Monthly Archives: November 2010

Papa K And His Graceful Aging

 Don’t deny it… I was cute…

Don’t deny it… I was cute…


Okay… you really have to stop denying it…


Anyone else have a picture like this where their mom forgot it was picture day at school?

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This picture was taken shortly after I skinned a cat

This picture was taken right before I got beat up on the way to the bathroom


If I had known Justin Bieber would make billions off of this haircut I would have done something else other than obsess over Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles


Oops… I crapped my pants…


I broke hearts


“What?  All these books?  Yeah… I’ve read them.  No pictures… seriously.”

Best.  Photo. Ever.


Puberty wasn’t nice to me.  When it hit me, my Adam’s Apple became my most noticeable feature…


Adam’s Apple slowly slowly shrinking…

My head seems to be catching up to my Adam’s Apple now.  It looks a little more proportionately correct.

 Bucket hat?  Check.  Ying-Yang necklace?  Check.  Trying SO desperately hard to be cool yet failing miserably?  Check.

At last… finally!  A cool picture of myself!  Wait…


If you haven’t noticed… I’m stalling.  I’m due to post answers to all your questions you asked a while back.  I’m also supposed to award a $20 gift certificate to someone who commented on that particular post which I will also do soon.  If you still have questions then feel free to ask them!  Due to my inability to finish things in a timely matter, it’s still not too late to enter it!


Boobs, Pizookie Then The Snuggie… In That Order

I’ve made it no secret to everyone that reads my blog that I love boobs.  No God-fearing, heterosexual man with two working eyeballs and fully functional reproductive organs would disagree with me.  That is… unless they claim to be more a fan of the derriere, which I happen to be a big fan of too… but it is simply not in the same league as it’s two cousins from the north.

On the list of my favorite things, following shortly after boobs, is my favorite dessert from a restaurant called “BJ’s Restaurant and Brewery” (I’ve included the link for you in case you decided to search “BJ’s” on Google… you probably won’t find the restaurant).  There are no desserts in the Universe that are so simple yet bring you so close to ultimate orgasmic fulfillment as this ice cream/cookie treat.  May I present “The Pizookie“:

Ooh… Oooooooooh… OOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!  I need a cigarette.

Those two lone items have remained on the “objects of my affection” list for years and only until just recently has a third item joined the club.

It was last weekend when we were out of town attending my eldest nieces wedding.  Bunny and I were at a party hosted by the newly married couple when the mother of the bride (my sister) walked into the house carrying a zebra print “Snuggie” and my eyes became saucer-like.  I haven’t been a stranger to the sudden Snuggie phenomenon… I knew quite well what they were (blankets with sleeves) but I’d never had an opportunity to “wear” one.  Now that my sister was standing in the doorway with a Snuggie the opportunity was there… and I took full advantage of it:

I’m positive Heaven is where Snuggies came from. 

As I sat there on my new newphew-in-law’s video game rocker, the Snuggie melded with my DNA and began interlocking with the video game rocker on a molecular level.  I was slowly becoming the video game rocker itself!  Granted, a video game rocker with a head… but a video game rocker nonetheless. 

It was the most comfortable I’d been since I discovered what it was like to not wear underpants.

1. Boobs

2. Pizookie

3. Snuggie

In that order.

What’s your order?

Thanksgiving: A Time To Be Thankful… So Thank You

Before you go digging into your heaping mound of crap this Thanksgiving (that’ll take you a good five days to work off)… I think you ought to take a minute and reflect on what you’re thankful for.  Here are a few of the things I’m thankful for (in no particular order… just in the way they popped into my head):

1.  My beautiful, healthy, talented daughter

Can I get an “awwwwwwwwwww”

2. My beautiful, sexy wife

Can I get a “Hell Yeeeeeeah!!”

