51- year-old character actor Doug Hutchinson recently hoped to expand our minds when he decided he wanted to stop being seen as “that guy who looks like he’s going to murder you with an axe” and instead be seen as a loving, caring individual who believes love has no boundaries. He accomplished this by marrying a 16-year-old (at least we’re made to believe she’s 16) aspiring contry singer named (Courtney) Alexis Stodden.
Doug Hutchinson is creepy. Not just because of his most recent marital situation, but because of his face:
If you’d asked me who Doug Hutchinson was a month ago, I wouldn’t have known who you were talking about right away. If you’d have told me, “He’s that creepy dude from The Green Mile!” Then I would have said, “Oh yeah! That guy who is always looking like he’s going to murder the world as he stares at you from underneath his protruding brow!”
Let me guess what you’re asking yourself right now: “So, you’re telling me that this:
Plus this:
Equals this?”:
Yes. Yes that’s exactly what I’m telling you.
While I don’t advocate that love can’t be found between three and a half decades of age difference and the mere fact that the man happens to look as though this face was run over by the San Francisco 49ers but, you have to admit… this is just a tad creepy.
As you can see in the video below, what would even possess a man 35 years old her senior to put up with her annoying cackle of a laugh and obvious lack of life experience other than the fact she’s perhaps an automatonic Barbie robot he built in his mad scientist basement.
“What we’re here to do is touch each other and love each other the best we can.”
*shiver*
Well… who am I to argue with God. I guess they really do love each other.
What do you guys think? Creepy or is this legitimate (I’m trying not to laugh) love.
And, as always, I’ll join the mass of bloggers as they etch their words of love and affirmation for their loved ones in the vast, expansive blogosphere.
In my case, that loved one would be Bunny:
But, what makes this post so much different from any other post, is that I’m not rallying all of my efforts to get a multitude of people on my blog to read about my undying love and devotion to my wife. This post is quite simply just for her.
So… read on if you like. Otherwise this might get a little too smarmy for you.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
So anyways…
Bunny: without saying too much of what I’ve already said over and over again, I love you with a deepness not even I can explain. You have helped guide me into the person I’ve become today and I’m light years beyond what I ever thought I could be.
You carried our beautiful daughter for nine months and did it so gracefully.
The sacrifices you’ve made to keep this family operating the way it operates do not go unnoticed and I hope you know that one day you’ll see what a difference you’ve made in the lives of those who you care about the most. Our daughter loves you and will continue to love you because of the person you are and the mother you’ve become.
Nothing make me more angry than someone who wrongly accuses your intentions. I know the conditions of your heart and I would die to protect their integrity. I’ve never been more ready to protect you than I have this past year. I’m proud to say that it’s something I wasn’t quite sure I had in me and it’s the love we share that brought it out of me.
Your personality can light up a room and your smile is like a 10,000 watt lightbulb. Your beauty quite simply transcends time and I must say I’m quite proud of myself knowing that I “married up”. You are the trophy wife to end all trophy wives… but your beauty is just a bonus. It’s what’s inside of you that makes me keep falling in love with you over and over again.
All my love babe.
Thanks for being married to a five like me… even though you’re a ten.
So what better time for me to work on a post about her then? In fact, since I’m going to be writing about her for the next week (between 2/8 and 2/14 as this my month to write about people/things I love), I thought I’d kick it off with some pictures that embarrass her. I tend to filet myself quite often on this blog and I think I’d like to let you all feel a bit human in the sense that every picture that’s taken of her doesn’t look like this:
I also feel a bit like getting my ass kicked when she comes home so let’s get going before it’s too late.
First off:
You may be asking yourself, “What’s so bad about that picture? She was a cute baby!”
Yes. That is true. What is particularly hilarious about this photo is the fact that the bow in her hair is attached by means of a large swatch of Scotch Tape:
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
So that one wasn’t overly hilarious… but this one is:
She’s giving me the “Come Hither” stare.
I conveniently forgot the camera when my bachelor party occurred. Fortunately, for Bunny’s bachelorette party, everybody brought one:
Because really… who would want to forget ANYTHING that happened that night?!
And lastly:
I’m so dead.
Anyway, just to set the record straight, for every one of these embarrassing pictures there are about 2,000 pictures of her looking like this:
Or like this:
Or like this:
Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. for infinity ad nauseam.
I don’t really know what this post proves other than somehow I managed to marry someone exponentially better looking than me who once in a blue moon get’s a bad picture taken of her. I guess that’s what I’ll shoot for.
