I had not struck her out of anger, I was completely thrown off by the emotion I felt!  I had come so far from my non-negotiable “discipline by spanking” approach I had before I was a father to now when I could barely contain my emotions after one swift swat to my kids thigh!

I crawled into my happy place:

DLG’s “Princess Tent”: my safe-haven from the outside world

I felt like I was a horrible father.  I felt like I was on the downward slope to prison.  I felt like a massive douchebag.  I felt like shit quite frankly.

Within 24 hours, these feelings deteriorated and I learned that people (even me) change.  Before I was a father, I thought I could dole out a few swift spankings as my mother did when I was a kid.  I was dreadfully wrong.  My mother was able to see the long road ahead when I would be writing this blog post literally THANKING her for whipping my ass for some of the dumb crap I did (like throwing our family cat off the third floor balcony)!!  Now… I’m not able to see past the tears streaming down my little ones cheeks.

Spanking isn’t for me.  I was even raised in a family where spanking was done right i.e. not out of anger, with lessons learned and hugs and kisses after the swats. 

I just can’t do it. 

If you don’t agree with me… then I think you better go to time-out.