Monthly Archives: May 2011

A Dream Realized


We all have dreams.

Some of us might have aspirations to make lots of money, have a huge bubbly butt or meet Carson Daly.

TRL? More like “TRSEXY!”

One of my dreams, for a while, has been to have a man cave.

When Bunny and I began to search for a new house several months ago, my one and only request was to have a place to call my own.

I didn’t care what it turned out to be. It could have been a third garage, it could have been attic space, it could have been a closet, it could have been a freakin’ sod house for all I cared. I just wanted a place where I could get away. A place where I might be able to kick back, watch a baseball game and look at the newest swimsuit issu…. er, book with words in it (no pictures!).

We looked at what seemed like two billion houses. Some with a media room, some with a third garage, some with sheds in the back yard and one with what appeared to be a room where they kept their demon possessed child.

Since I’m a simple man with few requests when it comes to buying a house, I saw potential in each of these rooms (except the satanic one). I could imagine a projector and screen, a wall filled with nothing but a wide selection of movies and a space to set all my Texas Ranger’s paraphernalia. Each room would have been suitable for my needs… but Bunny couldn’t find what tickled her multiple fancies in any home.

Bunny needed an island in the kitchen, a floor plan that included a “mother-in-law plan”, a gas stove, bigger master closet (for all those damn shoes), an office, four bedrooms and cubby where she can store the lock of Justin Biebers hair she bought on eBay for $4,000.

My one request was indeed easier to fill than Bunny’s multiple needs because we eventually “settled” on a house that lacked the “mother-in-law plan” and cubby for her Justin Bieber lock of hair.

Unbelievably, it had the best man cave option of all.

So without further ado, allow me to let you (ladies included) to view within the confines of my man cave.

Looks fairly unassuming right?

BOOM! (Notice the manly Dora the Explorer seat next to the manly recliner)

What’s a man cave without an ode to his favorite professional team?

What’s a man cave without a wall FULL of autographed pictures of famous hotties! Okay… so it’s not full… YET. I’m working on it.

What’s a man cave without a line of autographed baseballs SURROUNDING the perimeter of the recessed lighting above? Okay… so it’s not surrounding the perimeter just yet… but I’m working on it.

What’s a man cave without a GIGANTIC television!!! Okay… so it’s not gigantic YET… I’m working on that too.

Quite frankly, before you get a judgey and say, “Well… that man cave doesn’t look all that spectacular!” just remember that we just moved in about a month ago. Aside from spending a small fortune on the movers, a new fence, a new refrigerator, a security system and a professionally installed stripper pole for Bunny’s strip aerobics I feel like the man cave looks pretty effing awesome.

My long-range plans include surround sound, a bar complete with bar stools, some theatre style seating, shag carpet and a piranha aquarium.

The man cave is a work in progress but it will always be a place where I can go to wind down and ponder the dreams I’ve been so lucky to see come together in my lifetime.

I must be doing something right.

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Hello? Anyone There?


It has been what feels like an eternity since I penned any words on ye olde blogge.

How are you? I want to know. Have you popped that huge cyst that was growing in your underarm? Have you made sweet love to the homeless man on the corner of Robinson and Kelly yet? What about the serum you were working on to cure penis envy?

A lot of happened since (1) I bid a momentary farewell, (2) I fell out of love for Kim Kardashian and (3) I paid homage to the tush.

For one… Bin Laden got shot in the face. Go USA.

Secondly: in keeping with my promise to all of you, I lost 2o mother effing pounds!!!

I hate me in this picture but I think it illustrates the weight I’ve lost… especially in my face… as opposed to my huge gut and double chin in the pictures below:

An extra scoop of double chin fat for anyone? Anyone?

Thirdly: we got all moved in to our mansion.

Gratuitous outside shot not really lending much to what the inside of the house looks like.  Don’t worry… I can tell you about it later.

Fourthly: Bunny lost, like… 15 pounds and now looks like she could crush Brooklyn Decker in a “who’s hotter” contest.

God I love them both…

Fifthly: I now have a man cave.

Yes… it’s messy. Yes… it’s a work in progress. Yes… I’m getting a bigger TV. Yes… I’m planning on writing a blog post about it. No… Bunny and I haven’t christened the room yet (dammit). No… you can’t come over.

Sixthly: There are at least eight billion things to talk about.

I’ve been out of the blogging business for almost two months. I haven’t kept up with reading some of my favorite blogs (I’m looking at you, you, you, you, you and you… sorry). I haven’t really tweeted or Facebooked. I haven’t really done much of anything worth relevance in trying to promote my douchness.

What I HAVE done is earn some money with my writing skills. I must say it is nice to get paid to write… but I can’t write about what I want to write about. This delivers a near fatal blow to my creativity. I miss pouring my life in so many words to the faceless readers who so diligently follow my walk through life like I was Johnny Depp or Kat Von D.

I’m ready to do it again.

I can’t promise the diligence I once had to update my blog every couple of days. I CAN promise that I won’t leave.

I can’t promise that I’ll always be at www.whoispapak.com. I’ve learned that writing and getting paid is desirable. I just might pigeon-hole myself into a blog focused on a theme.

I can’t promise I’ll always be so fraggin’ sexy. When I’m 183 I might not be all that smokin’ hot any more. In fact… I could be dead if they don’t figure out a way to regenerate frozen bodies soon.

I CAN promise I’ll always try to make you smile, I’ll always try to make you laugh (and cry… maybe… at times) and I’ll always try to get Brooklyn Decker (no more Kim Kardashian) to know I’m alive.

“I’m Papa K’s new #1!!!! *Squeal*!!!!”