Oh… and I wanted to show this picture again:
MY NECK!!! It’s meeeeeelting!! IT’S MEEEEELLLLLTTTTTING!!!
For ever 2,000 amazing pictures of Bunny… there’s 4,000 of me looking like the picture above.
Make sure and read to the very end of this post… I’m giving away something PRETTY COOL!!!
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It just occurred to me the other day to look back and check how long I’ve been keeping this blog alive.
It was October 16th, 2009 when I birthed “Hands To War” into existence with post number one. In that post I welcomed every transferring themselves from my last blog: “Virtual Hugs“, to my new, more appropriately named blog. Quickly following that post was about a story I read regarding how Ted Williams’ frozen head had been used for batting practice at the cryogenics lab where it’s kept.
Everything went downhill from there.
I’m kidding.
I can’t begin to explain to you after writing 90 posts on Virtual Hugs and 188 on Hands To War how incredibly awesome I feel.
I never used to write. I never used to read. I found them both about as enjoyable as having a doctor shove his finger up my butt (that’s not enjoyable BTW). Now… I do both (read and write… not get fingers stuck up my butt)!! I feel as though I happened upon a wealth of previously undiscovered knowledge!
188 posts ago, when I opened the doors to my blog home, I honestly didn’t know to even think about what might become of my career as a blogger. My blog can’t make homemade ice cream, it hasn’t me famous yet and it doesn’t have boobs as awesome as Bunny’s.
Three strikes right?
Wrong.
For everything negative that blogging does (like when it erased THIS very post from its memory banks leaving me with nothing and having to type it all over again)… it has an equally rewarding effect.
I have made friends whom I only know through the still photos they post on their own blogs or the comments they’ve made on mine. Mandal, Shelle, Keith, SeattleDad, MamaMidwife, Andrea and Tony are just a few that come to mind.
I’ve received an email from Kim Kardashian on how much she loves my blog.
I’ve effectively lived through depression, anxiety and OCD by chronicling my struggles with them on this blog and on Virtual Hugs.
I’ve been able to find this outlet to explode my creativity all over the internet… even if a microcosm of the planet ever sees it then I still feel like I’ll be remembered for something.
I’ve written about things that I’ve been told actually help people get through whatever they’re going through. Whether I said something deeply intriguing, spiritual or just plain stupid it hits someone where it makes sense to them!!
I’ve found it all to be rewarding and I thank you, the reader, for reading. Keep it up!! Tell your friends. Tell your neighbors, your husbands, your wives, your poker buddies, your Chihuahua, your Facebook friends, that dwarf that lives under the foundation of your house or even old Mrs. Cratchett who tries to shoot you with her crossbow every time you walk by her house.
After all of this, you may have noticed a slight change in my blog title. While “Hands To War” will still remain in the URL, I’ve changed the name of this blog to “Who Is Papa K”. I ask this question in all seriousness because I don’t even know who I am! Also, I’m in a different place than where I was when I started Hands To War. When I started Hands To War as the successor to Virtual Hugs it was to release all the garbage I had dwelling in my soul, mind and body. Sometimes writing and seeing the words on the screen makes everything more real. I blogged because I almost had to in order to survive! I wrote about my depression, about my growing spirituality and about anything that was really affecting me in my life at that time.
It’s not that way anymore.
I don’t struggle with my OCD, depression and anxiety like I used to. I’m also not naïve enough to think that I won’t ever again… I’m just extremely happy to be at the place I’m at right now.
Hands To War is a spiritual reference and while I fully intend to write about spirituality when I want… I also don’t want to pigeon-hole myself. Themed blogs are great… but that’s not my gig.
“Who Is Papa K” is exactly what it says: “Who” am I, “what” do I write about, “when” do I post, “where” do I live so you can stalk me like the crazy stalker you are and “why” must I mention Kim Kardashian so many times?
Nobody knows really. Not even me. I want to write about whatever I damn well please and have the title of my blog indicate that.
So… Who ISPapa K?
I don’t know. Keep readin’ and find out!
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In celebration of the new blog name I’m going to give a lucky reader the biggest prize I’ve given away to date. If it’s something you personally won’t be able to benefit from you could use this as a Christmas (it’s coming before you know it) gift to a younger member of your friends or family.
Several weeks ago, I gave away a Mr. Men book called, “Mr. Bump”. Upon further inspection at my local bookshop, I located an EIGHT-PACK collection of some classic Mr. Men books.
DLG has this same collection and she LOVES it.
Included in this eight-pack are Mr. Bounce, Mr. Bump, Mr. Chatterbox, Mr. Grumpy, Mr. Happy, Mr. Mischief, Mr. Small and Mr. Strong.