3. My wife’s boobs

4. AMP Energy Drink (which will kill me before I’m the age of 50 I’m sure of it)

5. That I got to meet Jackson

6. Kim Kardashian and my never-ending quest to make her aware I exist

7. My 113 followers on my Facebook page (but I could always use more)

8. My 264 followers on my Twitter page (but I could always use more) 

9. My new haircut (yes… I cut my hair)


                  BEFORE                                                    AFTER

10. For lullabies

11. That Josh Hamilton won the AL MVP

12.  That Bunny and I were able to get away to Boca Raton, FL and live it up a few months back

13.  That I’m officially “The Worlds Hottest Dad

14.  For GOOD BEER!!  None of that domestic crap.

15.  My entire family.  Even though we’re all  a little dysfunctional… we still all love each other very much.

16.  My Christian faith

17.  Just for boobs in general

18.  For this video:

It never gets old… 

19.  That I’m able to work from home and be with my daughter all the time… I’ll only get this opportunity once

20.  For all you readers and your continued support of my writing here at “Who Is Papa K”… so thank you and Happy Thanksgiving.


What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?

No Words

He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them.  And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.  –  Matthew chapter 18, vs. 2-5

I actually carry a small list of Bible scriptures in my wallet that move me and this one is among them.  I like it because it illustrates that the faith of a child is stronger than most… and one that we all should strive to achieve.  While it is a fairly well-known verse and one that perhaps doesn’t strike a chord with more well-versed Bible readers it still rings true and offers me some kind of hope as faith becomes more difficult in our present times.

Sometimes the faith of a child does nothing but re-energize my need for spiritual fulfillment.

I’ve written a few times about a young boy named Jackson who, not even a year ago, was diagnosed with Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma.  A cancer also known as DIPG, it is (in layman terms) an inoperable tumor imbedded in one’s brainstem which, pending a miracle, gives its victim a maximum of only two more years to live. 

Jackson remained strong in his Christian faith even as the steroids he took made him gain an unusual amount of weight and his sickness gave him terrible nausea, pushed his left eye at an odd angle and as his chemo made him overly tired.  His strength through it all weakened my knees a little and brought a never-ending barrage of lumps to my throat.  Not too long ago, I wrote about how our most recent meeting during Bunny’s birthday moved my faith to new heights.

With the nature of the disease he was fighting and the timeline the doctors had given him… I often wondered if each time I saw him might be my last.

As it turned out, Bunny’s birthday was indeed the last time I’d see Jackson.

Last night, twenty minutes before midnight, Jackson lost the battle he fought so bravely.  He was approaching his seventh birthday.

I can’t even begin to wrap my head around how, as a parent, you’d survive the death of a child so innocent and pure.  Words escape me and there is nothing I feel I can say or do to ease the unimaginable canyon that has been carved through the souls of his family.  I feel I can only write and tell the small sliver of the Earth’s population who read me what an effect Jackson had on me.  Although he lived only six and a half years and spent perhaps only four hours of those years making an impression on me and countless others… I have no doubt his life had an incredible meaning. 

The last thing I told him amidst giving him a hug was that I loved him… and I’m so glad that I did.

I have no doubt that Jackson will make the most beautiful angel…


If you’d like to offer words of encouragement to his grieving family, read more about Jackson’s life or want to watch videos of him during happier times, feel free to do so at Jackson’s CaringBridge website or at his website:

Funniest. Letter. Ever.

When I was a young lad of around five or six, I idolized my older brother Matt.  He was, like… the kind of big brother that most little tykes like me could only dream of!  He gave me foot rides, drew pictures for me, set up tents that covered the entire downstairs of our house and beat up Paul (my other brother) one of the many times he tried to end my life.  I wanted to be just like Matt when I grew up.

Unfortunately for me… there was about twelve years difference in our age.  So, when Matt moved away to go to college I was devastated!  Not just because Paul just might strangle me… but because I couldn’t idolize him there in front of me.  I had to do it from afar.

Below is one of the letters I typed to him on this new thing back then called an “Electric Typewriter” maybe you’ve heard of it:

While I have no idea what “we won” or have a recolection of the “cutest nicest littlest kitten” I met… it’s a slice of life that my mother managed to hang onto after all these years.

Now, instead of writing him letters, I slap him in the crotch after we’ve had a couple of beers because it makes me laugh to hear him say, “Hey… why did you do that!”

Moments away from a crotch slap…

I’m all growed up.

Vote Or Die. Seriously. You Think I’m Kidding? I Will Come After You.

Alright.  All you parents know that you’d do anything for your kids, right?  Even if you aren’t a parent and you read my blog you HAVE to know and understand the sort of love that goes into raising a child!

