There are only a few prouder moments for a father than his child’s first cock fight.
While my wife and in-laws play with my daughter at the lake, I am sitting in a dark basement, watching football, drinking some of Minnesota’s finest and eating an entire buffalo chicken Red Baron. Can three will be arriving shortly.
My wife was utterly impressed with the name of this town, and I would tend to agree with her. How many people under the age of 50 probably live in this town? I bet the real hot spot of activity is on Reform Street.
If I were to choose one photo to sum up my night at the Black Clover Beerfest…
This has nothing to do with with how long this blog has existed. I really don’t care and have killed it multiple times. No, this is about my wife, who I’ve only contemplated killing multiple times, and the fourth anniversary of our wedding. Drink it in…
Four years ago today, I sweated under a hot sun with my brother and setup chairs for our outdoor wedding while my wife got her hair done. I was dragging kegs across our reception facility while she sipped champagne mixed with orange juice. She dreamed of an outdoor wedding, so I agreed to sweat my balls off in a suit in mid-September. But all of that wasn’t even worth questioning for the opportunity to marry the love of my life.
We’ve known each other for 9 years. Been together for 8 years. Wed for 4 years. It never feels that long until you write it all out like that. Not once for all of those 8 years have I ever felt unloved by this woman. We’ve never broken up. I can’t even bring myself to think about what life would be like without her. And although I’m sure it’s appealing to think about on a majority of occasions, I hope she feels the same way about me.
For our first anniversary, we celebrated by unpacking boxes in our new house. Our second anniversary was marred by the news that we would be having our first child. The third anniversary was spent at home with said child at 4-months of age. This fourth is being celebrated with a bitchin’ blog post. For the big number five, I may break out the keys and drive the whole family to Bob Evans. Who knows?
My wife just referred to the act of farting/shitting your pants on the couch and getting up to leave your companion to bask in the glory as “rubbing one out.”
I would like to point out that I neither shat myself nor masturbated on the couch. Tonight.
As I relaxed at the end of this Labor Day and played some Xbox, I was disturbed by my wife yelling and knocking for me to come upstairs during my daughter’s bath time. As I round the corner, I see the wife sitting on the tub and the kid sitting on her toilet insert. Nothing like walking upstairs to find a 16 month old dropping a deuce. We all shared a happy clap together, but the real celebration will come when I can start saving hundreds of dollars a year in diaper money. I’m already regretting not taking a picture to share on Facebook.
- Wife: How does she have all those dudes coming after her?
- Me: She's Edie Falco...
- Wife: She's not even hot!
- Me: It's the exciting environment of the hospital. Shit like that happens every time I go to the doctor.
- Wife: I'm sure, like when they tell you to drop your pants...
- Me: And put my balls in the mouth?
- Wife: You put the doctor's balls in your mouth?
- Me: Yes, that's exactly it...
- Wife: And what kind of diagnosis does that get you? That you're gay?
- Me: And that you have poor taste in men.
- Wife: What can I say? I like being a beard.
- Me: Is that why you have one?
How is it possible to sit this close to the hot dog cannon and not get one? I would have taken one to the face if needed. Sluggerrr is a d-baggg.
GPOYW - Two Corndogs, One Mouth edition
Look for me in Ink Magazine online and out on the streets right now.