Seriously folks, this is an awesome giveaway. Just to reiterate: I’m giving you EIGHT books.
Not one.
Eight.
All you have to do is leave me a comment telling me where you live, i.e. Colorado, Wisconsin, Australia, Somalia, Antartica, etc. DON’T send me your personal address… I’ll ask for that later if you win the books. I’m really just curious how far reaching this blog goes. I also may do a post about it in the future.
For those of you who don’t know… I met my wife in a smokey bar called “Henry Hudsons”.
Yes folks… love can be found in smokey bars…
(Wanna read the completely fictional account on how we met? Click here.)
Before you start thinking we were a couple of bar-flys worried about nothing more than how we were going to make it to the next drink special… I will tell you we were far from it.
At the time… I was wallowing in a pool of my own self-pity. I had just quit a fairly decent job I’d scored right out of college and was now working at a clothing store in the mall selling jeans and Doc Marten shoes. My best friend/roommate had just moved out-of-state to start a teaching job thus leaving me to live with his girlfriend at the time (they’re married now) while she finished her last semester of school. Once she graduated, she’d be moving on to live with my BFF out-of-state and I was going to be forced to find a place on my own. So… not only did I quit a fairly decent job… I also was looking at the possibility of me having to live BY MYSELF… something I’d never done before and something I wasn’t going to be able to do selling jeans and Fossil watches.
I was stressed out of my mind.
Sydney (my best friends girlfriend) had a class with Bunny. She knew the kind of girls I was attracted to and immediately knew I would be chomping at the bit to get an opportunity to even talk with a girl like Bunny.
“Oh Chris, there is this girl in my class who you would love to meet!” she said to me one early evening after her class.
Knowing that Sydney knew what I liked I countered her statement, “Really!? What does she look like?”
“She’s hot. She’s got HUGE boobs!”
Without an ounce of hesitation I said, “Sign me up Sydney. Sign me up. I’m serious. What do I gotta do?”
Nothing relieves stress better than the promise of an opportunity to look at what may just be the most fascinating objects God created in his first seven-day work week.
Sydney talked to Bunny about me. Bunny was suspicious. After some fast talking, Sydney worked out a plan: the next time she came to class she would bring a picture of me to show Bunny and if I wasn’t a complete dog-faced buffoon… she MIGHT meet me. Bunny would return the favor by giving Sydney a picture of herself and if her boobs were up to my standards… I MIGHT meet her.
As it turned out, I never got to actually see what Bunny looked like before I met her because the evening Sydney showed Bunny my picture was an evening that members of her class decided to go to Henry Hudson’s for a few drinks after class.
I walked into the bar completely on faith that Sydney knew what I was going for… and she hit it right on the head.
I’d never seen a woman more beautiful than Bunny. What man wouldn’t want a girl like this? Not only was she what I liked… she was what every straight man with a heartbeat liked! Let me remind you that while physical attraction is not everything… I do believe it doesn’t hurt in your initial interaction if you’re trying to meet someone. She had everything I wanted. She was completely out of my league!! I remember exactly what she was wearing. I remember exactly what she said to me. I remember everything about that night!
Us at the most romantic place on Earth: Henry Hudson’s (man I look pasty)
We’ve been together ever since that night. We’ve had our rough times… but what couple who’s been together or married for any length of time hasn’t?
Now, today is her 29th birthday. I can tell you in complete and utter honesty… that Bunny is a million trillion times more beautiful today that the day that I met her. This is because I know the soulunderneath her flawless skin, pouty lips and well manicured nails. She’s been by my side through all the times in my life where I didn’t know if I could make it. Beneath her pretty exterior and alpha female persona… lays a heart of pure gold.
Sporting some fancy accessories: a backpack, a fo-hawk and an ultra hot wife
I know we were meant for each other… and there’s not a partner I would rather have by my side in the game of life other than her.
I love you honey… Happy 29th Birthday.
And Happy Fifth Wedding Anniversary too (in two days)!
“SCORE!! I can’t believe she married ME!!” he thought.
Wanna see something cool! I tweeted Josh Lewin, the Texas Rangers play-by-play announcer and asked him if he could wish Bunny “Happy Birthday from Papa K” during the game… and he did! Watch it!
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 goingTO 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:
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…
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.
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:
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?
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…
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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!
Papa K is a (self proclaimed) internet sensation, hell bent on blowing your mind and pulling the weeds in your garden before you even have a chance to breath. Read what he reaps, take to heart what he sows and for God's sake put on some deodorant.
Who Is Papa K? 