I would take a bullet right through my brain, hold my breath for seven minutes, sit on a candlestick, kiss Iggy Pop, tattoo The Wonder Pets on my forehead, eat my own dandruff, listen to Creed every day for the rest of my life or get plastic surgery to make my face look like my butt if it meant safe passageway for DLG into her senior years.

I would even do the unthinkable: beg and plead for every single one of you reading this to help DLG get a walk on role in an uncoming Barney concert here in Oklahoma City by voting for her on this news station’s website.

Now, there was a time long before I was a father where I wanted to absolutely find Barney in a dark alley way so I could beat the living dinosaur juice out of him!  But alas… DLG loves him!  So I’ll have to put off killing him for a little while longer.

A local TV station here is running a contest where parents submit videos of their kid singing the “I Love You” Barney song.  I believe ours BY FAR takes the cake… but I’ll let you be the judge of that:

As her father I know I’m biased but… c’mon… wasn’t that awesome!?  My kid needs this.  She will absolutely go bonkers if she’s able to meet Barney.  Hell… I might just grease my pants a little!

Anyway, once you click the link, scroll down and click on the “Barney ‘I Love You’ Singing Contest”, then you should be able to scroll down to DLG’s video (it’s the far right video of the entries listed under my name chriskoenig4324) and click “vote for me”.  You’ll have to register in order to vote but it’ll only take a few minutes.  So, click here (or here, or here, or here) and vote for her (there’s only four entries so I can practically TASTE victory)!

When we win… I promise I’ll get great pictures of DLG meeting Barney and of me sticking a wooden stake through his pansy, purple dinosaur heart.

VOTE people.


Papa K Answers Your Questions… Again…

Did you know that “A’ight” is a word?  It is the urban way of saying “Alright”.

So with that being said:

A’ight folks… I’ve grown tired of things to talk about and I want YOU to provide me with some questions to answer.  I’ll even throw in a prize for a random contributor.  Since my last giveaway of a POSTER to the winning contributor fell to the ONE SINGLE CONTRIBUTOR of that contest (congrats Jon)… I’ll make the ante a little better this time around and award the winning question-giver a $20 gift certificate.  With Christmas coming up… I can’t think of a better prize to give outside of a $25, $50 or $1000 gift certificate which, I’m sorry, but I haven’t made my first million yet writing blog posts for my (5) adoring fans.

This can be a lot of fun for you because you get to find out some of the most deep seeded secrets about your favorite blogger: me.  All you have to do is ask.

So… if you wanna know how old I was when I peed my pants the last time or where my third nipple is located or when I plan on splicing some of my DNA then selling my clones as slaves on the black market in Mexico the feel free to ask away.

Seriously… ask me some questions.

I’m serious.


I’d like to get questions from at least ten different readers and have TWO of them be readers who’ve never commented before.


I’m serious.

Seriously… ask me some questions.

Dammit I’m serious.

Victoria’s Secret Is Cooler Than Archie Comics

I grew up fairly sheltered.  My parents didn’t let me watch rated “R” movies, we didn’t have television, I wore two pairs of underwear, we didn’t believe in Pee Wee Herman and the only music resonating within the walls of our house was mostly Christian music.

My house certainly wasn’t like those of my (limited number of) friends whose parents let them watch “A Nightmare On Elm Street” while the scariest thing I was reduced to watching was “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”.  Or while some of my friends had complete access to their fathers “hidden” stash of Playboy magazines, I was reduced to bookmarking my Archie Comics where Betty or Veronica might happen to be wearing a bikini.

Yes… I had this issue. 

As a homeschooled, hormone enriched tween with testosterone coursing through my body at a frightening pace… Archie Comics honestly introduced me on a regular basis into what exactly the female body looked like in a bikini.

That is… until I discovered one of my mothers Victoria’s Secret magazines.

Now, I have no idea who Victoria was or what secret she was keeping from me because quite frankly… there were chicks in their underwear in this magazine!  The only underwear I’d ever seen anyone wearing was myself… in the mirror.  If my eyebrows could have gone any higher while looking bra and panties (I just said panties… tee hee) they’d be levitating a good six inches from the top of my forehead. 

As a result of my newfound love for Victoria and her absolutely awesome secret, my first crush in amidst my courtship with puberty who wasn’t a cartoon character was Stephanie Seymour:

She was no Betty and Veronica

You may remember her as being the other part of Axl Rose for a little while:


We broke up after I found out she was dating Axl who was a satan worshiper from the one band he was in for a while.  What was it called?  Guns and Sacrificed Baby Kittens or something like that… I don’t remember.  My heart was forever broken.

Stupid Victoria’s Secret model.

Anyway… I grew up and I married my own Victoria’s Secret model named Bunny.

I have pictures… but if you think I’m going to show you then you’re crazy.


Do you have a testosterone-enriched OR estrogen-enriched puberty story you want to tell the world about?  I just did… that means you have to too.

Happy 200th To Me… Happy 200th To Me… Happy 200th To Papa K… Happy 200th To Me

Guess what?

Don’t forget to enter in my most recent giveaway and this is my 200th post.  Let’s party.

My huge glass of lemonade

That is all.

Oh and this:

It’s a picture of me when I was ten shoveling dirt from underneath the cattleguard on our family farm…  it was exciting.

Oh and this:

It’s a really close of picture I took of our cat like five years ago.

Oh and this:

I am the boob king... finally.

It’s me wearing a crown made of boobs.

Oh and this:

It’s a picture of me at my seventh birthday party giving a thumbs up once I realized at some point in the distant future I might have a shot at being remotely awesome.  Maybe like 20% awesome… okay, maybe 10%.  Alright %5.

Oh and this:


It’s me at the Boulevard Brewery in Kansas City jumping for joy at fulfilling my life long dream of swimming in a huge silo of fermenting Boulevard Wheat

Oh… and this:

It’s a picture I scanned of my boobs.

Now that is all.

Thanks for reading.

Also… don’t forget to enter for a chance to win in my most recent giveaway.

Fear Comes Quickly

Seriously people… enter my most previous contest.


When I was born almost 31 years ago I came at the end of my mother’s fertile years.  I was the last of my parent’s kids to be born and came almost ten years after my next oldest brother.  I don’t know what it was about this that was particularly heart wrenching for my mother… but she tells me now that back then she used to cry long and hard as I slept in her arms, swaddled in my blankie. 

She cried because she was afraid.  She was afraid she was going to “lose” me.

My mom was like a lot of parents.  A lot of parents who give two flips about their children are going to worry about them… and worry about possibly “losing” them.  Most are able to push the thought out of their mind as if they’re shooing away a pesky fly.  Some, like myself, have issues with these intrusive thoughts to an OCD level.  As much as I’d like to shoo away the thought, it starts to fester and depress me.

“How would I ever live?” I begin to ask myself.  I imagine life devoid from the one thing that has proved to bring me so much joy beyond which I’ve ever though capable. 

As quickly as I ask the question above… I ask myself this question shortly thereafter: “Why the hell am I even thinking this?!”

The only answer I can come up with is fear.

Fear struck me hard last night.  I went into her bedroom under a blanket of darkness with only my cell phone light to provide me with guidance.  As it turned out, DLG wasn’t fully asleep and the light emanating from my cell phone was just enough to stir her awake.  After quickly retreating from her bedroom in hopes she’d go back to sleep… I quickly returned in response to her, “My Daddddyyyyyy” cries.  I resorted to cuddling with her and singing her favorite lullaby.

As I stood there, rubbing her back and singing to her… she clutched me as only a daughter clutches her daddy. 

In that dark room.. I started to become afraid.

Tears began to flow freely.

“What would I ever do… if I didn’t have this anymore?” I thought.

I then clutched her as only a daddy clutches his young daughter.

It’s been a while since I’ve been struck like that.  Those types of feelings hit me quite a bit more when DLG was a more fragile, strange, uncoordinated newborn.  Now, while it’s still as unwanted as it was before, it’s almost harder because I thought I’d kicked the fear in the ass.

Fear has a way of making you stronger though.  As history repeated itself through my first few bouts with this fear… I began to realize that what didn’t kill me only made me stronger.

I know that this too will pass, the fear will dissolve and be replaced with an even more rock-solid love.

But to get there it’s painful sometimes.


Does anyone else deal with crippling fears regarding their kids?